by Lavinia Kent
She made a noncommittal mumble.
Another kiss, just below her hairline. “I cannot change time, Bliss. I wish I had been your first kiss. I wish I had danced with you at your ball. Nothing would make me happier. I’ve done very little in my life that I regret, but I do regret that I did not understand at the Daremoors’ what I do now. I am sorry I was blind to what you were feeling, that I was too caught up in my own desires to see yours. I am sorry that I thought we had all the time in the world, when you felt that we had reached an ending. I am sorry that I was not there for you, that I did not understand that you needed me there. I am sorry I did not know all that I know now.”
Her whole body grew still, and then she turned to him. “And what is it that you know now, Stephan? What lesson have you learned that should make me forgive you?”
The words he would speak next were of utmost importance. He considered them with care. “I have learned that life is short. For some it takes a great tragedy to learn this. I have no such story, but it has been pressed into my heart all the same. Life is short. I do not want to miss things. I have already missed that kiss and that dance. I know you have mourned them for years, but my pain in realizing that I missed them is just as great. I want those memories, but I cannot have them. I refuse to spend time regretting that. I would rather look to the future, to the memories I want to make with you, Bliss. Memories like this night. Memories that I will treasure always. If something happened and I never saw you again, I would still have this. Do you understand? We can live in fear and regret or we can claim our future. I want to claim everything I can and hold on to it as tightly as I can. I will always treasure you, Bliss. Can you not trust me enough to take a chance?”
A soft sigh left her and her shoulders relaxed. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice trembling.
“Trust me. Trust us. I have never had a night as wonderful as this. It was a night of bliss, in more ways than one.”
A tiny giggle. That was progress.
“I am very glad that you told me. Now, do you think we can put it behind us?”
Bliss rolled over so that she could look up into his eyes. He could see the uncertainty lurking in her gaze. “I want to, but even if I do, what does that change?”
“Everything.” He filled his voice with confidence.
Her chest rose and fell, her eyes stayed locked on his. “Are you sure? It’s been so long since I trusted anyone but myself.”
“You can trust me, Bliss. I will not let you down. I will not leave you. You have already trusted me with your body. You knew that I would not do anything that you could not handle. You looked into my eyes and saw what I would do and you did not flinch. Did not ask to be released—and yet, you knew at even the smallest gesture I would stop, I would let you go. If you can trust me that far, can you not trust me a little further?”
She buried her face in his chest. “I just don’t know.”
He’d never seen her so tender, so vulnerable. Had he succeeded in tearing down her walls? “Bliss”—he placed a finger under her chin, raising her eyes to his—“will you marry me? I will not force you to feel things you don’t want to, but I want to start making those memories.”
She stared into him. He could feel her searching and could only hope that she found what she sought.
Her lips parted then closed. Her fingers grabbed his shoulder and she could feel them clench tight.
“Don’t be afraid, Bliss. Whatever you choose, I will understand.”
Her fingers relaxed slightly, but did not let go.
There was absolute silence between them for several moments.
He waited unsure of what would follow.
Again she parted her lips and then shut them.
He could feel the words she wanted to say and could not.
Finally she took a deep breath. “I am not a foolish child. I have reasons for feeling as I do, for feeling as I did.”
“I have never thought you were foolish, Bliss. And if I thought you were a child at seventeen, I certainly don’t now. You have explained your feelings to me and I understand them, even if I do not agree. You are too wonderful a woman to settle for less than you deserve and a comfortable marriage is less than you deserve. I want you, Bliss. I need you, Bliss. But if you do not think that I can make you happy then find someone who can. Do not choose someone just because they don’t make you tingle, don’t make you want more. Choose someone who will make life an adventure. You are too full of life to be ordinary.”
She pushed herself up on her elbows. “Sometimes I think you see me too well, Stephan. It can be a little scary.”
“I want only what is best for you, Bliss.”
She bit down on her lower lip, chewing slightly on the already swollen flesh. “I begin to believe you.”
“To trust me?”
“Perhaps.” She bit down hard, her teeth indenting the lush curve.
He could see the consideration in her gaze, feel the measurement of her words. “Do you really want what is best for me, want to make me happy?”
He reached out and stroked her lip, gentling the bite of her teeth. “Yes, always.”
She drew in a deep long breath, held it, released it slowly. “Then, yes, I will marry you, Stephan. I will.”
Chapter Twenty-four
Bliss opened one blurry eye and then the other. Her body ached. She could not remember ever feeling like this before. Her shoulders. Her breasts. Her thighs. Every piece of her made itself known. She opened the other eye and stared dimly up at herself in the mirror. The room was dark except for one sputtering candle—and she did not want to think about candles—but it was enough to see that she looked much the worse for wear. Her skin was pallid, with dark shadows beneath the barely open eyes. Her hair was a tangle, a witch’s broom, the curls a riot about her head. She looked like she’d had exactly the night she’d had.
A weight shifted in the bed beside her.
Oh God, what had she done?
With painful recollection all the events of the night flowed back to her.
She couldn’t have. She really couldn’t have.
But she had. She truly had.
Her stomach roiled.
She couldn’t even blame it all on too much drink. Not a single drop had passed her lips.
She glared down at her tender body, at all the evidence of their night of play. Memories of the night surrounded her, memories of ecstasy, memories of honesty. Of such honesty.
Her eyes snapped closed. Maybe she was still dreaming. She could not, would not have said yes. She protected herself and always had. Saying yes to Duldon would be foolishness. And yes, in the cold light of morning he was Duldon again. If only she hadn’t let herself think of him as Stephan during the long hours of the night. Stephan was the boy she had cared for so much and the young man she had trusted. Duldon was…
She couldn’t even think about what Duldon was.
And was it morning? What time?
Surely Duldon would have woken her in time to get home before the maids came with morning tea? She could only be glad that at this time of year there were no fires to be lit.
What time was it?
The room had no windows, no clue that the world outside even existed.
She took a peek at Duldon. He lay buried in the covers, only a small portion of his face peering out, and he was dead asleep. He looked as if a marching army wouldn’t wake him.
She’d really tired him out. Her mouth started to curl up in satisfaction, but she tamped it down. She would not take pride in the fact, she wouldn’t.
With some care she eased from the bed, worried of waking him. He grunted. He groaned. He muttered something that sounded far too much like her name as he grabbed a pillow and snuggled into it. And then with a snort, he settled back to sleep.
Her clothing still lay in the pile where she had left it. Donning it quickly, she rejoiced that she had thought to wear a simple gown that required no maid to help with the laces. The thought of wand
ering about Madame Rouge’s searching for help was beyond her.
Quickly she ran her fingers through her hair, doing her best to tuck and smooth the unruly strands. A few scattered pins mixed in with her clothing and she shoved them in slightly haphazardly. Placing the cloak about her shoulders, Bliss glanced about looking for the mask. Steph—Duldon’s clothing lay neatly folded on a side table. Why did that not surprise her? She hadn’t seen him do it, but things about him just always fell into place. The mask was not there.
Not wanting to waste any further time, she pulled the cloak’s hood up and carefully walked to the door, not wanting any squeak of board or heavy step to wake her sleeping prince.
No. No. No. Do not think of him that way. No.
Easing the door open she slid through, holding her breath for any sound from the bed. There were a few soft, endearing snores, but no other noise. Closing the door behind her, she lay her head against the cool dark wood and closed her eyes.
What would happen if she stayed? Would it really be so terrible?
Perhaps it was still the mid-hours of the night and she could have hours more with Stephan before needing to make any decision. If all she did was lie beside him and watch him sleep, it would be one more memory to treasure in the years to come. She shook herself. If that was what she wanted she should never have risen from the bed. If he realized that she’d left and come back the statement in that would be too strong.
She had to leave. She did.
Still she did not move.
Why couldn’t she marry him?
She’d said she would and she’d always tried to stand by her word. He would make the world a safe place for her. He had promised to. He had promised to never leave her and she’d never known him to lie. As the thought filled her mind, she could feel his soft arms wrap about her, feel his warmth, feel all that he would offer her. All she had to do was reach out and take.
Only she could not.
Fear might be the only thing holding her back. Silly, stupid fear. She recognized that now, but she was not strong enough to overcome that fear. For a few moments last night, Stephan might have broken a hole in her wall, but now that gap had been filled in.
A lifetime of worry could not be overcome in a single night, a single hour.
Tears rose in her eyes, but she held them back. Straightening her shoulders, she prepared to move.
Only she didn’t. It felt like glue held her to the door, held her to Stephan.
Blinking back the tears, she forced herself away, forced herself to turn, to take that first step—and then that second.
She had planned her life and Duldon was not part of it. Marriage was not part of it. Perhaps that was where she’d made her mistake. Why had she ever agreed to marry at all? Swanston might yell and scream. He might even cut her allowance or force her to stay at Risusgate until she was of age, but he could not leave her destitute, even if he wished to. She could sell that hated strand of pearls, pearl by pearl if necessary.
Another tear slid down her cheek. She reached up to brush it off, the hood sliding back to her shoulders. Her hand moved back to pull it back into place. At this moment she didn’t care who saw her, didn’t care who knew, but some deep-seated desire for self-preservation still survived. She would not do that to herself, to her family.
“Why am I not surprised to see you here again?” The voice curled about her, trapping her.
She turned her head—and stopped. Her heart stopped. Her lungs stopped. Every muscle within her just froze and refused to move.
Lord Temple.
She would have closed her eyes, denied the reality, but still she could not move even that much.
“Not going to speak, my Lady Blish? Whoever named you musht have planned it with me in mind,” he slurred, taking a step forward, a step nearer to her. Brandy fumes wafted from him, filling her senses.
She should say something, find some explanation—even if there was none—but she could not think, her emotions already emptied this evening.
“The fates must be smiling on me this evening. I was beginning to despair that my companion for the evening had not arrived. I was going to speak to Ruby about finding a replacement, but instead you magically appear.” He took another step, smiling.
She had dealt with enough drunken fools before that this should not be too difficult. Perhaps he would not even remember seeing her in the morning.
He tapped the crop he held against the shiny black leather of his boots.
A crop? Who carried a crop at this hour? And inside? Any gentleman dropped his crop by the door as he entered a house. And why was he all in black? Her eyes swept him. Even his shirt was black. His cravat too.
Before she could fully finish this thought, Lord Temple smiled more broadly, stepping far too close. His fingers wrapped about her wrist, biting tight.
She pulled back hard, yanking her arm, but he refused to give way.
And in that moment, fear began to fill her. He might be a drunken lout, but drunken louts could still pose danger. A moment ago she had been fighting disbelief and surprise at being caught, but now she knew the beginning of terror.
The look that filled Lord Temple’s eyes spoke of things she could not even begin to contemplate. It wandered over her, focusing again and again at the mounds of her breasts, thankfully still hidden beneath the heavy cloak.
“Let me go,” she hissed.
Temple stared at her and voiced no response.
“Let me go,” she repeated. “Let me go and no one will know of this.”
“I don’t thinksk you’ll tell anyone you were here.” Temple was still slurring, but otherwise seemed able.
She tried again to pull away. Temple held tight.
Stephan. She must get to Stephan. He would protect her from this, protect her from anything. Temple might be a only drunken fool, or he might be something more, but Stephan would take care of it. He would never let this happen to her.
He would never let this happen.
He would keep her safe.
Stephan.
But she had left Stephan, left all that he had promised her.
Pulling hard against Lord Temple’s hand, she tried to step back, to get through the door that a moment ago had represented escape and now represented haven. She had to get back, get back to Stephan.
Lord Temple’s other hand grabbed her other arm, and she found herself lifted and turned. She tried to kick out at the door, to pound against it, to wake her sleeping savior, but Lord Temple was too strong.
She struggled harder, trying to bite and scratch.
Scream. She should scream. Even here, surely a scream would be answered.
Even as the thought formed in her brain, a door clicked open behind her and she was shoved through. By the time the yell left her mouth she was firmly behind a closed and—she heard the click—locked door.
She let out one last scream, loud and shrill.
Temple’s hand landed across her mouth, the force of the gesture sending waves of pain through her head.
“Bite me and I’ll make you pay,” he said, pressing even harder.
God, he was not a drunken fool. He might be drunk, but this edge of cruelty must always have been lurking underneath. The alcohol only released what was already there.
She fought against him, even more determined to make her way free. Maybe the key was still in the lock. If she could just get out the door, and get to Stephan…
Her hands were jerked up suddenly and she found them caught high above her head, something cold and metal latching about her wrists. She tried to jerk against the bands, but found herself held tight from above, the feeling of heavy cold cuffs about her wrists.
Temple’s hand stayed firm about her mouth.
Calm. Be calm. It was clear that she could not struggle against him and whatever held her from above.
“I’ve alwaysh wanted to try these. I love the full access that they grant—and the control I have if I raise or lower the height.” Temple spo
ke into her ear, but his words seemed to fill the room. “I am going to remove my hand now, but if you scream again I will gag you. I don’t want to do that. I like mouths. You can do so many things with mouths.”
She was going to vomit, whether from fear or the not-fresh stench of Temple she was not sure. And things to do with mouths. She didn’t want to think of that here.
“I don’t know Duldon’s tastes, but if you scream I will assume that you want me to gag you, that you enjoy the feeling of having something between your lips.” He leered at her and licked his own lips, as if his meaning were not clear enough.
Enjoy that? Enjoy any of this? Still as he dropped his hand away she did not make a sound, only worked to moisten her lips and her dry mouth.
“There, that is a good girl. I knew you could be a good girl.” He smiled and stepped back and let his eyes run up and down, surveying her. He reached forward and with a twist of his fingers the cloak fell to the ground, leaving her only in the light dress and chemise. His focus dropped to her breasts, which were, and she hated to use the word, heaving. His mouth opened and closed, his tongue licking again, coating his mouth in shine.
“Please let me go. This is not how you want to behave. You know me. You know I am not this type of woman,” she tried to explain. Not that there was a “this” type of woman.
Temple’s eyes moved up to her face. “Never used to think you were. I thought you were the marrying type. Thought you’d be good for that. I even thought I might marry you. My mother said you had good hips for babies—although she thought you wild. I guess she was right.”
“No, she wasn’t. I am not wild at all.”
“Then why are you here? It’s not the first time. I saw you here before, with him, with Duldon. Everyone here knows what he likes.” Temple’s eyes glanced to the crop that he’d dropped along with her cloak. “If you can do that with him, then you can do it with me. I’ve always wanted to try, but the girls who will do it charge too much. I didn’t know ladies did it for free.”