Living Room

Anthony entered the lounge, glad to see the fire had already been lit and the room prepared for him. He hunched by the fire dejectedly, frowning like a spoilt school boy, and stared into the burning flames. This, he thought to himself, this was was why he never committed to a woman. Anthony was fickle but he had never had someone be fickle with him.

As he scratched his stubbled chin he came to the realisation and admitted to himself that beyond lust and playful courtship - he had developed a deep attachment to Joan. The idea of continuing without her gentle companionship was a hideous thought to bear.

Anthony had moved himself to the chaise by the fire, attempting to distract himself with a book but had eventually succumbed to sleep. The hours must have flew past him as he awoke to the room filled with light and Joan at the door. As he sat up he noticed a plate of food left for him on the table, no doubt left by the kitchen maid.

He didn't let himself smile when he saw her although it was an instinctive reaction now, "It's your house too,"he replied simply and shifted in his seat. He held his head in his hands, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

He shrugged, "Yes well I've decided upon you now," he acted aloof as he collected a crust of bread from the table. How could he discard her so easily? He quite simply couldn't. He had never imagined having a woman in this room with him. Walking with his wife along the cliffs at sunset and eventually having children at their feet had all featured in his fantasies of their life together - now she so simply said that he could choose another.

"But speak as you wish, I will not silence you."

He sighed and looked up,"The trouble is...that...that I love you,"he muttered, hardly believing he admitted to it. There was a long silence after he spoke - he meant it but saying it out loud for Anthony was making himself vulnerable, so he covered the silence before she could speak.

"I don't want to quarrel with you, or have this situation. We aren't even married yet and already this bone of contention lies between us."

He chewed on his bread and glanced behind him to gage her reaction - his bright eyes nervously waiting to see her face. He sighed and turned around again, "Bloody hell, Joan," he began exasperated,"I love you and I'll be plain - I don't want you to go to this Catherine Parr. I want you to stay with me."

He stood up, initially vexed when she grabbed his shirt. So he took the few paces over to her and clutched onto her waist and pressed his lips passionately against hers. He moved her back so she was held against the wall and him as he slipped his tongue in her mouth.

He released his lips from hers but still held onto her, "It's more than that with you, Joan - I don't know why but beyond just taking you to bed," he breathed and tipped his forehead against hers.

"You have bewitched me, Joan."

He nodded, "Yes...yes I promise," he breathed and pressed his lips to hers' again, bringing her body closer to his - sighing as he felt her curves against him.

She did't resist but she didn't exactly consent either. He left her and stood, breathing heavily at her side - his back against the wall.

He ran frustrated hands through his hair and looked to her, "If you want out, Joan. If you don't want this marriage. I'll say nothing happened - you'll not loose your reputation."

He scoffed with incredulous shock as she put down the ring. He felt the burning itch in his eyes but would not give in, "So that's it?" he said and shrugged frustratedly.

"You are just going to leave? Tell me what I've meant to have done."

He was angry now. He had brought her to his home, shown her affection and spent money he did not have on her ring - now she would leave? His anger was directed at himself. How could he become ensnared so easily.

He scoffed and slid down the wall, squatting on the floor, "So...you decide - after you claim you are falling in love with me, after accepting that ring," he began and pointed to the ring on the side board, "After coming to my home and after I confess my feelings - you decide you don't want this."

He glared at her from the floor, his arms resting on his bent knees, "What fantasy are you residing in, Joan? Are you seeing armies from the window, set to march upon my home, tear down the door and harm us?"

He laughed bitterly, "What hurt? What protection do we need? I fell asleep with Joan and I have awoken to this! Did I fall asleep for ten years and wake up to an old and stale marriage?"

"I mock you?" he replied incredulously, "You mock me. Your heart is fickle and I will not beg for you, Joan. I have done you no wrong and not treated you badly. How you can leave - so coldly - is beyond my comprehension."

He stood up, passing a mournful glance to the ring and to her. He hated himself for still instinctively smiling when he saw her, feeling a flutter in his chest and a hot rush of lust. He walked, heavy footed to the couch and slumped down - moving to lie along the length of it.