Much Ado About Kissing (Howertys #4)

Chapter 19: Seven

Rain paced the length of her bedroom while the cats watched her with yellow eyes, probably annoyed that she was disturbing them. But she could not sleep. And so she was pacing the floor with her nightgown billowing around her. She should be elated. Marcus had agreed to let her leave. To let her live her life as if they were not married. And yet... She was far from happy. Rather, the opposite. Between the hollow feeling that had settled in her abdomen and the general feeling of frustration, it took her a moment to realise what she was feeling.

She was angry. Mostly with herself, but also with Marcus. Yet again, he was ready to let her go without a fight. After some of his confessions lately, she had dared to believe that maybe—just maybe—he cared for her after all. But if he did, why was he so quick to let her leave him? Why would he not try to convince her otherwise?

It was unfair of her. She knew that. But her temper would not subside. The more she paced, the hotter her anger burned.

The door opened, and Marcus entered. His dark hair was—if possible—even more mussed up than before, and he'd divested himself of his waistcoat already. Before she knew what she was doing, she picked up a cushion from a chair and threw it at him. It hit him squarely in the chest, and he stared at her with eyes wide in shock. She picked up another and lobbed it at him. This time, he was ready and swatted it away before it hit him.

"Rain?" he questioned as he took a step towards her.

She picked up another cushion and threw it. Again, he swatted it away. Like it was no more than a fly. With anger burning hotly inside, she looked around for another projectile but could find nothing suitable. As a child, she had thrown anything she got her hands on, but she knew better now and had enough presence of mind to see through the haze of anger to not start throwing anything that could actually break or hurt someone.

"Why are you angry?" he asked, coming closer still.

Backing away, she glared at him. "You are such a coward!"

His dark brows knotted as he advanced on her. "Pardon?"

"You're a coward," she repeated, backing a few more steps. "You didn't fight for me then and you obviously won't fight for me now."

"You said you didn't want me to fight for you," he reminded her.

She moved past a chair and picked up another cushion, which she threw at him. "Maybe. I don't know!" she snapped. "I don't! I do! I... I..."

Picking up another cushion, her words died in her throat as Marcus dashed forwards and captured her wrists in his hands. Pushing her back, she hit the wall, and he trapped her wrists against it, making her drop the cushion. Maybe she should be scared of him. He was at least a head taller and probably twice her weight. Yet she did not fear him. No matter what, she knew he would never hurt her. At least not physically. And any other way had never been intentional. She did not believe he had ever set out to hurt her when he decided to court her. It wasn't his fault his target had been stupid enough to fall for him.

His eyes burned as he glared down at her. "I did not fight for you," he growled, "because you let me believe you slept with my brother! I thought you loved him. Believed you married me for my title alone."

"You fool!" She raised her chin to glare back. He was so close, his face mere inches from hers, and his body close enough that her palms tingled with the need to touch him. "I never married you for your title."

"I know that now." His fingers around her wrists flexed. The grip was strong, but she suspected he would let her go immediately had she tried to pull free. "You want nothing to do with me. All these plans for your own house... No, I understand you did not marry me for my title. Which begs the question. Why did you marry me at all?"