A Cold Wife, Sweet Husband

She hadn't realized that this was her special room. She already thought of several things she wanted to do to make the place look more appealing to her. It had been a bachelor's room before.

She fancied the image of scenic paintings. She loved the beach, so a couple of paintings of the ocean waves roaring along the sand would go very well with the blue furniture.

A painting or two of mountains covered in snow would go well with the white furniture. She glanced at the crystal vase. It would be nice to start a collection of crystal figurines. She loved crystal. A display case for those figurines would look nice in the corner of the room.

The heavy blue curtains had to go. She wanted white lacy curtains to give the room a more feminine feel and to let the sunlight in. She decided that the room did have many possibilities.

―I hope you find your parlor to your liking. She recognized Leo's voice. She put the vase down on the small oak table in the center of the room and turned her attention to him.

―I will once I get through redecorating it. ―It's all yours. He walked over to her and lightly kissed her. ―Aren't you going to welcome me home after a hard day at work? She sighed.

―Must you persist in keeping this marriage going? His eyes widened. ―You're the one who's going to change this room. I took that as an indicator that you planned to stay. ―Only for the month, I'm required to be here.

―You'll spend the rest of your life here. The fact that he seemed so sure of himself made her that much more determined to prove him wrong. She crossed her arms and glared at him. He ignored her open rebellion. He gently took her by the elbow to lead her to the couch.

―Will you have a seat? ―No. She didn't budge. To her surprise, he picked her up in his arms and sat down. He held her close to him and sat her on his l.a.p. She was too shocked to react in time to stop him from kissing her neck. She pushed aside the delightful sensations his kissing produced and quickly stood back up.

He had amazing reflexes for he grabbed her hand and said, ―If you don't sit by me, I'll pull you back onto my l.a.p. Or we could go upstairs and make sure you don't leave at the end of the month. She loudly sighed so he would understand how much this pained her and plopped next to him on the couch.

He chuckled. ―Now that wasn't so hard, was it? She refused to look at him. She wouldn't let him get to her. She wouldn't fall in love with someone she was forced into marrying. ―I see you got my flowers. She kept quiet. ―I meant what I wrote. I fully intend to find out all there is to know about you and you can find out all there is to know about me.

Since you don't want to talk, I'll begin. I was born on November 17, 1870, to Jeremiah and Catherine Monroe. When I was two, they died in a buggy accident and Uncle Jonathan adopted me and raised me as his own. ―You were an orphan? she interrupted.

―Yes. Didn't you know that? She shook her head. Somehow finding out about that after holding Ryan earlier that day made her feel sympathy for him. She was grateful that her parents had lived to see her become an a.d.u.l.t. She couldn't imagine anyone but them raising her. ―I don't remember my parents. I have pictures.