#An Inconvenient Attachment | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

alicedopey · 26 days ago

Text

Found you ! (I'm fairgirl on A03) Really loved this story and I forgot to tell you how delicious it was because I adore the marriage trope.

You were right, Ransom does look pompous in your edit lol. The perfect wealthy man.

Read this story , people ! It's truly good.

An Inconvenient Attachment

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x reader, Charles blackwood x reader (swiftly)

Summary: Being married to a Lord, you didn't expect much, but you feel yourself slipping deeper into despair as the months go by. There are expectations for both of you, but you can't fulfill them when your husband barely looks at you.

Word count: 5883

Warnings: women having to do their wifey duties. Loveless marriage. Cheating (a kiss)

Notes: I just had this idea, Jane Austen-esque Lord Ransom. Do with it what you will🤷🏻‍♀️ let me know if you liked it, it will be appreciated.

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

Masterlist

There was no love in this cold dark house.

As you wandered through long halls filled with old portraits of sour looking people, with dark mahogany dressoirs and closets, poorly lit by flame, you wondered how there was ever a time you felt happy.

There had been laughter in your life. Light and warmth. A family.

Why Lord Drysdale ever set eyes upon you, you do not know.

It was at a ball. You remember the night and all the colors around you, from the dresses to the accessories, to the flowers and the food. You had gotten a new dress yourself, your father and mother had saved for it. You weren't poor, but your family's wealth had depleted and your parents tried to hide it desperately for the rest of society.

You were to marry up, as well as your sisters, but you were older than them, and only had an older brother who had already settled two years prior. A happy match. Not rich, but comfortable.

And while you laughed and drank, his cold eyes had watched you. He stood in a corner most of the night, a glass in hand and did not dance once. Not many ladies dared to pry an invitation from him. He was known as a reclusive man. Rich beyond understanding, with a large estate and many servants.

He was handsome, tall and broad around the shoulders. He dressed well. He was known to be intelligent. His manners were lacking however, and he could be unkind. All in all an unpleasant man, wrapped in pleasant luxuries.

Your parents had set eyes on him, while you were unaware.

It all happened quickly. You were asked to dance, you accepted. Internally surprised by the offer, but you did not show. You took his hands and he led you to the dance floor. He could dance, very well even. So it was a choice not to do so before.

He asked to call upon you the next day. Again, you accepted. It wasn't that you were fond of him, but you knew your manners, and it was quite flattering that a man like himself showed interest in you. It would expand your expectations with any future suitors.

However, there were no other suitors. Lord Drysdale was courting you, and everyone soon heard about it, and there weren't many men who wished to make him an enemy.

Your parents were thrilled. Before you even knew what to think, you were engaged to be wed, and even that happened swiftly. Whispers of love having thawed the man's cold heart sounded through society, but you didn't believe it. You barely knew the man.

Ransom, is what he told you to call him in private. And you knew he liked horseback riding. He had a liking for sweets, and he did not like his family very much.

His grandfather had favored him and willed his whole fortune and estate to him when he had passed, leaving him completely alone in that big house, since the rest of his family bickered with him over scraps constantly. He was still paying for his parents residence in a different town, but the rest of them had been cut off and had to accept the state of living as they could make it.

It had been time for him to find a wife and start a family, and it had been so for several years. Yet none of the lovely faces around him had suited him, and he spent most days a wanted bachelor. But mostly for his money.

His face stirred some feelings in several ladies, of course, but they found out soon his personality did not.

He had a tendency to insult them quickly if he found them vain, or shallow.

Polite conversation bored him, and he had no patience for dishonest compliments.

All in all, a difficult man to deal with.

Why you were wed so quickly to him, you often wondered about in the following months after your wedding. You came to the conclusion that he had decided to marry finally, and thought you were agreeable, and your parents worked hard to make you think this would be a splendid idea.

The money would make you more than comfortable and it was decided he would help your parents out of the financial disaster they so desperately wanted to escape. Besides, your sisters’s prospects for a good match went up significantly.

Lord Drysdale had been somewhat pleasant to converse with in public and under the watchful eyes of your parents, who were making sure nothing indecent until the wedding happened and there would be no return, but as soon as you were allowed to call each other husband and wife, things took a weird turn.

Ransom spent most of his time in the library or his study, working. And you were left alone for most of the day. You couldn't call ordering the servants around as conversation, and it wasn't like they were allowed to talk back anyway.

Things were feeling quite poorly. You were lonely. You missed your friends, and it wasn't easy to see them, since Lord Drysdale didn't like them much, nor did he like visitations. He also didn't like you away from the estate either, though why that was, you did not know.

It was feeling like a prison with all the rules you had to accommodate.

You were not to drink too much, you were to sleep on time, you were not to disturb him if he was in his studies. You were to take walks in the garden to keep your healthy figure. You had to ask for permission to invite someone, and it was always declined. He wanted you to put your hair up in public and any loose strands or curls were only accepted inside the house, he did not like you pretending you smiled or laughed, he preferred your reactions to be honest. You were to listen and to obey him.

There were visits to yours and his parents, but it was obvious he did not enjoy doing so. He was polite, but withdrawn. His body tense and his eyes alert.

He did not like his parents, and truthfully, neither did you. But your parents tried their best to include him, and be familiar with him, and he had no intention to.

It was why you wondered why he had wanted you as his wife. There was a moment, when you were courting, you thought he had some interest in you, but that completely disappeared after the wedding.

You felt shame thinking of the night following it.

He had come to your room, and you, anxiously squeezing your hands, had to bare yourself for him. Your virginal white sleeping gown covering your modesty, your hair loose from its pins.

He stood in the doorway, still, watching. It took a long time for him to do anything else.

You were nervous, maybe you did not please him. Your mother had told you, you just had to do what you were told and it would be over soon. Think of happy things.

When he finally neared you, you were so terrified you felt like crying, but his hands grabbed your chin and studied you. Then he lifted the gown and took it from you.

You stood naked, knowing you shouldn't have to cover yourself for your husband, but wanting nothing more than that.

He took your hands and guided you to sit on the bed, then he undressed himself.

It was with a certain amount of interest as you watched him, never having seen a naked man before, but it looked so intimidating that you lowered your eyes to your lap.

He looked strong, and at the moment that seemed threatening to you.

He had lowered you to lie down, and had climbed on top of you. It had hurt and you still remember the rocking motions your body went through and his face as he completed.

His jaw hadn't been unclenched once.

When he was done he removed himself from you and dressed again. He gave you a little nod and left.

The servants cleaned you up the next day and changed the bedsheets, and you spent an uncomfortable week sitting on a soft pillow.

It hadn't happened again. And you were grateful. You understood why he hadn't wanted it either, if it was so unpleasant to do. Mother's words on it being necessary to have children proved right. What a despair a married couple had to go through just to have a family! You had to do what was needed, but you hoped once was enough.

Yet, no children came. You didn't grow around the waist, and you worried if something went wrong that time. Since you knew nothing about bedding someone, and you were sure not to ask since it was very improper, you were left with questions and worry, but no solution.

Your mother asked you at every dinner you were able to go to, if you had been with child already. And you could only tell her you were not. To great disappointment. She spoke as if it was your fault. You had to please your husband.

It was hard to please a man who did not wish to be seen.

You stared out the window. Your favorite pastime nowadays. You were allowed to read, but only if your husband wasn’t in the library and the unpredictability if he was or wasn't was so nerve-wracking you avoided the room a lot.

Only when he was gone did you feel at ease. This house did not feel like a home.

There was no warmth and there was no unity to make it so.

Your husband did not seem to have any interest in you, and you had learned to accept it.

Maybe one day he would enter your room again, and you would endure it and maybe a child would be born to take your mind off of things. You would be content.

His parents sometimes brought the subject up during the third course of dinner, and your husband would look agitated. They were in a higher position than your family, yet you found they were much easier with showing their inner thoughts. It was a little vulgar in your opinion. They did not know you well, and this was a difficult subject. Something not to be raised during dinner. Yet they did not care.

His mother wanted grandchildren, and she said so if she wanted anything.

Ransom would throw the doors closed as soon as you came home, the sound echoing in the empty halls, and you were left alone again.

However, things seemed to go better for you with the arrival of a man named Charles Blackwood. He said to be a cousin of the family, but had traveled in the last few years and had only come back upon receiving a letter from his attorney. In it, it said he was the potential heir of this very property. His father and Ransom's grandfather had invested in it and though Charles' father passed too early, it now meant he might have been the legitimate heir all along.

Ransom was furious, he denied any claim and rushed off to see his own attorney to settle this quickly. He had thrown Mister Blackwood out unceremoniously. You worried by yourself, you had no idea if Ransom's money was mostly the land and it's yearly income or if he had separate money, and if you'd even have a house to live in soon.

You wanted to refuse to talk to mister Blackwood when he showed up the next day to have a civilized conversation. Your husband was not home, you informed him, but he smiled kindly and told you, you were. You were the mistress of the house - so far - couldn't you speak to him? He did not wish to stir trouble. He understood it was a difficult situation.

You hesitated, but what else had you to do today? And perhaps you could find out more from where he came from, and what kind of man he was.

Charles Blackwood, as it turned out, was a gentle and warm man. He made you feel at ease instantly, and seemed very interested in you and any of your interests. You found yourself laughing sometimes, and listening to his reviving stories about his travels. You had never even left the county, other than one holiday at ten years old when your mother had fallen ill, and the doctor advised some fresh air of the seaside.

He was a great storyteller, animated, with big gestures, and a way to make it appear to come alive in your mind. You enjoyed the afternoon thoroughly, and when he made his way to leave, he asked if he could come by to visit again.

He told you, whispering like it was a secret between you two, that he had enjoyed your company, and he had felt a bit lonely before, being in a place he hadn't been familiar with.

You agreed without thinking, knowing your husband didn't come back until the next day. And what would it matter? There was no harm in talking. Perhaps you could persuade him to leave the house to ransom if he was the heir. Perhaps he would sell it to you for a decent price.

He did not seem to be an unkind man, you hoped to find a way out of this predicament.

The next day the two of you took a walk in the admittedly beautiful garden. The sun was pleasant enough to not need a coat, and not so hot you would be uncomfortable. He offered his arm and you took it. The warmth of his hands captured yours and you were a little startled at the reaction your body gave.

He was handsome, as much as Ransom was, but he was gentler and quick to laugh. His blue eyes were so bright you wished you could paint to capture them. You felt flustered with the thought, it wasn't proper.

Yet, you continued holding him while you took steps through the scenery and describing the plants to him. He listened avidly. Nothing you said seemed to annoy him.

After such a long time of feeling invisible, you suddenly felt lively again and you brightened considerably with every affection he seemed to give you.

A finger stroking your wrist, a look given before the turning of one's face. His soft sweet words, as he complimented your knowledge.

Your heart was racing when he looked at you with admiration, and you kept repeating you were a married woman to yourself. It did not matter. You found yourself taken with him unlike any other.

When he had departed again, you had been sad, more than you should have been, knowing you most likely couldn't see him again since your husband's return in the morning. You went to bed with a head full of thoughts of pretty smiles, and his words tumbling through your mind.

Seeing Ransom again was awkward as usual. You tried greeting him, but he marched past you, grumbling entirely that it would take a while to expose the lies of ‘that man’.

He seemed to want to inform you however, even if it was with an outburst and raising his voice so you sat trembling on the sofa, listening to him and trying to figure out what had happened.

It turned out Charles - mister Blackwood wasn't immediately exposed as a fraude, so Ransom wasn't happy. More information had to be sought and he had to wait.

You hesitated to tell him he had visited, knowing he wouldn't be happy, but the servants would most likely inform him themselves, and if he heard it from anyone else he would never forgive you. That, you were certain of.

“He has come by, Mister Blackwood, I mean,” you told him, avoiding eye contact. “He wished to speak about the subject, you weren't home but I could not just send him away, he's family. I hoped to find more about him.”

The silence was stiffling but he broke it. “And did you? Find out?”

He seemed suddenly so calm, it eered you. “Some of it. He is well traveled. He is polite and seemed very dismayed by the trouble this causes. He wishes to come to a solution.”

“I will have a solution if he looks into my pistol.”

You blanched. Ransom never seemed violent, but he wasn't a jester. The possibility of him bringing this to such an end might not be impossible.

“Ran- my Lord, please,” you corrected yourself, too uncomfortable to call him by his first name ever since it was clear you weren't to be his equal. “He is kind, surely there's another way?”

“He is kind?” He mumbled incredulously.”Is he, now? You pretend to know him with one visit?”

“Two,” you admitted. “It seems he's quite lonely in a country he hasn't visited in years, I -” you cut yourself off, unable to admit you were lonely. “It seemed decent to show him around and lift his spirits. He might be willing to sell if he is the legal heir.”

At this Ransom bristled, anger creeping in again. “What he is like, or what he wants does not matter. This house belongs to me, these lands belong to me. These servants, my wife, the dogs, are all belonging to me. And you think me a fool to give any of it up? To pay for what is rightfully mine? Do not speak to me like this again!”

You shivered and looked at your clenched hands. It was no coincidence you were mentioned amongst the servants and the dogs. Deliberate or not, this was how he thought of you.

Things turned even icier between you two after that. Ransom stomped through the house, finding every bit of document or diary to prove his case and you stayed as far away from him as you could. The tension feeling suffocating and threatening.

It was unfortunate that you received an invite to a dinner party that neither of you could refuse. You went without barely a word being spoken between the two of you, knowing you had to keep up pretenses for the whole evening. You were not looking forward to it.

Your spirits lifted tremendously, once you set eyes upon a familiar set of blue eyes. And the bright smile sent your way when he greeted you animatedly. Ransom was furious, but could not act upon it in public, but he took your arm so tersely you yelped in pain.

He looked at you confused, until he realized and lessened his grip. He seemed almost apologetic, but said nothing.

What joy you felt when you were seated next to Charles. Another gentleman you barely knew was seated on the other side of you, and you made sure to give him enough attention to not be accused of favoritism. Lord Grant was a viscount and only lower in rank after you married Ransom, he deserved to be treated with respect. He had been sickly as a boy and never completely recovered, but he was a pleasant table partner and loved discussing art with you. Dividing your attentions between everyone around you, you couldn't help but notice Charles was watching you. He was trying to be subtle, but you felt his eyes upon you whenever you looked away and the attention made your body heat up.

You weren't used to being of much interest for anyone, and the months with your husband made you feel like you were even less so. So it was with excitement you continued talking to the dashing looking man.

He complimented your dress, lowering his voice and leaning into you, so you wouldn't be overheard. He told you you looked particularly well today and he hoped your health was well. You agreed and stumbled a bit over your words, you told him he looked quite well this evening.

“Well? Is that all?” He joked. “I was hoping you would complement my nice complexion. Or perhaps how the color of my jacket brings out the light in my eyes.”

You lowered your eyes. “Why yes. Of course. It is a nice jacket.”

He laughed softly. Picking up his soup spoon, coincidentally brushing the side of your hands with his pinky, he scooped up some bouillon and tasted it. “I wish to tell you more of how I feel, but I'm afraid eager ears will pick up on it.”

Your own cutlery nearly fell out of your hands. It seemed sir Blackwood was being forward with his little compliments this evening. Was he really interested in you? You knew it wasn't right, but a part of you couldn't help bask in the warm glow it send through your body.

“Sir, we are in public, and you have already admired my dress. Perhaps that is enough for now?” You mumbled, feeling your chest tighten with excitement. “I wish to ask you how you find the soup.”

“Aahh yes, the soup. It is nicely seasoned. Not too warm and not too cold. It's a beauty to behold, the color just to my liking and not too heavy to the stomach. I wish to eat soup like this every day in my future.”

You couldn't resist a small laugh, and tried to dab your mouth to hide it.

“Do not jest like this, sir, I would not like to spoil any of the broth,” you told him amusedly.

“It would surely cause a scandal, but please, call me Charles.”

You could not do that. Calling him by his first name would imply a more familiar acquaintance, one that would be indecent as a married woman. Even if you wished to form his name on your lips and hold it there.

If only he had appeared before Ransom, would things perhaps be different? Perhaps you would be happy.

Throughout the evening, Charles continued taking liberties and you could not help pretending like you didn't notice so he would continue. You presented yourself as a perfect picture. Happy with your husband, enjoying your married life, eager to do your duties as a wife.

Meanwhile Charles' words and looks made you feel like a heroine in a romance novel, being wooed and chased. It was exciting, as well as scary.

Your husband was occupied, seated in front of you, talking to his own table companions, unaware of these events. You were certain he didn't notice anything going on. That you were hiding well.

You excused yourself at some point to withdraw yourself to the water closet and relieved yourself, but as you walked back to the party, you were interrupted by Charles, who had seemed to wait for you.

“My lady, could I speak with you, in private?” he begged you, looking terribly urgent.

You hesitated, but nodded and he took your hand and led you outside, sheltered from prying eyes, before he spoke to you, still holding onto you, staring into your eyes.

“I have to apologize, for I know this is improper, but I can not be silent any longer. Ever since I set eyes on you I have been tormented with these feelings.”

You swallowed. “Feelings?” You whispered, not daring to hope.

“You're in my every thought. The wish to touch your hands, like this,” he held up your entwined hands. “It feels like my heart will beat out of my chest. I want to see you every day, even if I know I can't. Tell me if you feel the same!”

“Sir, Charles, I can't!” You pressed your eyes shut, willing the tears that nearly came out to disappear. “I am married, this is improper.”

“Damn improper!” He shouted, startling you with his vulgar language. “I can not be silent any longer. Anyone can see how unhappy you are. How little your husband pays you attention. If you were my wife I would never make you feel unwanted. I would worship you. Because I do, I adore you. Please relieve me out of this misery and say you feel like I do. That one look leaves you trembling. That you desire me as much as I do you.”

“Charles…” you whispered. “It isn't right, I shouldn't…”

You could speak no more, because he had pressed his lips upon you. And after that you were not thinking clearly. The smell of him made you dizzy and one of his hands softly touched the gap between your cleavage and you trembled in his arms.

You were going to tell him you did feel the same, confess every one of your sinful thoughts to him as long as he never stopped, when footsteps broke through your euphoria and you scrambled to create space and look decent.

Your husband stepped outside and with one look upon you and the other men his eyes darkened.

“I do not feel well, we are leaving early.” He said, and took your arm in a tight grip to drag you away.

It still took a while before you could step into your carriage, because compliments were to be said to the hosts and invitations to be given back - something you dreaded your husband wouldn't uphold if he could avoid it- but when you finally were on your way, the silence settled.

You opened your mouth to ask if he was very unwell, but as soon as you did, he interrupted before a word was said. “Speak not, I do not want to hear a word from you.”

It was an unpleasant trip back to your house, while your husband looked out of the window and did not once glance at you. Had he seen anything? Or heard? Perhaps it was your absence that raised suspicions.

You had been a fool. Charles’s charms had been too irresistible. His words. They lingered in your thoughts on repeat. He had flattered you, he had said he couldn't stop thinking about you.

Meanwhile, you were happy if your husband didn't forget to bring you to any outings, or spoke to you at all during dinner. Your behavior had been wrong, but were you to live your life like this forever? You hadn't expected love, but at least common respect. Getting to know each other and be comfortable. Some care for each other's well being…

When you arrived he supported you by offering his hands to help you out of the carriage, but he did not release it after you stepped onto ground. He held it as he walked towards the entrance, and he kept it when he guided you upstairs. He dismissed the servants, he led you to your room.

When you were there, he did not leave. He entered as well.

“Undress.”

With big eyes you looked upon him. Surely, he didn't want to lay with you now?

His piercing eyes watched you with a cold glint, daring you to repeat himself.

You didn't hesitate for long. He was your husband, this was his right. You didn't want to anger him any more as you had already done so. With trembling fingers you started undoing the dress for as far as you could, but he stepped in as you couldn't undo all the strings and buttons in the middle of your back.

He wasn't hard with undressing you, but he didn't take his time, deft fingers undoing your clothes expertly.

When you were naked he hummed and circled around you. Staring at your body like a doctor checking for any illnesses. You felt exposed, even more so than on your wedding night.

“I want you to lay down on the bed, in the middle, and not say a word.”

You did as you were told, preparing yourself for the pain that was soon to come.

When he undressed you looked up at the ceiling, when you felt him beside you, you closed your eyes. He spread your legs and you clenched your hands. But he did not thrust forward. Suddenly something warm was pressed against the gap between your legs and you flinched. Firm hands pressed your thighs apart when you tried to close them in shock.

“No.” He simply said, and continued. You opened your eyes to look at what he was doing, but that was your undoing. The sight of his face against that private spot, his hair falling over his forehead in messy strands, it thrilled you somehow. A feeling washed over you, something you had never experienced and you wailed with the intensity.

“See, this is what it is like between a husband and his wife.” He lifted his head, fury still evident in his face, even as he wiped it with his arm, he crawled up towards you, his body pressed against yours. “You vowed yourself to me and I am allowed to take you however I want, and I will! You were so willing to give yourself to another, I did not know I married such a wanton woman.”

You started crying and tried to apologize.

He held your hands above your head and his fingers crawled down your body and found your womanhood once more and started moving. It was already uncomfortable, not exactly painful, but he held you too tight to get loose when you tried to struggle, and he didn't let you go. Then you felt that familiar feeling creep up again and somehow opened your legs wider for him once more.

“Tell me, was this what you did when I left home? When he visited? Did he put his hands on you and make you feel this?!”

You shook your head from left to right, delirious. “No, no!”

“Am I supposed to believe that, when I saw you in his arms?”

“This was the first time, I've never -”

“Are you telling the truth?!” His fingers moved faster and you sobbed again, it was too good.

“Yes. Yes! He hasn't touched me, only tonight, I know it was wrong, but I..”

“But you..?”

“I was lonely!” you shouted. “I wanted to be wanted, to be liked.” You trembled as you broke again, sniffling pathetically underneath him, surely he was going to want to discard of you now.

He was silent as he watched you. Then, he released your hands and placed his own on each side of your, he moved forward, and slowly entered you. Much gentler than the first time he did it. And this time it didn't hurt so much. It was still a weird feeling, and there was still pain, but there was also a weird sense of belonging. Of wanting more of him.

You looked up at him in awe. The feeling so overwhelming, you couldn't help your hands coming up to him to clutch his shoulders. Feeling the firm muscles there and the warmth of his skin.

“I chose you,” he told you as he started moving, still gentle and slow, while you were experiencing the pleasure of connecting with him for the first time. “I did not want to get married, but I chose you, and I will not let another man have you, you understand? He is no gentleman and soon it will be proven. I can't blame you too much, you are naive and you were untried. He took advantage. You wouldn't be the only one. He would have ruined your reputation and left you in shame.”

He thrusted harder and it shook your whole body. “But I will not let him succeed. He thinks he can take everything from me, all that I own, but I am here to tell you the only one who owns you is me.”

You couldn't even speak, your body moved with him, and it was almost too much and never enough. You let out sounds you would normally be embarrassed about, and he kissed you and swallowed each of them.

“It is my fault, I paid you no attention. You're my wife, you deserve better. I was angry to have to marry, and I was angry to find out I wanted you, I thought I could keep control. But the thought of you with that man…. No.”

He moved even faster and you shrieked when your body shook once more, and you were completely exhausted. This time he started shaking and moaning with you, and warmth bloomed once more inside of you.

He laid gasping, still inside of you, not caring he was too heavy, but for once you weren't intimidated by him. You felt warm and sheltered.

When he finally lifted his head, he stared at you. “I am not an easy man, it is hard for me to express my feelings. But they are there, and you will not make a mockery of them.”

You blinked at him, surprised by everything you heard him say.

“My Lord..”

“Ransom! Always Ransom to you, I will not hear you speak another man's name but mine.” He eyed you until you nodded.

He kissed your cheek softly. “I will be a better husband, and you will feel the way I feel about you. Starting with this,” somehow he moved again and you gasped once more.

Ransom turned out to be right. Charles Blackwood was of lower upbringing, intending to steal from wealthier bloodlines, and it seemed that he had meant to take advantage of you and not just steal the estate. He would have ruined you, you realized, and suddenly all his sweet words tasted sour in the back of your mouth.

Things with your husband, however, improved significantly after that eventful evening, and he made great effort into conversing with you.

And at night it was rare he did not visit you. Feelings turned from loneliness, to want, to desire, to love.

He had confessed that in order to keep his wealth he needed to be wed before he turned 30, but had only reluctantly started trying only a few months before the set time. And he couldn't bear any of the other options. That you alone had caught his interest, and then his heart. But he had not known any kindness growing up, and he hadn't liked how you made him feel. He had intended to marry you and live his life like he had always done. In seclusion. However, he found it difficult with you around. And when Blackwood appeared he found himself suddenly overcome with feelings he never experienced before. He had wanted to challenge him to a duel and bury him so he would never touch you again. But it made him aware he could not fight his feelings any longer.

He never wanted to be apart from you again, and he only wished you could forgive him his abysmal behavior, and give him a chance to know you and you him. A marriage of love and not convenience.

Not that he let you any other choice. He resumed his husbandly duties every night, until you were finally with child, and when the doctor informed you of the happy expectations, he had never looked more proud and more loving than at that moment.

“I love you,” he told you as soon as you were alone again, and you wholesomely could reply this time.

“I love you too."

#ransom drysdale #an inconvenient attachment

20 notes · View notes