Just One Kiss

by Stephanie Sterling

  However, he knew too well how cruel the ton could be, and he was afraid to ask his wife exactly what she might have had to endure in his absence. Well, he was back now to look after her, Edward reasoned, with a sudden surge of… protectiveness… that frankly terrified him.

  Chapter 7

  Daphne had eaten a light lunch all alone. She was sitting in her drawing room at present, not doing her embroidery. She had always hated embroidering as a young girl; she’d never had the patience for it, but over the years it had instilled in her a rigid sort of discipline. Now, however, all of that hard won control seemed to be slipping through her fingers like so many grains of sand.

  It was all Edward’s fault!

  Maybe if she understood what he expected from her, things wouldn’t be so hard. Oh yes, she knew about the baby, but what else did he want? She didn’t know how to be a wife after all-she’d never been given the opportunity before. The women she saw out in London weren’t exactly people she wanted to emulate… there was her mother of course, but then-she hadn’t spoken to her mother for over a year.

  She could simply ask Edward, Daphne supposed. But would he consider that another of her failings? Daphne wished more than anything that there was a friend that she could turn to for advice, but there was no one. The closest thing she had was her brother Anthony, and half the time she feared that he was disappointed and exasperated with her.

  “Daphne?”

  Daphne jumped, pricking her finger. She hadn’t heard the door open, and Wilkins certainly hadn’t announced him, (although-Daphne supposed that was no longer necessary) but Edward was very definitely standing in the doorway of her drawing room, staring at her with an indescribable expression on his face.

  “Most people find that it is polite to knock before entering a lady’s room,” she sniffed haughtily.

  “Even when the lady in question is one’s wife?” Edward bandied back calmly. Daphne glared over at him, only to find, rather disconcertingly, that he seemed to be amused by her little outburst. “Why Daphne, what might you be up to in your sitting room that you’d want to hide from your husband?” he asked innocently, but his eyes were glittering wickedly, as he wandered into the room.

  Not having an answer for that, Daphne had to content herself with a piqued ‘oh!’ as she fumbled for a handkerchief to wrap around her finger. It was bleeding a little, not much, but it hurt. She had managed to tear the skin when she’d jumped instead of just inflicting a neat little prick.

  “Let me see,” Edward said, crouching down in front of Daphne.

  She was going to tell him no, she was going to tell him that she was fine, that it was only a little scratch, but once again she found that Edward’s hands were gently holding her own. This time he was carefully unwrapping the lacy handkerchief that she had pressed over the little cut.

  “It’s nothing, really,” she finally managed to say, trying but failing to pull her hand away from his-this was almost as bad as those silly swooning girls who pretended to faint at parties! Daphne only hoped that Edward didn’t think she’d hurt herself on purpose!

  “Stay still,” Edward scolded, when Daphne tried again to free her hand from his gentle but firm grip. “You’re lucky, it’s not deep,” he said, inspecting the damage. Daphne couldn’t help but think that was a little rich! It was his fault after all that she’d been surprised in the first place. “The needle could have broken off under the skin,” Edward murmured, holding the bloody cotton of her handkerchief over the cut until it stopped bleeding.

  “That sounds a little horrific for a little sewing accident!” Daphne scoffed.

  “Perhaps,” Edward said. He looked up at Daphne from where he was still crouched on the floor in front of her, and he smiled. He smiled at her, and the stinging pain in Daphne’s finger disappeared. “But perhaps it’s taught me that I need to knock on this lady’s drawing room door in the future?” he breathed softly.

  “Oh no, I was just being-” Daphne began, but had to stop suddenly when Edward coiled his fingers around her own and lifted her knuckles to his mouth. He dropped a kiss against her hand, and then gently twisted her wrist, and pressed his lips against the pale skin above her skipping pulse. Daphne’s breath hitched in her throat. “What-” she stammered. “What are you doing?”

  Edward lifted his head. There was a darkness in his eyes that Daphne had never seen before, and an upward tilt to his lips that wasn’t a smile, but seemed to hint at something more. “Kissing it better?” he purred, the gravelly edge to his voice made Daphne’s skin flush.

  Edward honestly hadn’t meant to push things. He’d just wanted to soothe Daphne a little, and prove to her that he could still be kind and gentle when he wanted to be, but the catch in her breath was like a spark against kindling. Desire flared to life, stirring his blood and waking his body. He moved his lips from Daphne’s wrist to her palm, listening with a surge of very male satisfaction to the unsteady rush of his wife’s breath.

  “Ed-Edward?” she whispered shakily, but Edward didn’t stop.

  He raised himself off the floor a little as his lips trailed up the arm off Daphne’s fine gown. The silky fabric was soft and sleek against his skin, but Edward was impatient to taste the salty tang of Daphne’s neck and then the sweetness of her lips. With the skill of a man who knew what he was doing, Edward was suddenly seated on the couch beside his wife, having twined her unresisting arm around his neck.

  He leant a little closer to sample his prize, unable to stop his body from tightening as Daphne continued to gasp under his ministrations. She was exquisitely sensitive. Edward bit back a groan as he imagined how responsive she might be when he had her beneath him. Promising himself that there would be time to explore the full delights that his wife had to offer later, he slowly dabbed his lips up the elegant column of her throat, and then rewarded himself for his patience by finally claiming her mouth.

  Edward felt Daphne’s fingers flex as she held onto his shoulders. She gasped, her lips parting, and Edward couldn’t stop himself from flicking his tongue between her teeth. He’d never kissed her like this before. In truth, he’d never kissed her before at all. And with a terrifying sense of certainty, Edward knew that he could kiss her for the rest of his life and never ever tire of doing so. There was an addictive friction, an inescapable magnetism, one touch, one taste, and Edward was held in her thrall for life. There was only one thing wrong…

  “Daphne?” he rasped, as his hands skimmed hungrily down her back, drawing her nearer as he moved to topple her down onto the cushions of the sofa. “Daphne, kiss me back,” he panted. To his surprise, Edward felt his wife tense. She pushed against his chest, but she would have been incapable of actually moving him, if Edward had not reined in his self control and relented, shifting back an inch.

  “I can’t,” Daphne croaked, and Edward finally saw the panic, the fear, in her eyes. “I don’t know how,” she whimpered, seemingly mortified by her own inexperience, which had the adverse affect of making Edward’s body harden another degree. If he could only calm her down…

  “I can teach you,” he puffed against her ear, but Daphne didn’t relax even a fraction. In fact, to Edward’s deep frustration and private hurt, she baulked completely-leaping off the couch and struggling to her feet, and as her husband was in no condition to follow he watched, open-mouthed as she flailed.

  “I don’t think-that is-my lord, you don’t want-I can’t-oh!” she sobbed, as she backed towards the door, fumbling with the handle before fleeing down the hall.

  Daphne didn’t stop running until she reached her room, and then she finally allowed herself to burst into a flood of unceremonious tears. What had she done? But more than that, what was the matter with her? Edward, her Edward, had been holding her, kissing her, just like she’d always dreamed, but she had been too tense to enjoy a moment of it, because she had been terrified of doing something wrong.

  One mistake. Just one. And it could cost Daphne her husband all over again. She really didn’t
think that she could stand the shame of that.

  Chapter 8

  It was only mid afternoon, but Daphne rang for her maid. She didn’t even bother to hide her fresh tears this time. Her head was pounding from a lack of sleep, her heart ached, and even her finger throbbed! She changed into a simple white flowing nightdress and robe and crawled into bed, wanting nothing more than to lose herself in the blissful oblivion of sleep until dinner.

  Oh God. How was she going to face Edward at dinner?

  That didn’t prove to be quite the problem that Daphne had envisaged, but only because the door that separated her room from her husband’s swung open and admitted Edward just as Daphne was lying down to rest. She sat up bolt right and shrieked.

  “I would have knocked,” Edward said. Daphne couldn’t read the tone of his voice, although she was rather too busy hiking the blankets up under her chin to give the matter too much thought. “But I didn’t want to wake you if you were already asleep.”

  “What did you want, Lord Coventry?” Daphne whispered. She was paying enough attention now to see the shadow that fell across her husband’s face as his eyes lingered heavily on her four-poster bed. Did he intend to finish what he’d started downstairs? Daphne didn’t understand the tick that flared to life between her legs, but she squirmed in uncomfortable embarrassment.

  “I wanted to see if you were all right,” Edward murmured slowly.

  He walked cautiously towards the bed. He was probably afraid that she’d make another bolt for the door, Daphne considered wryly. He didn’t understand though, did he? What it felt like to be so completely helpless, to be so wholly at the mercy of another person?

  “I’m all right,” Daphne whimpered. What had happened to all of her strength? She had been forced to realize that it was all a bluff, perhaps?

  “Daphne,” Edward sighed, leaving the foot of the bed and approaching her side of the mattress. “Quite clearly you are not.”

  Daphne drew a shaky breath and then turned and stared at Edward accusingly. “Well, what did you expect?” she snapped shakily. “You turn up after six years, Edward-six years-I didn’t know if you were alive or dead half of the time!” she railed explosively. “And-and you expectI don’t even know what you expectI don’t know how to be a wife!” she continued, her voice cracking with the emotion that she was pouring into the words. “I know what you’re going to say!” she shot at him, before Edward had a chance to open his mouth. “That it’s my fault. That it’s all my fault! Well I know that, Edward! I’ve had people telling me that for six years!” she shouted, finally breaking down on the last exclamation.

  There was a minute or two of stillness and tears, and then Daphne startled when Edward reached out and touched her. He didn’t let her shy away however, but held her still and gently rubbed a soothing circle over her back. “Come here,” he murmured gently, sitting on the edge of the bed, and gathering Daphne into his arms.

  “What are you going to do?” she sniffed, but didn’t have the energy to fight him anymore.

  “Nothing you don’t want,” Edward promised. He brushed his lips against her forehead in a chaste kiss and then simply held her against his chest. Daphne felt herself sinking into the warmth of the protection that her husband seemed finally to be offering. “You’ve been all alone for an awfully long time, haven’t you, Daphne?” he asked softly, just holding her still, asking no more of her.

  Daphne couldn’t know what it was costing Edward to limit himself to nothing more than an innocent embrace, but she was so infinitely grateful for the undemanding pressure of his arms around her body. It felt so heavenly to just be close to someone like this-no one had hugged her in years.

  Slowly her tears lessened, and her breathing evened out, but Daphne stayed nestled snug in her husband’s arms. Her head was pressed tight against his chest, and she could hear the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. It was slowly lulling her to sleep.

  “Better now?” Edward asked gently, stroking Daphne’s hair off her damp cheeks. She gave a silent little nod, afraid that it would mean that Edward was about to leave — which shocked Daphne, given her original terror when he’d entered her chamber. Happily, however, that didn’t appear to be the case. “I was thinking,” he said slowly, “we don’t really have to attend the Butterworth’s ball tomorrow.”

  “But you told Mrs. Butterworth we would,” Daphne said, sitting up a little straighter, just so that she was able to look Edward in the face. “Do you know what happens to people who break their engagements with the Butterworths?” she asked, only half feigning the fierce note of apprehension in her voice. She watched Edward’s lips twitch.

  “Your Mrs. Butterworth doesn’t scare me,” he whispered conspiratorially, kissing her cheek gently, and causing a hot but pleasant warmth to spread through Daphne’s body, reaching to the very tips of her toes.

  “You should still go,” Daphne said, with a small smile, which to Edward’s disappointment didn’t last long. “You can leave me here though, if that what you want, I-”

  “That is not what I want,” Edward interrupted firmly.

  “Then why-?”

  “Because perhaps it wasn’t fair of me to just turn back up in your life and expect everything to be simple,” he confessed quietly, recognizing the truth of the words himself for the first time as he spoke them.

  “Oh,” Daphne breathed quietly, because she really couldn’t think of anything else to say to him.

  She felt silent after that, and Edward wasn’t inclined to talk either. He didn’t let go of her though. He continued to hold her close to his body as the lure of sleep arrived to tempt Daphne again. It was so comfortable, so peaceful lying there with her head resting on Edward’s shoulder, as his hand gently stroked down her back, that she let her eyes drift shut as the tension knotting her muscles slowly ebbed away.

  When sleep came it was deliciously soothing and restorative. Daphne felt as though she was wrapped in a bubble of soft fluffy warmth, but as so often happened in her dreams, the calm didn’t last. The darkness came, and the gnarled forest that held her prisoner, as she ran about stony jagged paths, screaming a name that was never answered, chasing shadows that she never caught.

  Daphne woke with a start. She was alone, cold, and shaking. Her eyes darted fearfully around her bedroom as she struggled to catch her breath. It was dark now, she must have slept through dinner, and she was on her own, Edward had left.

  Why that was so very upsetting Daphne couldn’t explain…

  She waited until her breath had returned to something that was almost normal, and then she slipped from her bed, knowing that sleep wouldn’t come to her again unless she did something to soothe her rattled nerves.

  Chapter 9

  Edward’s eyes flickered open. At first he couldn’t understand what had woken him, and then he realized what it must have been… music. Very soft, as if it was being played from far away, and had seeped into his room as if through a dream. It clearly wasn’t a dream however, and as Edward slowly came fully to his senses, he began to wonder why anyone would be playing a piano during the early hours of the morning?

  He listened for a few more minutes before moving, dragging himself out of bed and then fumbling in the dark for his clothes. He pulled on his breeches and a shirt, but didn’t bother with anything else, creeping out into the hall. Edward was still unfamiliar with the layout of the house, so he had to use the music as his guide as he wandered through the dimly lit corridors.

  It was so achingly sad! It sounded… well, it was a ridiculous notion, but it almost sounded as though the piano itself were crying. It left a terrible, empty feeling in Edward’s chest as he drew closer, almost as though he was hollow inside-missing something.

  Someone walked over his grave and he quickened his pace.

  The door to the music room was ajar, and a thin beam of watery light spilled out into the corridor. Edward moved closer, holding his breath, although he didn’t know why, as he peeked inside the room.

&nbs
p; Daphne sat at the piano.

  Edward’s heart slammed painfully against his chest at the sight of his wife. She was pouring herself into the music as her fingers caressed the keys. It was so beautifully sad as to be unbearable. Edward wanted… oh God… he wanted to drag her into his arms and love her until she was healed. She was obviously in so much pain! He’d broken her. He’d crushed her without even realizing it!

  “Daphne?” he breathed softly, walking quietly into the room. The music stopped abruptly as his wife twisted on the stool to look over at him. Her face was a mask of surprise, but her eyes were glassy and haunted.

  “I’m sorry. Did I wake you?” she murmured, watching Edward, but doing so with a strange, glazed expression in place, as he crossed the room.

  “Don’t apologise,” he said quickly, hesitating for a moment, but then sitting down on the piano stool next to his wife. “I’m a light sleeper,” he mumbled and shrugged, as if by way of explanation. Daphne had turned away though, and was staring blankly at the ivory and ebony keys again now. “But what woke you?” Edward asked gently.

  “I never sleep very well. I have… bad dreams,” she whispered, letting her fingers dance silently over the keys.

  “Often?”

  “Always.”

  Edward frowned. He didn’t know how to respond to that blunt confession. He reached out to touch Daphne’s hand, and his frown deepened when he felt how cold she was.

  “Back to bed now, Daphne,” he prodded gently. “You’ll catch a chill if you stay here like this.” But his wife shook her head frantically, sending her dark curls rippling over her shoulders. “Daph-”

  “They’ll come back,” she squeaked, staring at him imploringly with wide frightened eyes. She looked like a scared little girl, and Edward again felt that uncomfortable twisting of his heart.

  “I’ll stay with you,” he promised. “I’ll look after you,” he murmured, rubbing her icy fingers between his warm palms. She looked puzzled by this curious affirmation, but Edward didn’t want to give her time to question it. “Come with me,” he pressed softly, but Daphne didn’t make a move to follow him. He wondered if somehow she was still half asleep. “Daphne?” he whispered, and then, while he still dared, moved to gently scoop her into his arms.