Roses in Winter

by Penelope Daniels

  “Alina,” he whispered softly. “I’d never raise my hand to you. I’m so sorry I ever gave you reason to be afraid of me.”

  She said nothing, but moved a little closer. He pressed his lips to her hair and ran a hand over her back, whispering comforting words to let her know she was safe, promising with his words and his touch that he would always be gentle with her.

  The beast that had frightened her that first night was gone and Edward the man had finally returned.

  Chapter Eleven

  Sykes sat across from Rodderick in front of the fire, clenching his fists as the man told all that he had seen. It had been only hours since he had returned from the mountain after finding his wife.

  “Who was he?”

  “I don’t know,” Sykes replied. “Never seen him before. A gruesome man with scars all over his face. Probably some vagabond that found the place abandoned and thought it would make a nice love nest.”

  The man downed the spirits Rodderick had offered him and then lowered the empty glass.

  “Did she seem willing?” Rodderick asked.

  “Aye, she did,” Sykes replied almost laughing. “And if they’re kissing in the courtyard you can guarantee they’re doing much more than that behind closed doors.”

  Rodderick stood from his chair to pour himself another glass, his hands shaking with rage.

  “I’m telling you,” Sykes said, the alcohol in his blood making him speak too liberally, “he might have captured her from the woods or even from your own back door—”

  “Did he look the sort?”

  “Nearly choked me to death before I could fight him off,” he said. “He’s a madman. But listen to me. Maybe he’s been watching the village waiting for a woman to go off on her own, but no matter how she ended up there, your wife is not staying with him against her will.”

  Rodderick was silent a moment and then he turned, hurling his glass and watching it shatter against the wall.

  “What are you going to do?” Sykes asked when Rodderick didn’t speak.

  “I’m going to get her back and deal with both her and the cur she’s with.”

  ❄ ❄ ❄

  As Edward had predicted, the contents of the journal began to describe spells and curses and hexes, the writing becoming even more cramped and frantic. It took Alina an hour to decipher a couple of pages and what she found was beginning to weigh on her mind.

  Gruesome descriptions of violence preceded each spell. Alina began to believe that Edward’s father had burned him not as an act of desperate brutality, but as a calculated action that would seal the curse upon his only son. That must have been the meaning behind the threats against Edward’s mother too. If his father had ambitions—and a plan for bringing them to fruition—he’d need a premeditated act of violence to carry it out.

  Alina put the book down and rubbed her fingers over her eyes, pushing the images out of her mind with thoughts of Edward. She focused on the way he had held her, promising her that she was safe, and all the bad thoughts were quickly chased away.

  The scarves and handkerchiefs often came to check on her, refilling her cup with tea. After noon, Edward brought a tray of food and insisted she stop working long enough to eat.

  “You’ve barely touched a thing all day,” he said.

  Alina relented, and set the journal aside, pulling the tray closer and taking a bite of bread.

  “I can see this weighs on your mind,” Edward said, thumbing through her translations. “I have asked too much of you.”

  “You haven’t,” she said. “It’s not just your life this might save. I want the curse broken too.”

  “Are the writings as dark and sinister as I imagine?”

  “Yes,” she replied, shuddering. “There are spells here that grant strange powers or create good fortune, but at a terrible cost. Nearly all of them require an act of cruelty. I wonder if your father was using your mother as a sort of well to draw from—an easy target for his violence.”

  “You may be right,” he said, “And I believe he developed a taste for the brutality.”

  “I understand,” she replied. “And as his wife, perhaps he came to see her as a possession for him to use to his own advantage. He wouldn’t be the first man to think that way.”

  Edward seemed to read her thoughts.

  “I know you’re scared,” he said. “We will figure this out and you won’t have to go back to him. No woman should be required to live with a man who thinks of them that way. If we break this curse, that’s something I will work to change.”

  Alina hadn’t realized how hungry she had been and was suddenly very grateful for the tray as she took another bite of bread.

  After a while of sitting together, Edward left Alina to her work. She continued the translations until the sun was down and she had to strain her eyes to read in the fading light. It was just before she was preparing to put the book away for the night when something in the margin caught her eye.

  Purification. Absolution. Rebirth.

  The words were off, as if they had been added as an afterthought, the writing not in line with the original text. She kept reading.

  A basic counterspell must reverse a curse’s original requirements: ritually purify the body; perform an expression of love; embrace the sunlight, the origin of all life.

  Alina jotted down the translation on a scrap of parchment to show Edward. Most of the curses she had seen in the journal required violence and destruction. It made sense that a reversal would be the opposite. Alina flipped page after page, looking for anything that might help with the first step. But there was nothing in the book on purification. It was probably not something Edward’s father had felt the need to write down.

  The hour was late. She set the journal aside and left the library, realizing that neither Edward or his mother had been to check on her for a long time. He would be overjoyed with her discovery. Relief washed over her. There was hope.

  When she entered the dining room expecting to see Edward waiting for her, she found only an empty room, the table free of plates or candlesticks. A single piece of parchment had been folded and placed where she could see her name written across its front. She unfolded it and read in Edward’s hand.

  Please join me for dinner in the ballroom tonight.

  Alina heard music as she walked down the hallway and as she neared the ballroom, the scent of fresh pine filled the air. In the doorway, flickering candles and scarlet roses were arranged upon the floor, welcoming her through the double doors.

  Inside the room the scarves and handkerchiefs were fluttering about adding finishing touches to the decorations. Alina could tell that Edward’s mother had done most of the work. It must have taken a good deal of magic to turn the room into the winter wonderland that spread out before her.

  Frost covered every surface making everything sparkle and glitter in the candlelight. In the center of the floor, a grove of pine trees stood, their branches covered with snow. Among them sat Edward, straight backed, the sound of his cello reverberating throughout the space.

  As Alina entered, Edward saw her and halted his playing.

  “You didn’t have to stop,” she said, but he just smiled at her and put the cello to the side and stood from his chair.

  He was dressed in his usual dark trousers and jacket, the cut of the fabric accentuating his broad shoulders and the way his torso tapered at his waist. Before Alina had the chance to feel underdressed, the scarves and handkerchiefs unfolded into great swaths of silk which wound their way up around her woolen dress. When they fell away, she wore a new gown of soft pink, adorned with pearls that tumbled down the bodice and draped across the low back.

  Edward reached her and extended his hand. His eyes, though still as dark as ever, seemed softer tonight. The way he looked at her made her want to melt into his arms, reminding her of the way he had held her the night before. Alina placed her hand in his and let him lead her through the pine trees to a little table that she had not noticed bef
ore. He guided her to a chair.

  “What is all this about?” Alina asked, letting her eyes wander around the room again. When she looked up, tiny snowflakes began to fall and then disappear just before they reached their heads.

  “I saw the weight in your eyes this afternoon,” he said, pouring her a glass of wine. “I wanted to give you one evening to forget everything.”

  “Thank you,” she said, wondering where this thoughtful Edward had been hiding all along.

  Dinner was served with plates of food and desserts appearing beneath napkins. With all the splendor, Alina had almost forgotten her good news.

  “I found the answer in the journal,” she said smiling.

  He nearly dropped his fork and Alina read him the translation which she still clutched in her hand, blushing while mentioning the second step.

  “Are there any further instructions?” he asked. “Or anything to clarify in case nothing happens.”

  She shook her head. “I suppose we have to try things until it works. I don’t know how to ritually purify something.”

  “I might,” Edward said. “My father used to clean things with salt water. I never asked him why, but that might have been the reason. Do you think it would work on me?”

  “It’s a better idea than anything I could think of,” she replied. “It does seem to fit. And if it doesn’t work, we try something else.”

  Determined to attempt it in the morning when the sun was out, both of them returned to their meal, smiling and overwhelmed with hopefulness.

  ❄ ❄ ❄

  When the meal was over, Edward played the cello for Alina again and then asked her to sing for him.

  “How did you know I love to sing?” she asked.

  “I heard you,” he confessed, putting his cello aside and standing to face her. “You were cleaning this room and I could hear your voice and I ...listened outside the door.”

  They both blushed.

  “I hope you found the song to your liking,” she said, her voice barely more than a whisper. He took a step toward her until their bodies were almost touching, then slowly he dipped his head to press his soft lips against hers.

  He sensed her nervousness, taking her hands in his and pressing them to his chest. She let them linger there a moment, before sliding them upward to curl around the nape of his neck. He moved his hands to the side of her face, threading his fingertips into her hair. He broke away, smiling at the sight of her standing so near him, breathless, with her lips red from his kisses.

  “My Persephone,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers. “That’s what you are. You came into my cold, dark hell and you brought spring.”

  She blushed again and her face changed. He saw something there that he hadn’t before.

  Desire.

  Alina slipped her hand into his and tugged him toward the door. Leaving the napkins behind, they left the ballroom, Edward letting her lead. She looked back at him smiling and he wondered where she was taking him until she stopped outside his chamber door.

  Standing on her tiptoes, she pressed her lips against his again. This time the kiss was slow and deliberate as she tasted him, taking time to feel him respond.

  She broke away, lowering her gaze. It was clear that she wanted him and Edward wondered if it was her own passion that made her suddenly bashful. Something about her timidness calmed the eagerness growing inside him. He would be gentle with her, just as he’d promised, even though it took all of his self control not to take her as desperately, wildly, and passionately as his heart desired. He remembered how he had frightened her before and never wanted to see that fear in her eyes again.

  “Please don’t stop,” he whispered and he could hear the hunger in his own voice.

  She conceded. There was a longing in her touch, as if she was pleading with him, begging him to show her what it felt like to be cherished.

  Edward turned the knob and opened his chamber door before backing into the room. Their lips barely left one another’s as he closed the door behind them and pulled her along to the bed. He broke away to sit on the mattress and pull her onto his lap, running the back of his fingers against her arm.

  “Are you warm enough?” he asked. She gave a quick nod and her nervousness was evident. Edward searched for what he might say to reassure her.

  “It’s alright,” he said. “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to. I’m content that you’d even kiss me.”

  “That’s not it,” she replied, covering her face in embarrassment. He coaxed her hands from her face, tenderly putting his fingers under her chin and raising it so he could look into her eyes. He tried to encourage her with his glance. There was nothing she could possibly do or say that would upset him right now.

  “What is wrong?” he asked.

  She reached out and placed her hands on his chest, feeling the hardness of his body beneath his shirt.

  “I want you... more than I’ve wanted anything before.”

  Edward’s smile gave way to a small chuckle.

  “And why should that make you nervous?” he asked.

  “Because I am not good at these things,” she said, whispering the words.

  “Alina,” he said, placing a kiss on her forehead. “You are so beautiful, and kind, and lovely, and have been so patient with me. There is nothing that you can possibly do that will make me not want you. And I do want you.”

  She swallowed. With shaking hands, she pushed his coat a little off his shoulders, prompting him to remove it and toss it over the back of a nearby chair. He quickly pulled at his cravat until he had loosened the neckcloth. Her hands moved to his shirt, untucking it and lifting the linen a little above his waistline. He didn’t move, knowing she already felt timid and not wanting to do anything that would stop her from touching him. He needed her to touch him like he needed breath. She slipped her hands beneath his shirt, trailing them up his bare chest agonizingly slowly. He pulled off his shirt the rest of the way, bracing for the moment she would see his scars. But the sight of them didn’t make her hesitate.

  “Does it bother you?” he asked, watching her fingers trace over the marks. He tried not to feel self-conscious as she touched his damaged skin. She just shook her head and softly pressed her lips to his chest.

  With gentle hands, he slowly removed the pins from her hair, his fingers searching for each one before pulling it out and watching the pale locks fall around her shoulders. She was beautiful and Edward could no longer hold back. Letting his fingers slip around her waist, he felt the dip of her spine, imagining what she would look like if he removed her dress altogether.

  “Alina. I want to make love to you,” he whispered.

  She smiled up at him with desire in her own eyes.

  “I want that too,” she said.

  He didn’t need any more prompting than that and stood from the bed to remove his boots. Once he managed to get them off, he glanced back to the bed. Alina had repositioned herself so that she was kneeling on the mattress facing away from him. When she began to pull the skirts of her evening gown up to her waist, Edward quickly stayed her arm.

  Was this what she thought making love was?

  She let him move her arm and looked up at him in confusion.

  “What if we did it a different way?” he asked, gently guiding her from her position to lay on her back. “At least for this first time I want to be able to look into your eyes. I want to see your face and remember your reactions. Let me show you what it feels like.”

  “Edward,” she said, and he noticed the unease in her voice. “I’m not a virgin. I know what it feels like. And you don’t have to worry. I won’t cry out. I have learned how to endure the pain.”

  Edward’s chest suddenly felt heavy and a lump rose in his throat. He remembered the way he had found her that first night, sprawled in the freezing cold snow. Only desperation could have led her to his gates in a blizzard. There had been bruises on her back, and since that night, he’d seen the way she flinched so
metimes. She wasn’t naive about these things and Edward knew what it all meant. Pleasure for her husband must have meant agony for her.

  He couldn't reply to her comments. There was no doubt in his mind that the beautiful woman lying beneath him had never had her needs met before—had never had her breath taken away at a touch or experienced the ecstasy of climax. She didn’t know what it meant to truly make love.

  If she would allow him, he would remedy that tonight.

  After making sure she was comfortable, Edward lay down beside her and began kissing her slowly, giving her back the confidence she had shown earlier. He moved his lips to her jaw and then her neck. Resting a hand on her waist, he waited until some of her nervousness had left her and then he let his hand wander up her stomach and finally smooth over her breast through her gown. She let out a soft sigh and closed her eyes.

  She kicked her slippers onto the floor before his hand slid up her leg, beneath her dress, until he reached the top of her stockings. His fingers fumbled with the garters before managing to unfasten them, then rolled each stocking down to uncover her legs. After her feet were bare, he coaxed her into a sitting position and slowly loosened the lacings on the back of her dress. She smiled at him as he struggled with the small chords.

  “Do you want some help?” she asked, but he managed to untie her stays with his own hands.

  He slipped the gown off her shoulders, the strings of pearls sliding against her spine, until the garment pooled around her waist, exposing her breasts to the cool air of the room. She lay back on the pillows again and pushed on the gown, forcing it past her hips. Edward helped her free her legs from the yards of fabric and let the dress fall away to the floor. Goosebumps rose on her skin and Edward fantasized about all the ways he could warm her.

  He paused to look at her and marvel at her beauty. Sprawled out on his bed, he could see her in all her splendor and the sight made his pulse quicken, sending sensual heat straight to his arousal.

  He wanted her.