Edward thought a silent prayer of thanks when she didn’t fight him. She was freezing and so slight, he didn’t imagine that she could weigh anymore than a child.
Daphne’s slim body seemed to melt in Edward’s arms, as he made to carry her back to her room. She nestled against him, burying into his heat, as her fingers played with the warm fabric of his shirt.
“What are you going to do with me, Edward?”
It was the most coherent sentence that Daphne had managed to string together since he’d found her, and frankly Edward could have done without it. Her thin shift was leaving very little to the imagination as she settled in his arms. She was not so voluptuous as some of the women that Edward had been with, but every soft curve seemed to be absolutely perfect. She was like a little porcelain doll, and Edward’s body was beginning to respond to the anticipation of being the one who was going to feast on her purity.
“I’m-taking to you bed,” Edward grunted, wishing that he could really take her to bed. He felt Daphne tense, and she started to squirm in an effort to be put down. “To sleep,” he soothed her quickly, offended again that she seemed to find him so repulsive. “Just to sleep,” he murmured, stopping outside her bedroom door, but then he kept walking.
Her empty room was going to be freezing… He really had no choice other than to take her back to his room.
“Where are we going?” Daphne sighed, she sounded sleepy, but apparently she was cognizant enough to realize that they’d just passed the door to her bedroom.
“I told you,” Edward said as he kicked open the door to his room with his foot. “To bed.”
“My bed’s not in here,” Daphne yawned, but she seemed to have reached a state of exhaustion in which she was totally willing to let Edward do as he pleased with her. He tried very hard not to let that fact prey on his mind too heavily. He didn’t trust himself to be able to keep his fantasies as just that-fantasies- if he allowed his mind to dwell.
Edward used his knee to close the door behind them, and then, with his wife still in his arms he padded over to the large double bed that dominated the room. The blankets were still very faintly warm to the touch as he laid Daphne down on the mattress. She gave a soft little murmured of contentment, and snuggled down into the bed.
Maybe it was unwise, but Edward crawled in beside her. He shivered at the chill on his side of the bed, and then reached for his wife, drawing her slowly warming body into his arms again. She seemed to fit perfectly, he marveled, as she snuggled up against his chest, draping an arm around his waist before giving a heavy, contented sigh, and seemingly drifting off to sleep.
For several long minutes, Edward simply stared at his wife through the darkness. He breathed in the scent of her skin, a delightful combination of lilies and soap, and tried not to think about the way that her legs had become entwined with his own. He still had his breeches and shirt on. It wasn’t as though he could touch her skin, and yet he could feel the pressure of her body nestled up against him, and he could imagine how easy it would be to roll Daphne onto her back, and take her, and make her his own.
It was several seconds before Edward realized he had been dreaming, and then several more before he realized that the scream hadn’t ceased-that it had been very real.
Edward pulled himself up so that he was sitting with his back resting against the headboard of the bed. A terrifying rush of guilt swamped his senses as he wondered what on earth he had done. His manhood was throbbing painfully beneath his breeches, but it was Daphne lying next to him, whimpering, that held Edward’s full attention.
“Daphne, I didn’t mean-” he began, but he wasn’t exactly sure what he was apologizing for; he wasn’t exactly sure what he’d done to her. A guilty heat burned through Edward’s flesh when he thought about what he wanted to do to her though… “Daphne?” he reached out and touched her, surprised, but relieved, when she didn’t immediately pull away.
“I didn’t mean to! I’m sorry! Please don’t go!”
“Daphne?” Edward frowned. He caught her gently but firmly by the shoulders and twisted her back to face him. Her eyes were clamped shut and she was shaking her head, muttering frantically under her breath. Edward felt awful because of the fact, but his first reaction was one of relief. Daphne was having another nightmare. She hadn’t been screaming because of him.
Edward’s relief was short lived. His wife was clearly in a state of some considerable distress. He shook her lightly, trying to wake her, but to no avail. He couldn’t rouse her. The worry and panic flooding his veins at least took the edge of his rampant need. He lay down behind her and curled his arms around her body.
“Daphne?” he murmured her name again, stroking his fingers through her hair. “Daphne, it’s all right. I’m here,” he whispered, amazed as the subtle trembling of her body slowly eased as he continued to talk to her.
Eventually Daphne relaxed completely, and her breathing took on the deep, steady rhythm of peaceful slumber. Edward couldn’t let himself sleep too deeply; he didn’t trust himself for a start, but it was more than that.
He needed to watch over his wife.
Chapter 10
When Daphne woke it was to a strange feeling of disorientation; everything looked a little back to front. She yawned and stretched, and jumped, when her leg knocked against… someone else’s leg? With a sharp gasp, Daphne twisted around, and found herself face to face with Edward. His pale green eyes were open, and they were staring quite calmly into the smoky grey depths of her own eyes.
“Lord Coventry!” Daphne choked. She watched Edward’s mouth twitch.
“You needn’t sound quite so surprised to find me here,” he chuckled. “This is my bedroom after all.”
“It is?” Daphne squeaked, searching her memories for an answer to the question of why she was waking up in the Earl’s chamber-in the Earl’s bed no less. She rubbed her eyes and struggled to remember what had happened the previous night.
“You had a rough night,” Edward yawned, as if he’d read her thoughts, which was really rather disconcerting, and his voice was husky with something that Daphne was afraid to believe might be concern. “I found you downstairs playing the piano in the dark, so I brought you back here to keep an eye on you.”
“Oh,” Daphne mumbled, her features flushed with embarrassment. What must Edward think of her? That she was slightly unhinged no doubt! It was hard to keep her mind on that upsetting notion however, with Edward sprawled out on the mattress beside her.
He seemed to be wearing his clothes from the day before-well, some of his clothes, not very many of his clothes to be honest. His shirt was all that Daphne could see, and that was gaping at the neck, revealing a generous portion of muscular chest. Daphne had never seen a man’s chest before, and she couldn’t help but stare at what was on view. There was a hot prickly kind of appreciative heat swirling in the pit of her stomach as she drank in the sight.
Edward cleared his throat softly, and Daphne’s eyes flew back to his face. Her cheeks burned at the knowing smile that quirked one corner of his mouth, but then he suddenly turned serious, and Daphne was suddenly afraid of what he might be going to say, so she spoke first.
“It won’t happen again!” she blurted.
Edward blinked at her. Slowly. And Daphne really wanted to crawl under a rock, or into a hole, or disappear and hide anywhere really, just so that she wouldn’t have to keep looking into her husband’s face as he stared at her as though she was completely and absolutely certifiably insane.
“The piano playing,” Daphne mumbled, wishing that the ground would open up and swallow her (and also that she was wearing one of her nicer nightdresses). “I didn’t mean to bother you.”
“I didn’t say that I was bothered,” Edward said evenly.
“No, but-”
“How long have you been having trouble sleeping, Daphne?” Edward asked bluntly.
Daphne looked away from his face and twisted her fingers in the sheets. It had been years really sinc
e she’d had a good night’s sleep, nothing seemed to help. She had tried all of the different remedies that she could think of, and many more that had been recommended to her, but nothing had ever made the nightmares go away for good.
“I suppose it started after father died,” Daphne confessed in a small voice. She made a move to slip out of the bed, but Edward suddenly reached for her. He caught hold of her wrist and held her still.
“My mother said that happened four years ago, Daphne!”
“Three and a half,” she mumbled. “It’s not every single night,” she muttered quietly, looking down at the bed sheets again. She pulled her hand free and then got to her feet, staring embarrassedly at the floor as she crossed her arms in front of her body. “I should go and get dressed,” she whispered, backing towards the door that separated their rooms. “I-thank you,” she blurted quickly, and then she was gone.
The day past in a flurry of activity, which seemed largely to pertain of Daphne avoiding Edward at every given opportunity. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to say to her exactly, but he knew that they needed to talk. However, Daphne had vanished to visit friends that morning, and he’d had business meetings all afternoon, by the time that he had finished, Edward was informed that Lady Coventry had retired to her room to prepare for the evening’s ball.
Edward didn’t imagine that they were going to have the luxury of a moment alone all night, apart from the carriage ride to and from the Butterworth’s! …and then Edward began to worry over when he had started considering Daphne’s company a ‘luxury.’
He was in his study-or William’s study? Edward was having a hard time thinking of the house as his own-nursing a glass of whiskey (to fortify him for the trials of the evening ahead; Edward wasn’t looking forward to his reintroduction into London society) when there was a soft knock on the door. Edward downed the rest of the glass in one swig, and called for the person to enter.
Wilkins pushed opened the door. “I believe that Lady Coventry is ready now, my lord. Should I order the carriage?”
Edward gave a curt nod. “Thank you, Wilkins.” He still couldn’t bring himself to like the butler.
Edward picked up his gloves from off the desk, and went in search of Daphne. He didn’t have to search far; his wife was standing in the front hall waiting for him, but her eyes were on the grandfather clock by the wall, so Edward had a moment to appraise her full figure before Daphne realized that she had an audience.
Edward was actually glad that he was afforded a moment to gather his thoughts, because the sight of Daphne had taken his breath away. She was a vision, clad in a ball gown of the palest apricot, which fitted her figure to perfection. When she sensed his presence and turned, Edward felt his body tighten.
He was wound like a spring as it was, and the low neckline of Daphne’s dress left comparatively little to the imagination. Imagined images from his dream of the night before flared to vivid life in Edward’s mind-and as beautiful as Daphne looked in that dress, his need to have her out of it was suddenly almost overwhelming.
He was never going to last the night.
“Is something wrong?” Daphne frowned.
Edward managed to wrench his gaze away from her-up. He cleared his throat uncomfortably. He had to regain control here! He let his eyes rest on her face for a moment, and then on the fancy Grecian style in which she was wearing her hair.
“You look amazing, Daphne,” he breathed, because it was true, and because he wanted to make her smile… to Edward’s disappointment, the latter he seemed not to achieve.
Daphne blushed, far too fetchingly for her husband’s peace of mind, but then she simply took her cloak off a waiting maid and seemed to edge towards the door, and Edward’s frustration was piqued.
“Although,” he said slowly, coolly, watching the way that Daphne tensed. He could still affect her then. Good. “In future you will see to it that your gowns are made with a more-” Edward paused to fully emphasize his next words “-modest neckline.”
Daphne gasped, which only accentuated the offending (so to speak) aspect of her dress. “How dare you!” she snapped. “I’ll have you know that the fashion in London, which you know nothing about having been absent from for so many years, dictates that a woman-!”
“Daphne,” Edward said, smoothly interrupting his wife’s little tirade (which the servants were watching open mouthed, Wilkins was probably getting ready to leap to his mistress’s defense as they spoke). “I don’t give a damn what the fashion in London dictates, I’m your husband and-”
“And dictator?” Daphne hissed acerbically.
Edward flashed her his most charming, insincere smile. “If you like.”
“Lord Coventry I-!”
“Don’t start that nonsense,” Edward said crisply. “God, woman! You’re my wife, is it a crime to-” but he stopped himself short.
When had the mere thought of other men looking at his wife started to rile him so much? He’d left her for six years without a chaperon, any man could have… Edward didn’t want to believe that the hot writhing ball in the pit of his stomach was jealousy, but that was definitely what it felt like.
“Is it a crime to what?” Daphne taunted, and then seemed to add for good measure. “My Lord?”
A muscle twitched in Edward’s cheek. He was damned if he was going to try being nice to her again! “Wilkins?” he barked. “The carriage, is it ready?”
“Yes, my lord, it should be just-” but Edward didn’t let the butler finish. He caught hold of Daphne by the arm and marched her out the front door.
“Edward!” Daphne squealed, having to practically run down the steps in front of the house to keep up with her husband’s long stride. “Stop this!” she scolded. “What has gotten into you?” she demanded hotly, looking up into his face as though she didn’t even know who he was. She didn’t know who he was on so many levels, Edward suspected.
Whatever girlish fantasies Daphne had held about him, when she plucked him off the shelf and decided that he was the man who’d make her the ideal husband, she had quite obviously miscalculated.
“Get in,” he snapped curtly, practically throwing her inside the carriage. He followed after her, slamming the door violently.
“Who do you think you are?” Daphne exploded once they were alone.
“Don’t tempt me, Daphne,” Edward growled, shooting her a look that silenced her indignant spluttering. “I’m trying very hard to keep my temper.”
“This is you keeping your temper?” Daphne gaped incredulously.
There was something in the way she said it that almost made Edward grin, but then he reminded himself that he was furious. When he reminded himself of why he was furious, however, he felt a little stupid.
“You’ll forgive me for saying so, my lord, but you don’t seem to be managing very well,” Daphne mused, and there was something so darling in her puzzled tone that Edward started to laugh. Daphne stared at him in mild alarm. “Lord Coventry?”
“You really should call me Edward you know,” he corrected her, still smiling, and unable to blame Daphne for the charming look of confusion that was etched upon her face.
“Oh-but not in public, or-or outside the house!” she said quickly.
Edward raised an eyebrow. “And why might that be, Daphne?” he drawled slowly.
“Well because-” Daphne began, but then paused, Edward loved that she had to pause and gather her thoughts. “Because it’s rather-familiar,” she struggled on valiantly, which caused Edward’s smile to take on a very masculine edge.
“And we aren’t familiar?” he said aloud, watching the flush that colored Daphne’s cheeks. “Perhaps not yet, perhaps not as familiar I would like us to be,” he breathed huskily, his voice heavy with innuendo. Daphne gasped, and the catch in her breath throbbed immediately in Edward’s groin.
He moved suddenly, changing seats so that instead of sitting opposite his wife he was beside her. Daphne’s silvery eyes widened and her breath took on a shaky qu
ality as she responded to his nearness. He caught her gloved hand in his own, and leant ever closer.
“What would you say if I told you I was going to make you my wife tonight?” Edward whispered against the shell of Daphne’s ear.
“I-I don’t know exactly what you mean,” Daphne confessed, but her voice was breathless, and when he pulled back to look into her eyes once again Edward recognized the desire swirling in their depths.
Perhaps Daphne didn’t recognize it, perhaps she didn’t understand the clenching need that was gathering in her womb, but Edward could see that it was there, and his body yearned to be the one to finally sate her desire.
“Daphne,” he sighed, body aching with longing as she drifted towards him, mouth slightly parted and eyes searching. Edward felt the whisper of her breath on his lips and then-and then the carriage rolled to a stop and she started away from him.
“I’m sorry!” she gasped. “I shouldn’t have-”
“You should have,” Edward growled, annoyed only that their ride, and what had promised to be a very interesting little interlude, had come to such an unsatisfactory end. Daphne blushed and looked down at her lap.
“Everyone is going to want to meet you,” she murmured, a little reverently, just as the footman opened up the door.
“Are you going to be all right?” Edward asked suddenly. His wife looked surprised by the question.
“Of course,” she murmured, accepting Edward’s arm as he helped her down from the carriage. He walked her to the door, feeling what he could only think to label as pride, as he once again appraised the elegant figure of the woman by his side.
Chapter 11
Daphne had been dreading the Butterworth’s ball all day, in fact, she had been dreading it ever since Edward had accepted Mrs. Butterworth’s invitation. So she couldn’t quite understand why she was walking up the steps to the Butterworth’s house with a smile on her lips, a lightness in her heart, and a nervous kind of excitement coiling in the pit of her stomach.
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