One Wicked Winter (Rogues & Gentlemen #6)

“Edward,” Belle said, smiling at him, though it was still a cautious expression. “I didn’t expect you.”

“Didn’t want me, you mean?” he threw back at her, surprising himself by the anger and doubt behind those words. He hadn’t meant to say that. He hadn’t meant to say anything, only take her to bed.

She stared at him for a moment, her eyes troubled. “Is that what you think?” she asked, and her tone was gentler now.

“What else should I think?” he replied, infuriated that he sounded sulky now, dammit. This was not what he’d intended. He turned away from her and went to stand by the fire to pull himself together.

There was silence for a moment and he felt a fool, bursting in his wife’s bedroom and accusing her of not wanting him just because she’d gone away for a few days. Good Lord, what was wrong with him?

“I’m sorry, Edward.” Her voice was soft and right beside him, and he jolted as she laid a hand on his arm. He hadn’t realised she was so close. He looked down at her and saw regret in her eyes. “You hurt my feelings, you see, and I’m afraid I was rather angry with you, so I left. It was foolish, I suppose, but I did need to do some shopping. Violette told me you wanted me to, and ... I didn’t want to embarrass you with my old gowns, so ...” She trailed off and gave a hesitant shrug. “I won’t go off like that again. You have my word.”

God, he was a brute. He looked down at her lovely face, caught in the sincerity of her expression. He had not expected such honesty and it quite disarmed him, his anger falling away and leaving only regret that he had hurt her. How in the name of all that was holy had he left her alone in bed, in any case? It seemed impossible.

“I wasn’t embarrassed,” he said, irritated that his voice still sounded harsh and annoyed when he hadn’t meant it to. “But this ...” He reached out a hand and touched the soft, buttery satin with a fingertip. “This is ... good ... nice ...” Nice? Nice? What are you, six? he raged inwardly. She was so beautiful that it was all he could do to stand still and not haul her into his arms. Only, there was something about her that held him back, he didn’t dare.

She returned a dazzling smile to him that was quite out of proportion to the compliment. “I’m glad you like it.”

He nodded, deciding it might be safer to say as little as possible, after all.

Her hand slid down his arm and her fingers twined with his. “I missed you,” she said.

The words slid under his skin and wrapped around him, warming him when he hadn’t realised he’d been cold at all. He wanted to return them, to give her something back, but he couldn’t.

“Can I stay?” At least it had been a question, though it sounded rather more like a demand. She looked up at him, her blue eyes growing dark and a pretty flush blooming over her skin. She would say yes, he realised, smug at the knowledge she still wanted him, but then a glimpse of steel flickered behind the blue, and he acknowledged a tremor of doubt.

“Yes, but ... on one condition,” she said, and he knew she meant it, whatever the condition was. He held his breath, wondering what she wanted from him. “You must still be here in the morning when I wake.”

There was a moment of panic at the idea of waking beside her, but it was drowned out by the clamouring sound of his desire. Edward pulled her into his arms and kissed her, the relief at being able to touch her like a weight lifted from him. She responded immediately, her hands in his hair, tugging at his cravat, kissing him with equal fervour, and then she pulled away.

She was breathing hard, her eyes so full of wanting, but she was also bloody determined if the tone of her voice was anything to go on.

“Promise me,” she demanded, and when she didn’t get an answer she began to move away from him.

Edward tightened his hold on her, refusing to let her go.

“Promise,” she repeated, that glint of steel only too obvious now.

“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.”

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