Charlie had been a dear, in fact, keeping her informed of how Edward was doing. Mostly, he said, he just sat staring out of the window and would not be drawn into conversation. He had eaten little and was drinking too much. His thoughts were clearly stuck in the past and the horrors of everything he’d seen.
If only he’d something else to occupy his mind, Charlie had said the night before, which had got Belle thinking. In fact, she’d thought of nothing else ever since he’d said it, and now, on Christmas Eve, she had what she believed was the perfect answer. She had already spoken to Charlie about it, and her hopes had risen at the smile that had dawned over the valet’s rough features.
“Blimey, my lady, ye are a bleedin’ genius, pardon my French.”
Belle had grinned back at him, thrilled that he thought it a good idea. “You don’t think he’ll be cross?” she asked, feeling more than a little nervous.
Charlie shrugged. “Maybe, but once it’s all done, ‘e’ll be honour-bound, won’t ‘e? Reckon it’s just the ticket, get ‘im thinkin’ about sommat different and new.”
Belle sighed and hoped that Charlie had been right. Either way, that wasn’t until tomorrow, and she had to get through tonight yet.
Picking up her candle, she opened her bedroom door and crept along the corridor. Her heart leapt to her throat as something creaked behind her, but when she turned, there was nothing there. Silently, she cursed her husband and his stories of murdered housekeepers. Hurrying along, lest she should see something she’d rather not, she found herself outside Edward’s door and held her breath as she turned the handle.
It opened silently and she padded into the room on bare feet.
It was still warm, at least, the fire in the hearth still blazing and casting a warm glow. Belle extinguished her candle and placed it down as quietly as she could manage, noticing the large, huddled shape under the bed covers with relief. A fine thing it would have been if he weren’t even here.
Remembering Celeste’s words of encouragement, regarding men’s libido and desires, she let her gown drop to the floor so that she was quite naked, and tiptoed over to the bed.
Edward stirred a little as she slipped under the covers, and Belle’s heart beat so fast that she wondered if it were trying to escape her ribcage. But then, all was silent, and Edward was breathing deeply with Belle lying beside him.
Tentatively, Belle slid a hand out and rested it on his chest, feeling his heart beating steady and firm beneath her palm. Slowly, her hand travelled lower, following the trail of dark hair that led to that intriguingly silky skin. Finding her own breathing rather harsher now, Belle began to caress him, encouraged as he began to grow harder and his breathing quickened too.
Edward sighed, and she was not entirely sure if he was awake or asleep, but her touch became firmer and a little faster.
“Belle?” He sounded sleepy and a little dazed as Belle moved over him, straddling his hips and leaning down to kiss him.
“Yes, my love, I’m here.”
She moved against him, finding her own body aching for him now as she moved against the hard length of him. Her breath caught as he groaned and his hands went to her waist, his hips arching up to her.
Reaching between them, Belle moved, awkwardly, at first, as she tried to slide him into place, but then, everything seemed to be just as it ought as she moved down on him, feeling pleasure bloom inside of her.
Edward made a sound of deep approval as she began to move again, slowly, then finding the rhythm she needed to satisfy both of them. His big hands clutched at her waist as though she was keeping him anchored to the ground and he dare not let go.
“Belle,” he groaned, the sound half anguish, half delight as she leaned down again to find his mouth.
“I love you, Edward,” she whispered against his lips as the pleasure grew and her breath came faster. “I love you and I won’t let you run from me,” she said, clutching at his shoulders. “Where ever you go, I will find you, and I will make you safe again. I won’t let you frighten me off.”
The breath seemed to leave him in a rush and he clung on tighter.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she said, meaning it and hoping he knew it was the truth. “Not anymore. I never could be again.”
Edward made a strangled sound, and then the pleasure was too intense, too much, and they came together, tangled in Belle’s desire and love and hopes for future as she did everything she could to chase the past away.
***
“I’m so sorry, Belle.”
Belle turned on her side to face her husband, seeing Edward’s eyes glinting in what remained of the firelight. He reached out a hand and touched the tiny mark where she had struck the bedside cabinet when she’d tumbled from their bed.
“It wasn’t your fault,” she said, and heard his grunt of disagreement. “It wasn’t,” she insisted. “I know better than to try and force you awake again,” she added. “I was just so frightened for you, Edward. You were so obviously caught in something vile and ... and so awful. I just wanted to bring you back.”
He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them, but his voice, when it came, was serious and so full of fear that her heart ached.
“I don’t know if you can, Belle, if I can.” He was silent, but she waited, feeling there was more. “Sometimes I don’t feel like I’m really here at all. Like ... like I’m a fake, a ... a fraud, and the real me is still there, still fighting. I ... I can’t explain it,” he said, sounding frustrated and disgusted. “God, you must think you married a bloody madman,” he snarled, his temper rising out of nowhere. “I bet you do.” The words were accusing and harsh, and Belle’s own temper sparked to life.
“I think nothing of the sort!” she said, her voice remarkably angry. “And don’t you dare put words in my mouth, Edward Greyston.”
“Well, it’s true!” he snapped, moving away from her and sitting up in bed now.
Belle moved to the cabinet and fumbled about muttering until she had lit enough candles that she could see her husband’s face. She got out of bed and pulled on her robe, taking the candles around to his side of the bed and sitting beside him. The candles threw a flickering light, and his handsome face was severe and full of shadows, which seemed apt. There was a deal of darkness in her husband, but none of it was his doing, none of it there because he had done wrong. He had served his country and bled and suffered because of it.
He was staring ahead of him, with that stiff-jawed expression that meant nothing she said was going to get through to him. With annoyance, she reached out and grabbed hold of his chin.