'So I just fill the bucket with sand? And upturn it?' Her husband asked Elizabeth and Michael who had taken on the gargantuan task of teaching Benedict to build a sandcastle. They had come to the beach once again, after she had made sure Ben would be alright with it. The tide was high so the children would not be allowed to swim and would only be there to fly their kites, which went a long way toward easing his concerns. He had been coming with her to the orphanage as of late and the children had grown rather fond of him. He was a little awkward and unsure of himself at times, but he dealt with them well, letting them prattle on with their stories and show him their projects. The only thing was that he tended to speak to them as if they were small-sized adults, rather than children, but that was hardly his own fault. It was the way his own parents had raised him, he did not know any better.

'No, you silly billy! You have to make sure you pack it in realllyyyy well. Or else it'll just fall apart.'

Ben nodded seriously, pushing the sand into the bucket and pressing down on it in intervals. Today, he had cast off his cravat and waistcoat, sitting only in his shirtsleeves and looking unfortunately delicious. This whole List of Fun business was not very good for her resolve to never develop feelings for her husband. In fact, she was feeling a whole host of things right now; affection, adoration, and, most importantly, a healthy amount of lust. Honestly, it was indecent how he had rolled up his sleeves to show his forearms, drawing attention to his strong capable hands. Hands that knew how to touch her just right. Fingers that had sunk into her while he had whispered dirty words in her ear.

It was beginning to feel like a little sexual gratification might just be worth the threat he posed to her emotional well-being.

Because she had no doubts now; it would be good. He would fill her so well and he would play with her just right, all while muttering the filthiest, most vulgar praise she could imagine.

At least she could blame her flush on the hotness of the day. She shot a look heavenward, wondering if it was a sin to think lustful thoughts about one's husband. Surely not. It was surely all quite normal to want your husband to bend you over the edge of a bed and enter you in one hard buck of his hips-

A loud wave crashed over a nearby rock, spraying her with some salty water.

Well. Point taken, God.

She observed him turn over the bucket and then lift it very carefully, shooting her a triumphant grin once the sand underneath maintained its shape. And somehow even that managed to send her most intimate area aflutter. And while she was happy to keep watching from her position a few feet away, she had a more pressing task at hand. She turned her face to a very, very sullen-looking Prudence and Nicholas, who were refusing to look at one another.

'Now, I am going to give both of you turns to speak. And you will tell me why the two of you have behaved so unkindly to one another.'

The two started to protest and complain in unison, their cacophony rendering it impossible for Vera to hear a single word.  She quickly quelled it with a stern, 'Children! Silence please.'

'Yes, Your Grace.' They replied in dejected unison.

'Prudence.' She began sternly. 'Why did you call Nicholas such a mean word?'

'Because he is a bastard.' She replied mutinously.

'And how is that relevant? He has nothing to be ashamed of for his father's sins, you're old enough to know better, Pru.'

'He called my sketches rubbish and said no one would ever buy anything I made!' She explained in frustration. 'He was being mean so I was being mean right back!'

Minerva took her hand and gave it a squeeze to reassure her that she was not too angry.

'Now, Nicholas. Did you get upset because Prudence had been talking about her parents?'

Nicholas's eye widened and then watered, but he stiffened his upper lip and offered a wobbly nod.

'Nick, sweetheart, you've been with us since you were less than a year old. You don't have many memories of your Mama, but she loved you dearly. Prudence only lost her mama and papa two years ago, and sometimes she misses them so very much that she has no choice but to talk about them. It makes her feel closer to them.'

Another stiff nod.

'It was very unkind of you, Nicholas, to tell Prudence her sketches were rubbish and her art was useless. And you are not an unkind boy, that much I know.'

Nicholas mumbled something under his breath.

'I want the two of you to apologize to one another. Not only because you feel bad, and I know both of you do, but because you are family. Granted, not by blood, but family nonetheless. And family fights and argues and yells. But more importantly than that, family forgives.  Family loves.'

At Vera's expectant look, he spoke a little louder. 'I didn't mean it Pru, I'm sorry. I'll buy my wife a million dresses from your boutique.'

'And I really shouldn't have called you such a bad word. Your papa is rubbish if he didn't want you, we want you. We love you, Nick.'

'I love you too. All of you.'

They hugged and then because she couldn't help herself she enveloped them both into her arms and somehow someone lost their balance and the three of them were an undignified, giggling heap on the sandy floor of the beach.

Once she had bade them to go play, she joined her husband, who was now carving windows into the heaps of sand that represented the castle walls. She dropped a quick kiss to his cheek once she made sure no one was looking because really, he was just too adorable. He returned the gesture with a quick kiss to her temple before returning to his arduous task. He had been doing that a lot lately; touching her, offering her chaste kisses and casual caresses. Seemed that he was rather serious about the courting business. He had even presented her with a bouquet of hothouse flowers just yesterday. Taken her riding the day before. They had started retiring to her private library after dinner to enjoy reading, though she had yet to convince him to give The Pirate's Prisoner Princess a try. And well, sometimes they found themselves on the same sofa, either one resting on the other's lap.

Yes, things were certainly becoming a little cozy. But she had promised to give him a fair chance with an open mind, so she was trying her best to not let her fear daunt her.

'Are you having fun?' She whispered into his ear and he shot her a sideways look.

'Yes, I think so. It is not so complicated, but I do feel...calm. I didn't realize I had so many thoughts running inside my head at the same time. It feels very good to just not think.'

Minerva nodded in understanding, reclining onto the blanket he was on.

'But I like this,' he opened his mouth and then closed it again, as if deciding against speaking.

'What is it?' She urged and he shot her a sheepish look.

'I was thinking that I hope that one day we are at a place where we can build sandcastles with our ten children.'

'Ten.' She choked. 'Even five was pushing it, Husband.'

He turned and grinned at her. 'Be grateful I've limited it, madam. By my calculations, we need at least thirty to get every combination of personality and appearance between you and I. And that is not even counting the children who would want to be absolutely nothing like us.'

She rolled her eyes and turned away hoping to hide her blush. Hoping to hide the longing and want in her eyes. She was not ready. Not for this, and would not be for a long time.

'Minerva,' He was pulling her into his arms. She buried her face into his neck. This conversation always brought out the worst of her hurts. 'Forgive me, I did not wish to upset you. When I speak of having a family, I do not wish for you to feel pushed. The if, when, and how many are entirely up to you. It is just that......when I see a family, I can only imagine it if it's with you. It only makes sense if it's with you.'

She nodded against his neck, letting his touch comfort her.

Dash it. Who on earth had told this man he wasn't romantic?

The basket resting on his bed let out a long, sad mewl. Ben's eyes traveled to the basket, then to his delighted wife, and back to the basket. It moved.

'Open it.' His wife beamed, making urging motions with her hands.

He approached the basket with the amount of caution due to a container that housed what was likely an animal. He lifted the lid slowly and the second he did, a fluffy brown head popped out, two blue eyes staring at him in complaint. Another long mewl, this time angry.

And then without much ceremony, the creature jumped out of the basket, landing on his bed and taking a big stretch as if to say Well! Took you long enough, servant! After which it promptly trotted up to his pillow, sniffing in an investigation of its new surroundings, brown tail high in the air. Clearly satisfied with what it had seen, it then hopped off of the bed, coming to investigate Benedict. It wound itself around his feet, purring in delight, and then began to knead his carpet before settling on the chair in front of the fire. It let out one more final meow to say You and my lodgings are adequate, servant. And then promptly curled up into a ball to sleep.

'You really got me a cat.' He turned to his wife who was grinning at him and Christ he wanted to be the cause of all of her smiles. And the recipient. His own mouth tugged into a large smile.

'She's magnificent, isn't she? It took me two weeks to arrange it. Apparently, Persians with brown fur are bred very carefully and are very rare, to begin with.'

'You got me a cat.' He repeated like an idiot.

'Indeed. And now you can proudly say that your pet has better pedigree than your wife.' She winked at him, eliciting a startled laugh from him.

'Do not talk about yourself like that. Not even in jest.' He chided softly. 'Pedigree and good breeding, much good they did my father and brother.'

'But, Ben-'

He held up a palm, 'I used to think they mattered. I was always taught that they did. And then I got stuck in Cornwall with my wife. And she is a better person than most with the most unimpeachable family names.'

'Thank you, Ben.' She blushed. 'What shall you name her?'

She was still wary of him, his wife. He felt a small frisson of panic at the prospect that she would remain wary of him their entire lives. How could he make her see that he meant every damn word out of his mouth?

'I think it's obvious, do you not? Athena. Or Duchess. I am yet undecided.'

'Minerva's Greek counterpart.' His wife observed with a quirk of her eyebrow. 'Why?'

He tenderly scooped the cat up into his arm, the creature resigned herself to treatment and offered him some licks to his nose, assaulting him with the smell of fish. He motioned his wife to follow him until they were in front of the dressing table that had a mirror. The cat opened her blue eyes to give their reflections a judgmental perusal. Minerva let out an amused snort.

'Well, perhaps I do see the resemblance. The shade of her fur is surprisingly close to my hair, though her eyes are lighter.'

'And look at her evil beady eyes, tell me if she isn't going to be a mischievous little thing.'

The cat decided that she had finally had enough of his manhandling and wriggled out of his grasp and landed in an elegant heap of fur on the floor. She rubbed herself against Ben's feet, took a cautious sniff of Vera's skirts, and once again hopped onto his bed.

'Why sir! A Duchess simply has better things to do than involve herself in shenanigans and mischief.' She chuckled.

He tsked, 'How easily my wife forgets her roots. The Americans are sorry to see you go.'

She let out an outraged gasp. 'Husband, I am a patriot! American born and raised! As if I would let something as insignificant as a husband sway my loyalties.'

Ben struggled to remind himself that she was joking, but his entire body went stiff nonetheless. He felt hurt, nonetheless. He reminded himself that if she found him insignificant, it was his fault. But, Christ, he wanted to matter. He wanted her to acknowledge it. He wanted her to soothe him and tell him he was important to her, precious to her as she was to him.

He moved so she was crowded between him and the dressing table. And damn if it didn't swell his pride the way she immediately blushed, her breath becoming rapid. Her gaze flittered to his mouth. She leaned into him, breasts pressing into his chest.

And suddenly it was imperative for him to confirm that she was attracted to him still. That she wanted him as much as he wanted her.

'Ben. Uhm-' She said, breathless.

Christ, he was already half hard.

'Wife,' he warned her, 'I am going to kiss you. If you wish to run away you ought to do it now.'

'Well,' she blushed harder but did not make to leave, 'there is a small problem with that.'

'Problem? I promise you courting couples kiss all the time.' He assured her, and then wanting to remind her, 'You also owe me the forfeit from when you kissed me.'

'You've already kissed me once since then, fiend! And I am not altogether opposed to kissing, at this moment. It's just that.....You see, as of late I feel......' She was more scarlet than a tomato.

'You feel?' He urged, worried at whatever was bothering her.

'I feel as if I want to do more than kiss.' She mumbled finally, refusing to meet his eyes. Well. If he had been half hard before, he was almost tearing through the seams of his trousers now.

'How much more, sweetheart?' He asked on a ragged breath. 'As much as last time?'

When she made to escape he gripped her arms and forced her to stay still.

'Never say, wife mine, that you've been lusting after me.' He grinned at her even though his cock was almost painfully hard. It was the same as last time, she amused him and aroused him in equal measure. She made a protesting sound before nodding shyly and he almost stopped breathing.

'And tell me, my darling wife, did you try to take care of it by yourself?' Masculine triumph rioted through him once her shocked eyes snapped to his, the guilt evident. 'Jesus Christ. And did you think of me when you played with yourself?'

'Yes.' She whispered. 'But it wasn't as nice as when you did it.'

Good Lord, it was a miracle he hadn't spilled in his trousers already. 'Liked being stuffed with my fingers, did you?' At her scandalized nod, his grin turned almost predatory. 'I'll do it for you again, but you know how much I like it when you ask me so very nicely.'

'Please, Ben.'

'Please, what, sweetheart?'

'Please, Ben. Kiss me. Make me come like you did last time.'

Thank God.

He finally put his mouth on hers, not caring this time to be too gentle, knowing that she enjoyed it when he was a little rough and crude. He began pulling on the laces of her gown, pausing his kiss only when necessary to help her step out of her clothing. She joined him, her fingers almost frantic, shaking, pulling, and tugging until her corset came loose. He reached to untie her garters, and then decided to leave them on.

God. She looked like something out of a man's most depraved fantasies, with her generous breasts, inquisitive eyes, and the innocent white ribbons on her stockings.

'If anything is uncomfortable, tell me.' He took off his coat and placed it on the dressing table. 'Brace your hands on the table.'

'You're going to-' She squeaked in horror, 'here? In front of the mirror?'

'Objections?' He asked, sobering immediately. 'You need only tell me to stop and it stops, yes?'

'I- surely this isn't proper?'

'We're married, it's as proper as it gets.'

She seemed to consider that and then said on a sob, 'Very well.'

'There's my girl.' He groaned appreciatively as he took one of her legs and bent it at the knee so that it was resting against the surface of the table where he had put his coat so that the edge did not bite into her skin. The position left her exposed to him, her adorable round arse presented to him, and the glistening pink of her sweet, tight little cunt visible. He raised his eyes only to find that hers were closed. 'I just want you to see how pretty you are when you're wild with wanting. How exquisite you are when you're coming.'

'Ben, this is too wicked!' She protested, eyes shut tight.

'Watch.' He snarled in her ear, making her gasp. Slowly her eyes fluttered open, seeing the lewd position she was in, she let out a strangled sound. Another cry as he sank two fingers deep inside her, the new position making it possible to go even further than last time. 'Fucking hell. You always get so wet for me, love.'

She let out a helpless sound, panting with her desire.

Christ, she was milking his fingers like a fist.

'Poor, needy wife,' he chuckled as she wriggled around, adjusting to the width of his fingers, trying to encourage his movement. 'You ought to do some of the work too, you know. Show me how you played with yourself when you were thinking of me.'

She clamped down on him so hard, he almost came. His trousers were already likely a mess from the fluid leaking from his cock. With each pass of his fingers, she made adorable needy sounds in the back of her throat.

'You like being told what to do, don't you? Wicked, naughty little wife.' He curled his fingers lazily inside her, hitting the spot inside her that had her legs trembling. 'Which is just as well, I'm a high-handed bastard even on a good day.'

'Only by you.' She whimpered. 'I only like it when you tell me what to do.'

'Oh, fuck, sweetheart.' He groan helplessly, beginning to pump his fingers in and out of her, enjoying the way her tits bounced with each thrust of his fingers. Their gazes were riveted to the point in the mirror where she had brought one hand to stroke her clitoris. 'Good fucking answer.'

As a reward, he increased his pace, slamming his fingers into her harder and harder as she began to move her hips to receive his thrusting fingers, getting tighter and tighter until she finally clamped down on him hard. She cried out his name repeatedly as her hips jerked, her come bathing his fingers, slumping against the cool surface of the mirror, watching him as he took his fingers into his mouth and sucked them clean of her taste. She shuddered, unable to look away from him. She took heavy, heaving breaths before finally saying. 'Oh, thank you, Ben. You always make me feel so good.'

'Your pleasure is my pleasure, sweet love.' He pressed kisses against her back until she stopped trembling. He grazed her back with his teeth, knowing that her skin would be marked by morning. It gave him a perverse, barbaric satisfaction that he was too far gone to be concerned about. Let her damn maid know that her husband pleasured her to within an inch of her life. 'Now on your knees, if you please.'

His heart warmed at the haste with which she complied with his request, though she was still perhaps not entirely in control of her limbs. She reached for the placket of his trouser when he caught her hands. 'Love, I swear if you touch me, it will be over far too soon. I'm already too close.'

'But I-' She looked disappointed, but let her hands fall.

With shaking hands he loosened his own laces, fisting himself. He was not going to last very long at all, even by his own hand. 'Now cup your breasts for me. Oh yes, just like that, my good wife. My perfect fucking wife.'

Too much, he wanted her too much, she made him too out of control. In a few harsh pumps, he was coming across her magnificent full tits in thick, white ropes. Once she had wrung every last drop of cum from him, he sank to his knees right next to her, kissing her mouth, face, cheeks in gratitude. 'You cannot possibly know how often I have wanted to do this to you. Make a complete and utter mess of you. I dreamt of it. Twice. Made a mess in the sheets both times like a youth not even twenty.'

'You are an entirely different person in the bedroom, Your Grace.' She observed with some amusement.

He hummed an agreement as he set about cleaning her with one of his handkerchiefs.

'Come, I'll run you a bath.' He scooped her up into his arms and carried her into the dressing room, where he deposited her on a settee, fetched her a robe, and left the tap running to fill the tub. And after she was clean and drowsy, he carried her to bed. His bed. He shushed her halfhearted request to be taken back to her own chamber, and then he slipped under the covers, pulled her warm body against his, and joined her in oblivion.  

At some point in the night, his wife shook him awake. He cracked one eye open, making a curious, hmmm?

'Just so we are clear, I shall only tolerate your high-handedness when we are being intimate and not in any other matter!'

He let out a short bark of laughter and pulled her back into his arms.

God help him if he ever developed that misconception again.