#anya1

Gawain Robards was an influential man, having made a name for himself in the world he resided, a reputation to match his disposition. He was proud of it, unwilling to change it though if he really thought about it, his actions would have been seen as nothing less than cliche according to that disposition. Nevertheless, he'd thrown the galleons for a half eaten dinner for two on top of the pristine tablecloth, eyes burning fire, half of the reason being anger and half being an anticipation that he had controlled easily for a very long time. For the most part, the bickering, the desire to the tension between himself and the woman in front of him was harmless. He had never acted on impulse, kept his thoughts to himself, though he knew better than to think she was blind, unaware of his craving. Her timing had been perfect. The weight of a marriage looming just out of reach, he had taken Doug and Cillian's teasing just a little too seriously and in two months, Annaliese Fawley would be the only woman he would have for the rest of his life. "Look at her," he'd countered, "who wouldn't want to spend the rest of their life with that?" And though he believed his words true, he also had six years of a tension that he realized now, wasn't going away until he did something about it. And if it wasn't going away until he did something about it, he was running out of time.