"I like what you have done to the house," Thomas suddenly said. Madilyn startled and her head shot to the door. She had not heard it open, yet Thomas was there. She had been reading a book on her bed – a habit she never wanted to let go of. Her parents had said twas improper, but they had banished her, so mayhap she could make her own rules.

Thomas walked inside her bedchamber and closed the door behind him. He took a seat on a coach that was placed near the window.

"I would like to do the same in Lindenberg," she told him. And change all the furniture – especially that in the dining room, she thought. She closed the book and looked at him.

He seemed quite uncomfortable, and she feared he might finally voice his question. He had to know, tis true. But he did not want a child. He had hated her for carrying his child, yet now she had to tell him he ought to expect two.

He had merely looked at her for almost two months now, never voicing the question that was clearly in his eyes. She wondered why he had never asked, but she also liked not having to tell him. But she knew that within these last two months, she would have to tell him. Otherwise he will know the moment she would give birth. And she could understand it if he would be angry at her then.

"I told the servants not to interrupt me," she told him as nonchalantly as possible, "but mayhap I should have told you as well."

He leaned with his elbows on his knees and shook his head. "I knew. But I ignored your request."

"Why?" She tried to sound indifferent, like she was not hiding something and like she was not afraid to tell him.

His head lifted up and his eyes met hers. "We need to talk."

She closed the book and laid it beside her on the bed. "About what?"

"You know about what," he said, staring into her eyes. He suddenly looked more comfortable, like he was not afraid to ask what he was about to ask. Madilyn hoped she looked equally as confident, but she doubted it.

"And you do not," she confirmed his suspicion, "for I have not told you."

"Is that why you are avoiding me?"

She slowly nodded her head. "Are you angry with me?"

"Angry?" He seemed to think about it for a while. "I am not angry that you avoid me. And I am also not angry because you are keeping something from me. But I am starting to worry about what you are keeping from me."

So he worried about her words but not about her wellbeing. Should she be surprised?

When she did not say anything, he stood up and walked to the bed, where he sat down on. "What is the matter? I thought things were going well between us."

She gave him a mocking laughter. "Well? We are husband and wife, yet we do not even behave like friends."

"Then let us," he told her, his voice raising slightly. His eyes bore into hers, and his hands moved to take hers. But they remained hanging above them. Both looked at their hands, and she wondered what he would do. He pulled them back, and she was quite disappointed.

"You dare not even touch me," she told him, her voice breaking as she was close to crying. "So do not tell me we can be friends."

"Is that what you want?" he asked, not able to hide the anger that was building up inside him. "That I touch you?"

"Among others, yes."

He suddenly did what she never expected he would do. He took her head in his hands and pulled his closer. Then he pressed his lips on hers and ignited a sudden fire in her body.

That mere touch of lips against lips made her feel whole again – fulfilled even. Twas like the touch chased away the loneliness inside her.

The skin heated up where he touched her. She found this experience much different from the first time they kissed. This kiss was soft and gentle, not hungry like seven months ago.

If back then she would feel uncomfortable and tense, now she felt more calm then ever before. Her mind was spinning and her body asked for more, but he moved slow and gently caressed her.

He pushed her down to lay on her back, and even that was kind. While his tongue urged her lips to open, his body did not lean on hers. He moved next to her, and only his arm wrapped around her. His other hand was in her hair, pushing her head closer to him.

He was warm and soft, she found. And she liked it more than the first time. Yet she could not ignore the nagging feeling that she was guilty of something.

His softness and kindness made it all feel unimportant and irrelevant, but a part of her mind told her the opposite.

He pulled away from her to take a breath, then reconnected. Even when his lips were not on hers, she was not strong enough to let the rational part of her mind speak. She felt like she was in a cloudlike bubble, thinking of nothing but his touch and his warmth and his softness and his kindness.

She suddenly did not understand why she had hated him or how she could have avoided him. His hand that was now on her cheek was something she never wanted to let go of, and his lips were something she always wanted in her proximity.

But she should push him away, for this was wrong. Twas not wrong for a wife to kiss her husband, but for a liar to kiss the unknowing person. So she softly pushed his shoulder and made him move away from her. "No, stop."

He looked down on her, his panting hard and loud. He sounded worried when he asked: "am I hurting you?"

"No," she answered as she turned her head away. Then she sighed and said: "I cannot do this. Not when I have not told you."

"Then, please," he said patiently, "tell me."

She closed her eyes and tried to push back the tears. Her heart broke now that she had to tell him that his world was not merely going to change, twas going to collapse. His wife had been avoiding him, for she was carrying a secret – literally. And now she had to tell him, for there was no way out of this. And even if there was, the rational part of her mind had finally taken over and convinced her he should know before she gave birth.

She knew he was still hanging above her and that he was watching her struggle. So she did not prolong the moment and blurred: "I am pregnant with twins."

She opened her eyes when she felt him move away from her. She sat up to look at him, but he had his back turned to her. The tears were burning in her eyes, and probably in his too. Was he angry with her? Disappointed? Would he hate her more now?

She laid a hand on his shoulder and softly said: "Thomas?"

He did not turn to her, but he did speak. "Is that why you have been avoiding me?"

She swallowed and looked down at the hand that was rubbing her belly. With a shaking voice she told him: "I was afraid to tell you."

He turned around to look at her. The room remained quiet for a while, until his soft voice asked: "why?"

"Because I am ruining your life." She looked up at him, her vision blurred by the tears. "You unwillingly married me because I am unwillingly pregnant, and now not merely two people will be forced in your life, but three. And do you not know of the complications that a twin could give? Victoria had so many difficulty while giving birth to just one child, but I have to give birth to two. How could I-"

"Victoria has an illness," Thomas calmly interrupted her rambling. "One you do not have. Yet she still she survived, and gave birth to healthy boy." He took her hands in his while he said: "And yes, everything that happened in the last seven months was quite unexpected, but not unwilling."

"You did not want a child yet," she said, almost spitting out the words because she did not believe him. Yet he did not sound like he was lying.

"That does not mean I will not be happy with it." His lips suddenly turned into a smile while he corrected himself: "happy with them."

She finally dared looking in his eyes. "You would be happy with twins?"

He nodded his head. "I would be happy with no matter how many children."

She laughed while tears flowed and a sobbed escaped, but she was happy. And very relieved. He wanted the twin, and he would accept her too.