She was beautiful, and kind, and much better at the games of the aristocracy than he was.
"My lord husband," she said, her green eyes glancing up at him from beneath her fan, "the next time that horrid man visits and says something out of turn, please refrain from threatening his life."
"He deserved it," Hector pouted.
She smiled and took her fan away, tucking a few loose strands of fiery red hair behind her ear. "Yes, he did. But it's not very becoming of a man in your position to resort to beating 'the living shit' out of someone."
He raised an eyebrow at her, but grinned to hear her quote him. "I knew there was a reason I kept you around," he said.
"A reason?" She narrowed her eyes. "There had better be more than one."
He pretended to be deep in thought for a moment. "Nope," he finally said, and grinned harder when he felt her fan hit his face. "Just one."
"It had better be a damned good reason, then," she said, smiling despite herself.
"Of course, Priscilla!" he said, chuckling as he walked over to her vanity and placed her fan on it.
"Then what is it?" she asked, tilting her head back to look up at him.
He leaned over and brushed his lips against her ear, making her shiver slightly. "Because you're you," he said simply.
This is yet another very late 'fic done for charity, and this one's for MeasuringLife. As always, feedback is appreciated! Thank you for reading. (This is unedited.)