Tobin partially unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off his frame with a grunt. His eyes glittered with a light that Celia had long ago come to dread. "What are you doing just standing there? Hurry up and undress so you can get on the bed for me."
"Tobin, please. I'm not feeling very well."
"Since when? You seemed perfectly well before." He'd finished completely unlacing his trousers. "Besides, you can't shirk your duties as my wife."
"Husband, please listen to me-"
"Im bored of your arguments. Are you going to do as you're told? Or am I going to have to call in my pages to hold you down on the bed?"
Celia sucked in a harsh breath and pressed a hand to her chest, over her racing heart.
Even more horrible than Tobin's suggestion was the calm with which he'd said it. "That's sick. You wouldn't dare do something so awful and cruel."
"You don't think so?" Tobin smirked at her. "Let's test your theory, shall we?"
