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His palm dropped to her hip, pleasingly warm against her skin, and with a deft movement, his hand slipped underneath the hem of her chemise.

Daphne shuddered in delight at the feeling of warm fingers on her bare skin. It seemed entirely natural for her thighs to open and frame his hips, one ankle hooking around the back of his thigh, pulling him against her.

Like before, his fingers brushed against the junction between her legs, making her jerk, a stifled whisper escaping her lips. This time, though, Edward withdrew his hand far too early.

“Are you ready, my love?” he whispered, pressing another kiss to the side of her neck.

“Yes,” she gasped. “I… I’m ready.”

There was a blunt press of something hot and firm against her core, a moment of discomfort as it slipped inside. Daphne breathed in, frowning, trying to adjust to the strange feeling.

“Do you need me to stop?” Edward whispered, his voice tight.

Her eyes were open now, but she could still hardly see anything in the darkness. When he brushed his fingers against her cheek, the pleasant surprise made her flinch and suck in a breath.

“No,” she breathed.

He began to move, slowly and carefully rolling his hips, and Daphne began to feel the familiar peak of her climax approaching once again, a pressure building up and up inside her. She closed her eyes, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and pressing her cheek against his neck.

Edward was growling deep in his throat, a noise that thrilled her so much she had no idea how to manage it. Her climax hit her with an almost jarring rush, pleasure and dizziness combining to make her feel as though she were drunk. She was vaguely aware of Edward’s movements becoming erratic, his hips stuttering, his growls becoming louder.

Then, he gasped, tightening his grip on her, his fingers on her thighs digging in with a delicious rush of sensation, and then there was only the sound of their ragged breaths filling the room.

Edward pulled back, and she saw a sheen of sweat on his forehead.

“Daphne?” he whispered, his voice cracking. “Are you… Was that…?”

“It was excellent,” she breathed. “I might, however, need you to carry me to the bed. I’m not sure my legs will work.”

He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “In that case, then, for heaven’s sake, can we have a little light?”

They lay together in companionable silence. Candles were lit, of course, filling the room with a buttery, comforting glow. To avoid the embarrassment of summoning a servant to kindle a fire, Edward had kindled it himself. They were both propped up against the pillows, the sheets wound luxuriously around their bare bodies, tangled together. Daphne’s head was resting on his chest, and Edward’s cheek rested on the crown of her warm head, and he could not ever recall feeling happier.

There was a tinge of sadness to the happiness too. He suspected he would feel that way for a long time, every time he remembered his stepmother.

He had told Daphne everything, holding back nothing. She’d listened in absolute silence, and even shed a tear or two.

“You did the right thing,” she said. “Clarissa did a terrible thing, but hanging her will only destroy the lives of more people. Yours and mine, for a start, to say nothing of Alex’s.”

Edward swallowed hard, closing his eyes. “Oh, poor Alex. He begged to know what had happened, but I told him I would only tell him when he was older.”

“That was wise. A child shouldn’t have to carry a burden like that.”

“I keep thinking about one part of Clarissa’s story,” Edward murmured, shaking his head. “How, after she’d given my mother the poisoned cup, she tried to stop it. She told her to wait, not to drink, but it was too late. For the want of a few seconds, I wonder how different my life would have been.”

Daphne placed her palm on his chest, right over where his heart beat beneath the bone and flesh.

“You’ll go mad, thinking like that. The fact is that it did happen, and it cannot be changed. At least the truth is out. Perhaps that would have given your mother some comfort, at least.”

He nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the fire. “I’ll open the gallery when we get home. It will do Alex good to look at his mother again. I won’t let him obsess over her, however, any more than I would let him eat marzipan till he was sick.”

“You’re a good father, and a kind man,” Daphne murmured, tilting back her head. “I take back what I said earlier, by the way. About starting to fall in love with you.”

He raised his eyebrows, glancing down at her. “Oh?”

“Indeed. If you must know, Iamin love with you.”

He chuckled at that. “I’m rather glad about that, becauseIam in love withyou, my dear Duchess.”