A Kiss to Remember

by Rebecca Minto

  “You love him,” Annalise whispered.

  Pale, shaking, Daphne stared at her.

  “I can see it,” Annalise murmured. “Oh, Daphne…”

  “Don’t you ever, ever tell him!” Daphne shouted. “If you ever say a word to him, I swear I shall kill you.”

  “Would I?”

  Daphne collapsed to her knees. She shook her head. Anna would never betray a trust. Never.

  “He can never know,” Daphne whispered.

  “Daphne, he’ll take one look at you and know,” Annalise muttered feelingly.

  “I will try harder. I will find a way. I will run away if I must…”

  “Well, you’d better hurry. He should be here in two weeks time.”

  Grasping her resolve like an anchor, Daphne managed to rise to her feet. She stumbled to the settee, collapsing in a heap. A fat heap, she thought to herself. James thought she was stupid, fat, ugly, useless…

  As she said the words to herself, her will strengthened tenfold. It was easier to force the icy calm over her as she thought those terrible words. So she repeated them. Again and again.

  “I’ve heard that before,” she muttered.

  “Well, he means them this time. He’s afraid of what I will tell you,” Anna warned.

  “Is he coming alone?” Daphne inquired.

  “Think you he would actually bring his leman here? Right under your nose?”

  Daphne strode to the door. “I would put nothing, absolutely nothing, past that man anymore. Please excuse me, dearest Anna. I…need privacy.”

  Annalise sighed after her. Oh, James had made a muck of it this time, she thought furiously. That he would even consort with that foul woman was beyond loathsome.

  Tilting her head thoughtfully, she brightened somewhat. Oh, she couldn’t wait until Daphne got her hands on him. A woman in love was capable of a great deal many things. It was a spectacle she did not intend to miss.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  “Anna told me I would find you here.”

  Daphne’s frozen fingers stiffened on the balustrade. She had taken to spending her mornings on her balcony, staring out across hills and gardens and bush. Staring at nothing. It was one of the few places she could find solitude. Annalise had been a constant shadow, trailing after her full of concern and suggestions on what they could do to make James pay for his misdeeds. Then there was Mrs. Tibbs and Janice, chasing her, asking for her pleasure. All but begging her to give orders.

  Sighing in resignation that her small amount of time was over, she turned slowly to face Chrysanthe. Her friend looked like an irritated fairy with her hair unbound and wild, her nose wrinkled, her eyes sparkling with what could only be termed as mischief.

  “I did not know you had arrived, Chrys,” Daphne greeted her with cool aplomb.

  “Hmm.” She held up an unopened bottle of an amber colored drink. “Care for a dip?”

  Daphne shrugged. “I suppose you would like to go someplace more appropriate?”

  Chrysanthe slid her bottom down to the wet balcony, leaning back comfortably against the railing. “No place like the present. C’mon Daph, I filched it from your old man’s study. His best scotch imported from the Highlands.”

  Daphne felt her lips curl in a small smile. It was so easy to lower herself to the balcony floor, although highly uncomfortable. The recent rains had left the air chill and the balcony damp. Still, it was oddly freeing to do something so improper and not to be chastised.

  Comfortably, she stretched her legs in front of her, crossing her ankles. She closed her eyes and relished the bite of a bitter wind as it slashed across her cheeks.

  Chrys happily uncorked the bottle and lifted it to her lips for a quick swig. Wiping her mouth, she handed it across to Daphne. She held it for a few minutes, recalling happier times when Chrysanthe would sneak off with a bottle of her mother’s best wine, or a decanter of the sherry her father saved for important guests. The three of them would hide out, passing the bottle back and forth.

  It had been foolish, utterly irresponsible, as Annalise would remind them around her hiccups. It had been wonderful to sit together and get sotted over a forbidden drink as they would talk and laugh together for hours.

  Shaking her head, Daphne raised the heavy bottle up to her lips. It was so heavy, she had to use both hands. The fiery liquid burned her mouth, pungent and ripe. Her eyes watered as she gulped it down. Chrys took it back and took her sip. The next was not quite so difficult for Daphne. She merely gasped this time.

  “So…”

  Daphne raised a brow. “So…” she repeated softly.

  Nothing for it but to jump right in, Chrysanthe decided. “I hear tell that you have softened in your attitude towards your husband.”

  Daphne sighed. So like Chrys to be blunt to a fault. “I have fallen utterly and completely in love with the beast,” she said honestly. “Annalise sent for you.”

  She didn’t even think to deny it. “She said you were overset at the news she brought.”

  That was the understatement of the decade, Daphne mused. “You did not have to come all this way, Chrys. I am a grown woman now.”

  “It wasn’t like I wasn’t planning to come visit, in any case,” Chrys huffed. “Besides, you need your friends now.”

  “I am trying to be mature about this,” she confided weakly.

  Chrysanthe shrugged matter-of-factly. “That doesn’t mean you can’t be mature and still not talk to your friends.”

  Daphne took a swill and handed the bottle back. “I am certain your mother is disappointed that you decided to leave town so soon.”

  Chrys snorted. “Mama was incensed that I didn’t come as soon as he…” She trailed off, uncertain as to just how blunt she could be at such a time.

  “As soon as my husband openly paid court to another woman? Come, Chrys, you came here to discuss this matter. Do not be shy.”

  “Very well then, yes, when he began to carry on with Miss Saint James,” Chrysanthe said. “Mama was all for me paying you a visit.”

  “I am certain the gossip mongers are making a field day with this,” Daphne sighed.

  “Actually, the Duke is taking the brunt of this one. You are the pitiable, abandoned wife.”

  “I would rather be ostracized,” Daphne pouted.

  “Anna says you don’t have a good plan yet,” Chrys hinted.

  “Forgive me, but I cannot see how putting itching powder in all his stockings would help matters,” Daphne objected wryly.

  Chrys shook her head, amused. “Ah, she has a long way to come. Itching powder must be placed in his breeches and drawers, not his stockings.”

  Daphne hiccupped around a laugh. “Oh, Chrys!”

  Chrysanthe tilted her head to the side. “What’s it like?”

  “What’s what like? Itching powder?”

  “Love.”

  Daphne smiled dreamily. “It can be wonderful. With James, I grow breathless and excited whenever I see him. We used to spend time talking and, oh, it was wonderful, just to have that confidant. I could tell him things I never thought to tell another. And when he kisses me…”

  “Yes?” Chrys wondered breathlessly.

  Daphne sighed, her eyes softening. “It is like we are one; his breath and mine together. All I am capable is feeling. It swamps me, this wave of emotion.”

  “Are you certain it isn’t mere lust?”

  Daphne choked. “Lust would not have me worrying about him, would it?”

  “True. You have mated.”

  “Chrys!” Daphne blushed furiously.

  “Have you?”

  Daphne chugged at the scotch. “Frequently,” she admitted.

  “Are you with child yet?”

  “Not yet,” Daphne admitted
sadly.

  “Well, that’s something, at least.”

  “W-what?”

  Chrysanthe gave her a knowing look. “You wouldn’t want to bind him by your side so soon with the excuse of a child. I thought better of you, Daph.”

  She shook her head vehemently. “It is not like that at all, Chrys. I thought… I thought that if I had his child to love, I might be able to overlook the rest. If I had that little piece of him inside me…”

  “Oh, please, Daph! A child would not be part of your Duke. It would be its own person, to grow into an adult all his own. You don’t want him devoted to you because of what your mating wrought forth, Daph. You want him bound to you because he wants to be.”

  Daphne buried her face in her hands and began to weep. “He doesn’t want me, Chrys, not at all! It is awful. It hurts. I never thought anything could hurt so bad.”

  Chrysanthe sipped thoughtfully, listening intently.

  Daphne beat at her breast. “It hurts here, as if something has been ripped out. Sometimes I think I could die from the pain of it alone. It is terrible. I wish I had never married him! I wish…”

  “You didn’t love him?” Chrysanthe supplied.

  Daphne furiously wiped her tears aside. “Of course I do not feel that way! Loving him is the greatest pleasure of my life.”

  “It is difficult to understand, Daph. You say all this drivel about love like it’s a good thing. It sounds like agony.”

  “It is. I love him so much it hurts. I need him. Love does hurt, Chrys, but it feels so good at the same time. It is as though my entire life had begun to make sense and have meaning.”

  “Then the scoundrel had to go and ruin that.” This was the part Chrys understood.

  “Yes! All I can see is him with some skinny, tall beauty who isn’t fat or stupid, who would not panic for having to arrange a single meal or…or…”

  “Don’t focus on her. She’s a trifle, really. It isn’t you, your Duke and her; it is you and your Duke.”

  “But he wants her,” Daphne cried.

  Actually, Chrysanthe was not quite convinced of that. She shook her head sadly. If she said any of her own opinions aloud, and they proved to be wrong, it would be the purest form of hell for Daphne.

  “Just don’t think about her. Although I personally believe you would be better suited to forgetting him and finding someone else to love—”

  “Never!” Daphne gasped.

  Chrys smiled smugly. “Then might I suggest you think of some way to brand him as yours.”

  Brand him? Daphne’s eyes fluttered at the thrilling memory. Could she do such a thing?

  “Daphne, love fights,” Chrys told her passionately. “It doesn’t sit down and take the abuse, it fights for what it wants. If you want James, you have to fight for him. It is that simple.”

  “But how can I do that?”

  Chrysanthe stood up unsteadily. She frowned at the bottle. They had finished every last drop. Shrugging, she tossed it aside.

  “Easy. Find the one thing he likes best of all, and use it against him. If he loves to eat, drown him with succulent treats until he is unwilling to ever leave your side again. Now,” she added grimly, “if you don’t mind, my bottom is nigh frozen through.”

  Daphne stayed out there a very long time, thinking over the plan. Could it truly be so simple? Could she brand him as irrevocably as he had branded her? Would she dare to do such a thing?

  She closed her eyes and pictured her husband’s precious face. The harsh lines, the way his eyes warmed when he smiled. She thought of how he made her feel, how she woke up weeping for just the heat of his body pressed against hers.

  He was certainly a man worth fighting for.

  * * * *

  The first thing James did as soon as he strode into the glittering entrance of his home was to look for his wife.

  “Where’s Daphne?”

  “Welcome home, Your Grace,” the nervous footman greeted his lord.

  “Where is Daphne?”

  “Welcome home, Your Grace,” Mrs. Tibbs said warmly, hurriedly coming down the stairs. “Your wife fancied a walk this afternoon. You must be exhausted. Such a tedious journey…”

  He growled low in the back of his throat. It had been a long and exhausting trip, made more so by the fact that he hadn’t slept a full night in months. He ran his fingers through his damp hair in agitation.

  He was soaked through. Storms had beset him from all sides until there was no outdistancing them, no matter how hard he pushed his stallion. He was wet and tired and sore. All he wanted was a bath and his wife’s warm body to cheer him up.

  What kind of female sought to stroll in a raging storm? Grimly, he shrugged out of his jacket as he took the stairs two at a time. Surely by the time he had washed up, she would have the sense to return.

  By the time he finished his bath and was dressed in fresh, dry clothes, she still hadn’t returned. Comforting himself with the fact that none of his staff would ever permit her to come to harm, he decided to have a short nap. After all, he was tired. He would need his strength with what he wanted to do to her tonight. All night. Possibly all week.

  His body hungered for hers. Every moment he had been away, he had craved her as a starving man craved food. He had tried, he had put forth a genuine effort, to get past this madness. It lingered, no matter how hard he tried to forget her. So he had stayed away longer, certain that it would begin to ease off in time.

  He had come to the astonishing revelation, however, that it was never going to leave him. Every woman he looked upon, no matter how beautiful, paled in comparison to Daphne. Every single perfume was offending in comparison to the warm, sweet scent his wife preferred. He had even made the grave error of hiring a woman for a full night’s effort simply to kiss him. That had been a grave error on his part, he thought unhappily. The moment his lips had pressed to hers, he had started gagging.

  The only face he wanted to see was Daphne’s. The only scent that pleased him was hers. The only taste he could withstand was hers. He was utterly, completely crazed about Daphne. He had fought against it, and fought hard until he had come to the remarkable revelation that he did not mind it so much. If he was a madman, then so be it. It did not matter all that much, truly, did it, if he was obsessed with his wife?

  Given, such behavior was unheard of. A man did not want his wife the way James wanted Daphne. It simply was not done. Then again, James had never cared overmuch about what was said about him. He had his own agendas to see to. As for Daphne…

  He smiled as he thought of the irritable look which crossed her face when she had asked him if he entertained all that much. Aye, she would happily spend the rest of her life here, he thought. He decided that they could live here together, quite happily. He decided he did not mind being obsessed with his mere slip of a wife.

  Aye, he thought happily as sleep overtook him, he was looking forward to taking her into his arms.

  Yet, when he awakened, feeling refreshed and in a much better spirits, still he had this little niggling doubt. It redoubled tenfold when he marched through their adjoining doors to find her room empty. When he found Mrs. Tibbs, the woman kindly informed him that his wife was busy with her duties.

  Duties? Daphne didn’t have any duties, as far as he was concerned. Well, there was one, he amended thoughtfully. It was her duty to please her husband. Shrugging the concern aside, he decided that, since she was herself quite busy, he could spend a few hours working in his study. He vowed he would not lose track of time.

  And so it went.

  When James next asked after her, her grace was napping. When he returned two hours later, she was in her bath. He was growing more worried by the moment. All he wanted to do was see his wife, damn it all. That should not be an impossible task!

  It seemed that
his staff had ganged up on him, however. It lasted for three days. Three, long, interminable days passed before he would even catch a glimpse of his golden little butterfly.

  It was enough to drive a madman to the very brink of his sanity.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “Are you certain this is working?”

  Daphne knelt by the hearth in an old, forgotten room where she had taking to hiding out in the past three days since her husband had returned. She had even begun to take her meals here, and occasionally, sleeping in the small chamber. Chrysanthe thought it was hysterical. Annalise thought it a mark of Daphne’s intelligence.

  Obediently, Annalise pulled out the book she had been studying so thoroughly. “Yes, of course. It says here a man smitten will only grow fonder of the woman in question with absence.”

  “That does not make much sense,” Chrys argued placidly. “It seems to me a man would enjoy the object of his affections more if he spent more time with it.”

  Daphne nervously twined a curl around her forefinger. “I am not so certain of that. Perhaps that is why he left to begin with. We were spending almost every moment together.”

  Anna nodded triumphantly. “See, it is working. Mrs. Tibbs said James was in a rare state when he had to eat alone. Again.”

  Daphne hid a smile behind her hand. She had been amazed that the staff had gone along with her plans so well. When she explained that she wanted to teach her husband a lesson, Mrs. Tibbs had agreed wholeheartedly. Indeed, each and every single member of staff was helping out every way they could.

  “What did Mrs. Tibbs tell him Daphne was doing?” Chrysanthe wanted to know.

  “She said Daphne was entertaining last night. I dare say they will begin to run out of excuses soon.”

  “That is a worry,” Daphne agreed.

  “Well I, for one, find this plan inexcusably daft,” Chrysanthe announced drolly. “I hope I would never be so foolish to fall in love with such a scoundrel in the first place.”