No. He was certainly not repulsed by her.
Belle exhaled and felt a little less unsure of herself. But then, if he desired her, what was the problem? He had been so quick to stop her touching him, had it really just been because he was sweaty and dishevelled? Belle bit her lip and wondered what the man would say if she admitted that sweaty and dishevelled was rather a devastating look for him, and one she’d be quite prepared to get used to.
She thought back and remembered the hunted, almost panicked look in his eyes as she had moved closer to him and wondered suddenly if anyone had touched him since the horrors he’d experienced?
Belle lay back on the huge bed with its bright scarlet drapes and considered Charlie’s words about the war, and about Edward. That he’d tried so hard to save his men, his friends, and how, when he couldn’t, he’d tried even harder to die, too, at their side. What must that do to a man?
It would make him loath to care for anyone ever again.
Belle felt a lump in her throat as she realised that was it. He would keep her at a distance and never let her in, because he could not risk losing anyone else.
“Well, my Lord Edward Greyston,” she whispered to the walls of Longwold. “We’ll just see about that.”
***
If Crecy or Violette guessed the reason for Belle’s agitation at dinner, they were wise enough to say nothing. Belle admitted herself grateful indeed for her husband’s continued absence from the dining room, and wondered if she’d be able to face anyone at breakfast.
By the time she’d returned to her room and her maid left her alone, she was a twittering mass of nervous energy. She prayed he wouldn’t back down a second time, as she didn’t think her nerves could take the strain.
Once again Belle sat perched on the edge of the bed, all pure white cotton and trembling limbs, surrounded by the opulence of her red, silk-lined boudoir.
An hour later and with growing despair, she had begun to believe that the man really wasn’t going to keep his word, when there was a soft knock at the door and her husband walked in the room.
Getting to her feet so suddenly her head began to spin, Belle grasped at one of the lavish red drapes that hung from the four-poster bed to steady herself, and barely restrained the urge to curtsey.
There was something about him tonight that made her very aware of his title. He seemed to dominate the room, his stance rigid, his expression tightly controlled and rather aloof. For a moment, Belle quailed, and wondered what on earth she’d been thinking in inviting this intimidating ... stranger into her bedroom!
But this stranger was her husband now, and if she didn’t want him to remain a stranger, she was going to have to be bold, and stubborn, and headstrong, and actually rather brave.
Belle swallowed.
And then it occurred to her, as she forced herself to look up into a pair of moss green eyes, that he was just as nervous as she was.
That intimidating, cold expression was a fa?ade, like so many things about this man, it would appear. She let out a breath and smiled at him.
“Hello.”
At first, he didn’t say anything, and then he looked around the vast room with an expression of chagrin. “I can’t remember when I was last in this room,” he said, his voice soft. “I had forgotten what ... extravagant taste my mother had.”
Belle bit back a smile but knew her eyes were dancing with laughter as he looked back at her.
“I hope you will feel free to decorate it to your own preferences,” he added, and she thought perhaps she saw the slightest glimmer of a smile. “I’m afraid you might find this a little ... overpowering.”
Belle did smile this time. “Thank you, my lord,” she said, hearing the relief in her voice at finding this gentler version of her husband this evening. “It was shocking at first sight, I admit, but ... I find I grow accustomed to it, as to many things.”
He made an amused sound, obviously taking her meaning. He glanced over at her, and she wished he would move closer; she felt rather foolish standing alone in her pristine nightgown. “You called me Edward earlier,” he observed.
Smiling at him, and deciding that she would move as he obviously wouldn’t, she took a step closer. “I did, yes,” she replied, stepping closer still. “Apparently sometimes I feel courageous enough to use your name, even when you look so furious at the very sight of me, and other times ... I don’t.”
His face shuttered up a little and he frowned. “I married you because I would not see you ruined, Miss ...” He stopped and gave her a rueful smile. “Belinda.”
“Belle,” she corrected, her voice barely a whisper as she wondered what he would say next.
“Belle,” he repeated, and she felt a frisson of excitement at hearing her name, spoken so softly. “But ...” he carried on, as Belle held her breath. “I never expected ... I wasn’t prepared ...” He gave a frustrated huff of annoyance and ran a hand through his carefully styled hair, leaving it messy and disordered and far more appealing to Belle’s eye. “I don’t know how to be a husband to you.”
He snorted at the look of surprise in her eyes.
“Not this!” he exclaimed with pure masculine pride, gesturing at the bed. “I assure you, you’ll have no complaints there,” he added, and Belle had to remind herself of what she was trying to achieve, in order to keep her tongue between her teeth and a pithy remark to herself. “I ...” he began again, and then stalked away from her to stand beside the fireplace, staring down at the flames. “I don’t want you to be miserable, Belle, but I don’t know that it is in my power to make you happy.”
The words were raw and honest, and Belle knew that Violette and Charlie, and her own instincts about the kind of man her husband was, were correct. He was a good man, he’d just forgotten how to behave like one.
Suddenly it seemed rather easier to be brave.
Belle walked forwards and slipped her hand into his, looking up into eyes that were dark and wary.
“I don’t know how to be a wife, either, Edward,” she said, and then gave him a rueful smile of her own. “Not even there,” she said, her cheeks heating as she waved at the daunting four-poster herself. She ploughed on, emboldened at seeing the flicker of amusement in his eyes. “But I know that happiness is in our own hands, and that I will do everything I can to make you happy, too.”
And then, taking her courage in her hands, she reached up and pressed her lips to his.
Chapter 20
“Wherein Belle wins a battle and faces a lonely victory with aplomb.”
It was like being jolted awake, that kiss. Edward had managed a fair approximation of calm until that point. He’d not exactly been eloquent, but he’d hoped he had begun to get across to the woman that she should not expect too much from him.
And then she’d kissed him.