Much Ado About Kissing (Howertys #4)

Chapter 8: Little Talks

Rain stroked the soft fur of Sir Claws with one hand as she flipped the pages of her book with the other. After the run-in with Marcus the previous evening, she had avoided him all day. It was cowardly, but she couldn't face him. Not yet. The way his kiss had affected her had been too mortifying. Even more so having to admit it and ask him to ensure they would not consummate their marriage.

In her efforts to avoid her husband, she had even foregone going to Lady Yates's musical evening; a popular event for which everyone coveted an invitation. She had worried Marcus would join her after she had told him he needed to for their deal, and the idea of sitting next to him for an entire evening made her insides flutter. So she had made sure she didn't see him. It wasn't too difficult, as he spent most of his time in his study. But to be safe, she'd even taken her supper in her room.

With a frustrated huff, she closed the book. She couldn't focus, anyway. All she could think about was the way Marcus's lips had felt against her own. His hand in her hair. And how he had remained calm enough to hold on to his bloody drink. It was so unfair! Anger burned through her at the unfairness of it all, and she picked the book up and hurled it across the room, watching as it hit the wall on the other side with a satisfying thud before falling to the floor.

Lady Whiskers jumped up from where she'd been sleeping on a cushion and gave her a disapproving glare. The calico cat was another of her many strays that she kept collecting. This particular one had bonded so well with Sir Claws that they were happiest when in the same room, and Rain didn't have the heart to separate them. Which was why her room was now overrun with a litter of kittens.

A knock on the door made Lady Whiskers slink underneath a chair. She was still shy to any human other than her, especially men. Their butler couldn't go anywhere near her without her escaping the room and disappearing for hours.

"Yes?" she called out as she made sure her dressing gown covered her properly.

The door opened and Marcus came inside. Unlike the previous night, he was still properly dressed, cravat neatly in place. And no glass of brandy in his hands. His gaze swept over her where she sat in bed with the cat in her lap. It was strangely reminiscent of their wedding night when he had found her in a similar position with the same cat. He must have realised the same as his brows knotted.

"Is everything all right?" he asked. "I heard a bang."

Her cheeks warmed. "Yes. I just had a disagreement with a book."

"Oh?" He quirked a dark eyebrow. "Was the ending not to your liking?"

"I knew the ending before I began reading," she said. "So no, that was not the issue."

"I'm sure we can find you a more agreeable book, the—" His words halted as he realised what she'd said. "Wait. You know the ending?"

She nodded, stroking Sir Claws gently to occupy her hands. "Yes. I always read the last page before I start a book. So I know if I will enjoy it."

"Why would anyone do that? That takes away all the surprise. The anticipation." He shook his head, obviously unable to fathom why anyone would choose to do such a thing.

"There are a lot of books in this world. I do not wish to waste my time reading one if the ending will be disappointing."

"I suppose I cannot argue with that." He hesitated, his eyes flickering between her and the bed. It wasn't the large four-poster one in his room, but it was very similar. He cleared his throat. "Have you been avoiding me?"

The direct question surprised her. She shook her head. Then she nodded. "Yes."

He seemed to consider her answer, before asking, "Why?"