One Wicked Winter

by Emma V. Leech

  “I promise,” he growled, and hauled her back into his arms.

  ***

  The dream crept up on him, stalking him in his sleep. At first it seemed innocuous enough, just memories of comrades and friends. Men laughing and joking, playing cards and drinking together, but then their laughter died, and the horror began. Those same men were displayed with glassy eyes and slack jaws - where those pieces of their bodies even remained to be seen. They were silent, though the cannon fire pounded all around him, shuddering the earth at his feet, ringing in his ears and sending down an obscene shower upon his head. Dirt and rocks and blood and things he did not want to identify, falling upon him, burying him under the weight of it, warm and wet and heavy and ...

  “Edward? Edward, you’re dreaming.” A soft voice penetrated the vile imagery, pulling him away from the monstrosity of it. “Wake up, love ... You’re safe now.”

  Oh God.

  He’d been screaming in his sleep. His chest was heaving, his skin clammy, and the images lingered. He pressed the palms of his hands to his eyes, willing them away, begging them to let him be, even though he knew they never would. Belle was talking to him, he could hear her voice soft and soothing, though it sounded a long way away. He clung to it. Realising he was shaking, he took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. He should never have stayed. What must she think of him now?

  Opening his eyes now, he expected to see pity in her expression and thought that he could not bear it if he did. But when he focused, finding her watching him, her golden hair haloed by the morning light, he found nothing but relief in her expression.

  “There you are,” she said on a sigh, smiling at him. She didn’t say anything more, but leaned down to kiss him.

  Oh, yes. Her lips were soft and her body so deliciously warm as he pulled her closer, forgetting the horror of the dream in the delight of finding her willing and pliant in his arms. Her hand moved over his chest and he caught it, urging it lower until it covered his aching skin.

  He watched her face, amused by the smile that appeared as she wrapped her hand around him.

  “So soft,” she said, sounding a little shy. Edward raised one eyebrow and she gave an unladylike snort. “I meant your skin,” she murmured, not looking the least bit embarrassed. He liked that, he decided, liked her honesty in all things.

  “Like this,” he said, showing her how to caress him. His breath caught as she took over, and he lay back again, closing his eyes, no longer afraid of what he might see if he did. He shivered, his eyes flicking open in surprise as the covers were stripped from him and his flesh prickled with the chill of cold air.

  “I want to see,” she said, a wicked glint in her eyes. Edward laughed, utterly charmed and rather pleased, and then stopped as he realised how strange it sounded. “Goodness, Edward,” she said, her voice full of wonder. “You really are very fine.”

  Edward stared at her, a strange and daunting sensation growing in his chest as he looked upon his wife, staring at him with such obvious admiration.

  She squealed as he moved suddenly, throwing her down on her back, desperate to be inside her. Belle laughed at his urgency, a joyous sound that lifted his heart as he sank into her, joining them together.

  “Oh, Edward,” she murmured against his skin, her voice full of amusement. “I’m so glad you stayed.”

  Chapter 23

  “Wherein our hero is planted a facer.”

  Belle was unsurprised that she did not see Edward again the next night. She made no effort to seek him out, sensing that it would serve her purpose better if he had the chance to miss her. This was how it would be, she realised. Three steps forward, two steps back. But that was alright, she could wait.

  She smiled to herself as she remembered their night together, wondering at herself and the way the man made her feel. Belle had never realised that desire was something women felt with such ... such urgency. That men suffered it and acted in rash and dangerous ways because of it seemed accepted, normal, even, but that her husband should make her feel so ... so ... wicked! She admitted to herself that she wanted nothing more than to hunt him down and tow him back to their room, and stay there. The thought made her blush, though she didn’t regret it in the least.

  “What on earth are you thinking about, Belle?” Crecy demanded, her eyes dancing with mischief. “You’ve gone positively scarlet.”

  Belle huffed and returned her attention to her book. “Mind your own business,” she muttered. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Crecy stick her tongue out at her, and laughed. “I’ll tell you when you’re married,” she added with a prim little sniff.

  Crecy snorted, but she thought her sister looked vaguely troubled by the remark, so she put her book down.

  “What is it?” she asked, as Crecy returned an innocent expression that Belle well knew not to trust.

  “What’s what?” she asked with a sunny smile. “You know, I think it’s such a lovely day, I shall go for a ride this afternoon.”

  “Again?” Belle demanded and narrowed her eyes at her. She’d hardly seen her sister since they returned from Bath, as she was forever out riding. Belle supposed she was pleased at that. Crecy needed to be outside and ridding herself of the restless energy that would sink her into the doldrums if she was kept indoors too long. She had longed to ride when they were with Aunt Grimble, as a way to escape, but they couldn’t afford such extravagance. It was only right she should indulge her passion now. “Well, wrap up warm. It may look sunny, but it’s freezing still, and don’t get lost, and ...”

  “Take a groom!” Crecy finished for her with a tut, giving Belle a disparaging look. “It was only that one time, Belle. I’ve ridden miles and miles now. I know the place rather well, I think.”

  “Hmmm.” Belle couldn’t shake the feeling she was hiding something but if she stayed on the estate and took a groom to keep her safe, there didn’t ought to be any harm.

  Returning her attention to her book, she looked up, as there was a faint scratching sound at the door.

  Garrett entered at her invitation and passed her a folded slip of paper. “From Mr Davis,” he said in an undertone. Belle wondered if she was imagining the twinkle in the man’s eyes as he handed the paper over. She rather thought not and smiled at him.

  “Thank you, Mr Garrett.”

  “What is it, Belle?” Crecy asked, though she had buried her nose in her book, absently twining the long black ribbon she used as a marker round and round her fingers. Belle had the feeling she wasn’t really seeing the words on the page at all.

  “Nothing,” Belle replied, deciding this was her own secret. “But I think I’ll stretch my legs a bit - indoors,” she added as Crecy looked up. “Enjoy your ride, won’t you?”

  “I will, Crecy murmured, though now she was staring out of the window, a faraway look in her eyes as she held the slip of ribbon to her lips. Belle frowned a moment, wishing she knew what it was Crecy was thinking of. But the opportunity to see Edward sparring again was too big a temptation. Closing the door on her mysterious sister, she headed once more for the ballroom.

  It was quieter this time, as Charlie wasn’t shouting instructions, but was also stripped to the waist and standing up with Edward.

  Belle blinked, at first thinking that poor Charlie would be murdered as her husband was so much taller and broader than the wiry little valet. It soon became clear, however, that no heavy blows were being exchanged; it was more an exercise in skill.

  Even to her untrained eye she could see that Charlie was very fast and often managed to land a blow because he was constantly on the move, and ... and Edward was dropping his guard.

  “Come on Eddie,” Charlie taunted. “What’s up wiv ye? I dunno where ye head’s at, but it ain’t ‘ere!”

  Privately, Belle thought Charlie was right. The single-minded focus that had been evident all the other times she’d watched him seemed lacking today, and she winced as Charlie landed a nifty blow to Edward’s jaw. They might only be playing a
t it, but she’d heard his fist hitting flesh, and she didn’t think it was as light a blow as she’d first imagined.

  Edward grunted with annoyance and Charlie danced back out of the way of a right hook that would have sent him sprawling. Moving forward again, she watched as Charlie repeated his move as Edward once again dropped his guard.

  “Keep your guard up!” she yelled, which, in hindsight, perhaps hadn’t been her best move. Edward was so surprised that he looked around and Charlie caught him on the right temple, knocking him out cold.

  “Edward!” she cried in horror as her husband crashed to the ground. “Oh, my word!”

  She sank to the floor, kneeling beside him and wishing she was the swooning type who always carried smelling salts. Instead, she chaffed at his hands and patted his face. “Edward, wake up! Oh, do wake up.” Terror that perhaps he was seriously hurt began to build in her chest, a cold sickening feeling that made tears prickle behind her eyes. So, when Edward did wake, with a groan and a rather vivid obscenity, she could only exclaim with delight.

  “Oh, Edward!” She held his hand to her face and kissed his fingers as he glared at her in fury.

  “You, madam, are a .... a ...”

  “A blessed nuisance?” she offered, blinking away tears of relief and looking in chagrin at the lump forming on his head.

  For a moment, he just stared at her, and she waited for him to go off in a towering rage.

  “Keep your guard up?” he demanded, scowling at her. “Where the devil did you hear that?”

  Belle swallowed and wondered what kind of trimming she was in for this time. “I-I didn’t hear it, Edward, I ... I read it.”

  “You ... what?”

  He looked rather endearing when he was flummoxed, she decided, and then realised that she was still holding his hand and he hadn’t yet objected. “I read it, Edward. In a book. About pugilism,” she added, in case that hadn’t been clear.

  Edward blinked at her. “Where the devil did you get such a thing?”

  “Oh,” she said, smiling at him. “I bought it in Bath. But don’t worry, I said it was for you.”

  Edward opened and closed his mouth again, looking a little nonplussed. He sat up and clutched his head with a groan, and then looked at his other hand, which she was still holding between hers, clasped in her lap.

  “I’m dreadfully sorry,” she said, hoping his anger was fading. “That was entirely my fault for distracting you.”

  “Yes,” he grumbled, his dark brows drawn together in a rather sulky frown. “It was.”

  She lifted his hand to her lips and kissed his fingers. “Well, I was well-served,” she admitted with a rueful smile, keeping his hand against her cheek. “I was never more frightened than when I saw you go down. I think my heart stopped.”

  His eyes lifted to hers at that, and she couldn’t quite read the expression there, but he wasn’t angry.

  He made a sound half way between indignation and amusement. “Take more than a swing from Charlie to finish me off,” he muttered, sounding rather miffed. “Where is the devil, anyway?” he demanded, looking around.

  “Oh.” Belle looked around and realised that Charlie had been thoughtful enough to make himself scarce. She decided she really did like Charlie immensely. “He must have gone to ... fetch help?” she suggested, with a lift of one eyebrow. Though surely, they both knew that wasn’t true.

  “Escaping my wrath, more like,” he said in an undertone, though frankly, Belle didn’t think that was the reason at all, though she kept it to herself.

  “You’re going to have the most dreadful bruise,” she observed, reaching out a hand to touch his face. Edward winced and she drew back.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

  “You said that already,” he said, sounding grouchy and staring at her with a strangely uncertain expression in his eyes. “Shouldn’t you ...” He paused and looked vaguely uncomfortable and she waited, intrigued, for him to continue.

  “Shouldn’t I ... “ she prompted as he failed to say anything else.

  “I don’t know,” he said with a huff, sounding a little irritable. “Kiss it better, or something. Isn’t that a wifely duty?”

  “Oh!” Belle bit her lip to stop the grin spreading over her lips. “Oh, certainly, yes. It is,” she replied, struggling to keep her voice serious. She shifted a little closer to him, heedless of her lovely skirts on the dusty ballroom floor, and leaned in. Belle pressed her lips a little to the side of the growing bruise so as not to hurt him. “There,” she said, quite unable to keep the smile from either her face or her voice any longer. “All better?”

  He shook his head.

  “No? Oh dear,” she said, with mock horror. “Where else?”

  He pointed to the line of his jaw.

  “Here?” she murmured against his skin, feeling the bristle of stubble beneath her lips as she trailed kisses along his jaw and down his neck, following the path he was drawing with his finger. “Oh dear, Charlie is quite a brute,” she murmured as he leaned his head back to allow her to continue. His breathing was coming faster now as his finger crossed a path over his chest to one nipple. She smiled as she ducked her head lower and her mouth closed over him, feeling the skin pebble beneath her tongue. He hauled in a breath and she felt suddenly powerful, to have this big, obstinate, difficult man, almost purring like a cat beneath her touch. “Here too?” she asked, gazing up at eyes so dark they looked almost black as she turned her attention to the other nipple. She treated it to the same delicate attention and wondered where he would guide her next. “I really think you must be bruised all over,” she murmured, holding his gaze.

  “Oh God,” he groaned, reaching down and pulling her head back up, taking her mouth, hard and urgent. He let her go, his breathing harsh and loud in her ears. “I want you in my bed, now. Right. Now.” he demanded, hauling her to her feet.

  They were laughing as he towed her behind him and back out to the hallway, grinding to a halt as they stumbled towards the grand staircase - just as Lady Russell and company walked through the front door.

  Lady Russell, Lady Sinclair, Aubrey and Garrett all stood gaping at them and Belle had to cover her mouth with her hand to stop herself from giggling. Her cheeks were flaming and Edward was half dressed and bruised and towing her behind him like a caveman with his kill ... heaven alone knew what they were thinking. Though she suspected they were spot on.

  “Er ... Good afternoon,” Edward said, with remarkable dignity for a man in such a state of undress. Belle wondered if marquesses were trained to act with dignity under any and all circumstances, and if such situations were covered in some kind of handbook, and then had to pretend to cough as a bubble of laughter broke free.

  “I say, why don’t we have tea in the parlour,” Aubrey said, his voice rather louder than usual.

  “A good idea, sir,” Garrett chipped in, guiding Lady Sinclair, who was staring with open-mouthed admiration at Edward, firmly into the parlour. Even Lady Russell took a good and thorough look.

  The door closed behind them and Belle could stand it no more and erupted into laughter. “Oh, oh,” she cried, clutching at her sides. “Poor Garrett, he didn’t know what to do with himself.” She came up short as she noticed Edward staring at her.

  “I was right about you,” he said, looking rather grim. “You’re a hoyden.”

  For a moment Belle quailed, but then she saw the laughter lurking in his eyes.

  “You’re going to ruin my reputation, aren’t you? Rushing around Bath and buying unseemly books, and behaving like a ... a ... “

  “Hoyden,” she supplied, grinning at him. “You said that already.”

  “No. Worse,” he grumbled, moving closer to her. “Following me about the place and doing all you can to seduce me.” He moved closer still, his voice scratchy and rough in a way that made her blood heat. “You’re a wanton ...” he said against her lips. “Insatiable,” he added, nipping at her lower lip. “Wicked creature.”

&nbs
p; Belle sighed against his mouth. “I’m sorry, my lord. I can’t seem to help myself.”

  “Me either,” he growled, and swept her up, carrying her the rest of the way to his room, and kicking the door shut behind him.

  ***

  “We should dress for dinner.”

  Edward grunted. He didn’t want to move. Belle was snuggled up against him and it felt rather, well ... wonderful. It couldn’t last, of course, he knew that. Which was why he wanted to enjoy it now.

  “You still haven’t finished your wifely duties,” he said, tangling his fingers in the soft blonde curls that were tickling his chest. She looked up at that, amused enquiry in her eyes as she lifted one delicate blond brow.

  “I didn’t?” she exclaimed, apparently horrified by the idea. He bit back a smile. “How remiss of me. Now then, I got to here I think?” she murmured, planting a kiss over his heart. “But really, husband, I think I’ve kissed you better everywhere.”

  “Not ... everywhere,” he said, holding her gaze, challenging her and wondering just how brave she really was.

  “I ... Oh!” He gave her a wolfish grin. “Really?” she asked, sounding just a little doubtful.

  “Really,” he replied, laying back and folding his arms behind his head. He raised one eyebrow and she huffed at him.

  “I can’t believe you were injured there,” she objected, and Edward just smirked at her.

  “So? I never said I was.”

  “Well, alright then.”

  To his surprise, she whipped the covers away, and he shivered a little as he lay exposed to her gaze.

  “Where do I start?” she demanded, and Edward had to choke back a laugh.

  “Why don’t you start at the bottom, and work your way up,” he suggested, wondering how in the name of God he kept a straight face. It wasn’t a problem he had to worry about for long, as all of the breath left his lungs in a rush.

  “Oh God, Belle.”

  Edward tangled his fingers in her curls and felt like his sanity was leaving him as pleasure uncoiled beneath his skin. What his wife lacked in finesse, she certainly made up for in enthusiasm.