"HE BROUGHT YOU to a spa? Even after all the horrible things he said?" Leticia asked. I nodded. The night before, we'd spent hours talking and laughing in her rooms after finishing two bottles of sweet wine. We'd woken up with the grueling sickness one recieves after too much drink, which had only dissipated after a stomach-turning concoction. Now we were savusauna, exchanging stories about our respective husbands. I told her about my marriage to Matthew in it's entirety, include the most recent events that led up to yesterday. "That's interesting."

"I want to be done with this, Leticia. He should just divorce me and be done with it."

"Mmm," Leticia murmured.

"What?" I asked.

"It's nothing."

"Tell me," I demanded.

"You're not going to like what I have to say," Leticia warned.

"All the more reason you should say it."

My new friend paused a few moments before responding. "He cares about you, Rose."

I let out an ugly laugh. "He does not."

"He does," Leticia insisted. "His actions speak to it."

My eyes widened in shock. "His actions? Have you been listening to word I've said?"

"I told you wouldn't want to hear it."

"No tell me. Tell me how any of his actions remotely speak of affection towards me."

"He could've taken you to an asylum and been rid of you, and he did not. Matthew could've tossed you on the side of road, as you colorfully insisted upon, but he did not. He could've divorced you and left you at the mercy of your family, he refused to do that too."

"That's not because he cares! It's because he feels guilty. He knows that if he does any of those things to me, it'll weigh on him."

"He also could've bought a small cottage in the countryside and supplied you with a meager annual allowance," Leticia said sagely. "A cottage on the outskirts of the kingdom where your family wouldn't think to look. That would be guilt. That would be an easy way to alleviate one's conscience."

"That proves nothing," I rebutted. "The idea probably hasn't even occurred to him yet."

"And he leave you at The Georgia," Leticia continued, as if I had not spoke. "He could've left you at any inn of moderate or even ill repute. But, instead, your husband selects the most luxurious spa in country." She shook her head at me. "Do you have any idea how surprised I was when you told me your husband dumped you off here out of anger? Trust me, you're the only woman here who is not on holiday."

"You must have no idea what lengths some men go to to appease their guilt," I muttered. I remember my father taking me to the most expensive dressmaker after he burned me like it was yesterday.

"Look, I'm not saying that Matthew is a good man—he's not. I'm not saying everything he's done to you isn't exceptionally cruel—it is. I don't even think your husband himself knows the motive behind his actions or the regard he has for you. But I do believe he cares."

"Matthew is vindictive, cruel, and cold. He feels nothing for me," I said stonily. His words from that wretched day kept reverberating in my head. I wager you're almost as ugly on the inside as you are on the outside. "There is absolutely nothing there."

"Fine," Leticia shrugged. "Maybe I'm wrong."

"You're wrong," I asserted. An awkward silence followed. "How long is your holiday here?" I asked amicably, in an attempt to dissipate the tension.

"I think in a fortnight. Most people only stay here a week on account of the price but..." Leticia winked at me. "I'm feeling naughty."

I laughed at the manner of her reply. I inhaled the sweet smoky air of the room and blew it noisily out my mouth. I rather liked the sauvusauna. "I think I should I like to stay here forever."

"I second that."

Suddenly, someone burst into the room. It was a servant who looked out of breath and slightly panicked. "Mrs. Whitfield? Is there a Mrs. Whitfield in here?"

"That's me. Is something wrong?" I asked.

The servant boy looked positively relieved when I answered in the affirmative. "Your husband wants to see you immediately."

I grimaced in irritation. "He shall see me when I'm done here."

"Mrs. Whitfield, the anxiety was plain in that poor servant's voice, he insisted to see you now. He's very agitated."

"Tell him that I won't be coming out until I'm done."

"Mrs. Whitfield—"

"—I'm not leaving," I declared. "Tell him to wait."

The servant stood there for several seconds before leaving. "Rose, you could've been nicer," Leticia scolded. "He's only delivering a message." I knew what she said was true. I hated when people were rude to staff. But I refused to admit my folly, out loud.

"He should leave me alone," I replied sourly. By he, I meant Matthew, of course. To my massive annoyance, they very same servant returned only a couple moments later.

"Mrs. Whitfield..." he began pleadingly. "Your husband begs for your presence.

"No," I said obstinately. "I won't leave. You cannot make me." The servant's eyes rested briefly on Leticia. It was an earnest cry for help. Leticia gave him a pitying glance. After a pained sigh, the servant left once again. "What's the rush anyway? He can't wait another half hour?"

"Men are very impatient," Leticia said.

I crossed my arms like a stubborn child and closed my eyes. I didn't care how many times a messenger came in here, I wasn't leaving. I could spend the whole day in this sauvusauna. Several minutes passed by before I heard the door open again. "I'm not leaving," I snapped preemptively.

"I can see that," a male voice said coldly. I opened my eyes to find Matthew standing in the middle of the tiny room. He was dressed in nothing like a small towel, like me and Leticia. I tried my very to keep gaze fixed on his face. I'd never seen him without a shirt before. Matthew actually had the gall to sit right next to me.

"You can't be in here," I sputtered. "This is the women's sauvusauna. Men aren't allowed in."

"No one protested my coming in. And anyway, you have no one to blame but yourself. You refused to come to me when I asked you to."

"Mr. Whitfield," Leticia said suddenly. Matthew directed his gaze to her and manage a small smile.

"Pleasure to meet you, though I do apologize for the circumstances. Who might you be?"

"Leaving," Leticia replied as she rose up.

"Leticia, don't!" I exclaimed. "He has no right to be here and you run out." I turned back to Matthew. "Leave!"

"No one's running anyone out, Rose. I want to give you two privacy, really." There was a gleam in Leticia's eyes that I didn't like. "You need it." Leticia's walked decidedly toward the exit.

"If you're leaving I am too," I replied. No sooner did I try to rise did Matthew snake an arm around my waist to stop me.

"You're not going anywhere," Matthew said firmly. I watched with desperation and frustration as Leticia closed the door behind her.

"Let go of me!"

"As soon as you give me your word that you won't storm out of here like a child, I'll let you go."

I glared at him. "You cannot keep me hostage in here."

"I'm serious." We stared at each other, both of us unyielding.

I grit my teeth. "You have five minutes."

"Ten minutes," Matthew corrected. "I have ten."

"What do you want?" I asked briskly. "Are the divorce papers here? Is that why you wanted to see me so badly?"

"There are no divorce papers. Not yet. I've been conferring with my lawyer to organize a contract that will free you from this marriage with money independent of your family."

I blinked at him. "Is that all?"

Matthew peered at me as if he too was surprised that was all he had to say. "Do you see how painless that was?"

"Painless and completely unimportant. Mr. Whitfield, you could've sent a letter. Why on earth did you insist on coming in person?"

"I had to make sure you were actually here," Matthew shot back. "You could've run off with a servant for all I know."

"You're too funny," I replied sardonically.

"It would be just like you to run away," Matthew asserted, shaking his head "That's why I couldn't take some servant's word for it, I had to see you in the flesh."

"Well here I am, imprisoned on this lovely gilded cage until you decide what my fate is. Do you have any idea when that will be?"

"Damn you," he hissed through his clenched teeth. "Can you not be grateful? Can't you appreciate that I'm doing whatever I can to make sure you come out of this unscathed?"

In an uncharacteristic show of mockery I took his hand—the one that wasn't still draped around my waist—took it in both of my own, and kissed his knuckles with exaggerated passion. With his hand still in mine, I looked into his darkening blue eyes. "Thank you, dear husband. Thank you for doing whatever it takes to protect me. I couldn't ask for a better partner."

Matthew's cheeks flamed red. He squeezed one of my hands that held his own and leaned in so close our noses nearly touched. "Apologize," he growled.

"I shall not," I whispered. My voice was breathier and weaker than I wanted it to be, but I couldn't help it. I was suddenly hyper aware of his arm around my waist and his fingers against my own. And his eyes...they'd never looked so entrancing. The air between us suddenly held more then anger and frustration. It was pulsating with electricity.

"Apologize," Matthew repeated. His voice was still authoritative, but softer. His eyes searchingly gazed into my own. He was close enough to see them through my veil.

"No."

Then Matthew enveloped both of his arms around me and pulled me against him. I released a quiet gasp of shock. There was nothing separating us except for our cotton towels. I looked up at him, too shocked to breath—to move. He drew his face closer to mine still until our lips practically touched through the cloth. "Rose," he whispered raggedly.

"Matthew," I breathed. My skin was on fire. I was dizzy with an unexplainable feeling. "Kiss me."

Matthew slowly drew back my veil with a painstaking care that made my heart swell. Then he planted his lips on my own. It was a hungry, demanding kiss. I met his craving lips with an eagerness of my own. My body was bursting with molten heat. I was so hot. Hot. An image of Eric's cabin exploding into flames suddenly came to mind. I pushed Matthew away with such might I fell to the floor. "Rose," Matthew murmured. He reached out his hand to help me. I slapped it away and stood to my feet.

"You burned down his house!" I exclaimed.

Matthew rose and inched toward me. "Rose."

"Don't call me that!" I buried my face in my hands. What was wrong with me? This man had left me alone for years. He'd thrown me out to accommodate his pregnant mistress. He'd made a father and son homeless and called me a grotesque creature. And there I sat, kissing him with wanton abandon. What the hell was wrong with me? "That was a mistake. I never should've let you kiss me." The air was suddenly suffocating. "I need to get out of here," I murmured.

"Rose, wait!" Matthew yelled. I didn't want to hear anything he had to say. I ran away from the sauvusauna on the cobblestone path to my residence until I finally reached my rooms. I was wet and breathless. I fell onto my bed in a dramatic flourish and stared up at the ceiling. Slowly, my fingers inadvertently found themselves tracing my lips. I couldn't believe it. Matthew had kissed me. And I had let him.

🥀

Matthew still sat in that terrible savusauna, unable to move. He hated the thick steamy airlessness in the room and the sticky sweat it produced. It felt like the antechamber of hell. But he couldn't make himself move. He was still trying to process what had just happened. He'd actually kissed his wife. And it hadn't been repulsive, chaste, or regrettable. Matthew had loved every single second of it. He hadn't wanted to stop, she was the one that had stopped. "Christ," Matthew muttered to himself. When had any such feelings developed? She was his cold, unfeeling wife. Cold, stubborn, unfeeling wife. And yet...

Matthew

The memory of his name on her mouth sent a warm current through his body. Her obstinacy, sarcasm, and dry wit had always frustrated him. But now he knew it excited him. Only now it was too late. He had a child on the way, a child he knew he must do right by. He couldn't subject his blood to a life of illegitimacy. Matthew had to marry Victoria, he owed mother and child that decency. He drummed his fingers against the bench. What could he do about his burgeoning attraction to his wife? What should he do?

Oh my god, Matthew and Rose just had their first kiss. Has this been a long time coming or what?