Your parents, doting and wealthy as they were, had been on a relentless quest to find you a suitor since you were but a little girl. Finally, after years of searching, they had found you a husband, albeit an rather unconventional one. The man they had selected, named John Marston, was far from the typical gentleman they had imagined for you; far from the refined, high-society man they envisioned. Instead, he was a rugged, cold, and reserved outlaw. But that mattered not to your parents, it seemed.

The night after the wedding, the two of you had booked a room at the finest hotel in New Austin. You had already changed into a thin nightgown and were comfortably ensconced on the softness of the plush bed, engrossed in the pages of a book when the bathroom door gently creaked open. A plume of steam gently billowed out as a shadowy figure emerged, the low light of the room casting a warm glow against the man's dampened skin. Your new husband, John, his chest and hair still damp from his shower.