Page 13 of His Runaway Duchess (Regency Wedding Crashers #3)

CHAPTER 13

I t was too much. It was all too much. What was she meant to do? Stay inside, struggling to breathe and fighting down panic?

No, that couldn’t happen. Daphne had spent time pacing up and down in her room. Something was happening, judging by the scurrying of the servants around the upper floors, but she couldn’t bring herself to care.

It was getting dark outside, making the feeling of being shut-in even worse.

I can’t bear it.

Throwing on an old white nightgown, little more than a chemise, Daphne pulled on a long coat to cover it and a pair of sturdy boots. She crept down and slid out through the unlocked French doors at the side of the house, and fled into the night.

She knew exactly where she was going. She’d seen it from her window—the glimmer of a pool, set deep among the trees. She could almost feel the cool water already, like silk on her skin, refreshing. Like being reborn.

Daphne breathed out in relief when the path led her to open grass and into the forest. The air was cool, and dark green undergrowth crowded around her. It was better than that large, stiff house, where nobody said what they thought and nobody was ever happy.

She burst out of the trees, and there she was, on the shore of the pool. The water glistened and rippled invitingly. Streaks of red and purple still striped the sky, giving an ethereal sort of light to the world. A faint mist was creeping over the water already.

Breathing hard, Daphne stripped off her coat, leaving it crumpled on the ground. She toed off her boots and stepped forward… only to be immediately yanked back.

Stumbling, she collided with a firm, solid, and warm chest. She might have fallen, except that the grip on her arm was strong, keeping her upright. She blinked up at her assailant and was not in the least surprised that it was her husband-to-be.

“What,” Edward hissed, “do you think you are doing?”

She yanked her arm out of his grip. “What do you think you are doing? You said I could do what I wanted.”

“Yes, but you weren’t supposed to run away!”

She paused, narrowing her eyes at him. “You thought I was running away?”

He paused, shifting from foot to foot. She could see uncertainty creeping in. “Wasn’t that what you were doing?”

Daphne placed her hands on her hips. “If I was going to run away, would I do it in a nightgown?”

“I don’t know,” he shot back defensively. “You’ve made plenty of poor choices lately. We both have.”

That was a fair point, and Daphne conceded it with a nod.

“I am not running away,” she said firmly. “I’m going swimming.”

He blinked at her for a long moment. “ Swimming? At this time of day?”

“It’s the perfect time to swim.”

“It’s dark!”

“Not quite.”

“You’ll drown.”

“I can swim.”

“You’ll freeze.”

“It isn’t that cold. Besides, I’ll only be in the water for fifteen or twenty minutes. It’s refreshing and calms the mind. You should try it sometime,” she snarked. “You look as though you’re about to die from an apoplexy half the time.”

He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I feel as though I’m about to die from an apoplexy. Sometimes I think it would be a mercy.”

“Don’t we all,” Daphne muttered.

She turned back towards the pool, her bare feet crunching against the shale. She’d intended to peel off her nightgown and swim naked—the most daring thing she could imagine—but she had no intention of doing that with him there. Goosebumps rose over her skin at the very thought.

She splashed deeper and deeper, the water like a silken caress, creeping up her calves, then over her knees, surging up her thighs until she was hip-deep. She turned then to face him and found that he was staring at her, his face unreadable.

“There, it’s not so bad,” she called. “You really should come in.”

“No, thank you.”

She arched an eyebrow, wading in deeper. “Are you going to stand there and gawp at me, then?”

He folded his arms tightly. “I am watching to make sure you don’t drown, woman, or else the papers will label me a murderer.”

She winced, plunging suddenly deeper, up to her chin. It was cold, and her teeth chattered, but it was a thrilling, refreshing sort of cold.

“I won’t drown.”

“You’d better not,” he muttered.

There was a boulder overhanging the edge of the pool, and he clambered on top of it and settled down, his legs hanging over the water. Daphne began to swim, rolling onto her back and letting her hair fan out around her, like a mermaid’s. The nightgown was all but see-through now, plastered to her skin. She’d have to ask him to bring the coat right to the edge of the water, for modesty.

For some reason, that thought made desire tug at Daphne’s gut again, color rushing to her feet. There was an ache in the bottom of her stomach, pulsing almost between her legs. That felt like a shocking thing, so she held her breath and dropped entirely under the water, hoping to cool away the thoughts.

It worked, a little. When she resurfaced, Edward was watching the place where she’d disappeared, looking anxious. As soon as their eyes met, the anxiety on his face evaporated.

“I thought you’d been told when the wedding would take place,” he said, leaning back, “and you were running for your life.”

“I’ve made my peace with it,” Daphne responded, swimming a little closer to the side. The center of the pool was very deep, and she hadn’t swum in such a long time. Better safe than sorry. It was certainly not because she wanted to be close to Edward. Not at all.

Edward watched her for a moment. “I won’t be a cruel husband, you know. I really will leave you alone.”

“Perhaps I don’t want to be left alone,” she shot back. “Perhaps I want somebody I can be friends with. The thing about always asking to be left alone, Edward, is that sometimes you get what you ask for.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw. “I don’t have a knack for making people like me. You seem to have it. I bet Alex will have it when he grows up. He’s already such a charming, pleasant, little boy. He likes everybody. Except me, of course.”

Daphne sighed. “Of course, he likes you, Edward. You’re his father. He’s at that age where you’re like a god to him. He adores you. But this age won’t last, so you’ll have to work hard to make him love you. You have to earn his trust.”

“I took him horse riding,” Edward said bitterly, “and I only ever seemed to say the wrong thing. I wouldn’t let him make a jump that I thought was too big for him, and he was so angry. What am I supposed to do? I set a boundary, and he rages against it. If you set one, or Mrs. Trench, or anyone but me, he accepts it. I can’t reason with him.”

Daphne pursed her lips. “Because he’s eight. Eight-year-olds aren’t known for their logic. He seems precocious, so we treat him as if he were older, but he’s still eight . I’m not a parent, so I can’t give you proper advice, but I think you should persevere with him. He’s worth it, isn’t he?”

Edward swallowed, hanging his head. “Of course, he’s worth it. I just… I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to be different.”

She ducked under the surface again, spitting out pond water when she came up.

“You could start by trying new ideas and doing interesting things to please others,” she suggested. “Like swimming.”

He narrowed his eyes at her and scrambled to his feet. For a moment, Daphne was entirely sure that he was going to storm off, leaving her to drown or freeze or swim as she preferred. Then, in one smooth movement, he peeled off his jacket and tossed it to the shale.

The boots came next, tossed one after the other to the ground. He unbuttoned his waistcoat and stripped off his cravat, and it abruptly struck Daphne that he was standing there in his breeches and a loose white shirt, and that was all.

The desire came hurtling back, undeterred by cold water and stern internal scoldings.

There was a pause, and Edward met Daphne’s eyes just for an instant. She wasn’t sure what passed between them, only that she was staring, and he was standing on top of the rock like some sort of disgraced Greek god, and she was rapidly getting out of her depth in more ways than one.

Edward pulled his shirt over his head and tossed the flimsy fabric away. Daphne’s gaze, of course, dropped immediately to his bare chest.

He was breathtakingly well-sculpted, much like the Grecian statues she’d seen before, muscle and solid flesh rippling across his chest and down his abdomen. His shoulders were shockingly broad—no padding needed for the Duke of Thornbridge, thank you very much—and his arms were thick with muscle and sinew. There was a faint fuzz of dark hair on his chest, the top of which she’d glimpsed earlier, but that hair went all the way down his stomach in a line, disappearing beneath the waistband of his breeches.

The water wasn’t cold anymore. Daphne felt as though she were on fire. The ache was back, and she had no idea, none at all, how to manage it.

Edward met her eyes again, but the sun had dipped lower, and the shadows lengthened, and now she couldn’t read his expression at all.

“Watch out,” he said shortly, and without further warning, dived off the top of the boulder and into the middle of the pond, splashing Daphne in the face.

She was still spluttering when he came up, shaking his head and pushing wet hair out of his eyes. He was close, but he swam closer, his gaze almost too intense to bear but simultaneously impossible to look away from.

“I knew you wouldn’t swim away,” he said, his voice low. “I knew you wouldn’t run away from me again.”

Daphne sucked in a breath, a water droplet trickling down from her hairline. She was just out of her depth here, treading water, but she could tell that Edward had his feet on the bottom.

“I’ll decide later,” she said shakily. “I do what I want, you see.”

He tilted his head. “Not everything that you want. You’re mine, you see, Daphne Belmont.”

She opened her mouth, hoping that some witty retort would come out, but somehow her head seemed to be empty, distracted by the thudding desire in her gut and the pounding of her heart.

“Not yet,” she managed.

He grinned. It was a proper grin, the sort she rarely saw on his face.

“I think you’ve been mine since I first kissed you.”

This time, the sharp retort came more quickly. “Oh, you think so?”

Abruptly, he dived forward, scooping her up in his arms and pulling her against him. His body was warm, so warm in contrast to the cold water, and Daphne wrapped her arms around his shoulders almost on instinct.

“I know so,” he whispered, his warm breath tickling her chin.

Then, he kissed her.

Oh, and it was a better kiss than last time.

Molten heat surged through Daphne, plunging downwards into her core. It seemed unstoppable, but the helplessness was almost delicious.

They don’t write about this in those books in the back of the library.

She kissed him back, curling her fingers across his broad, bare shoulders, pushing them up into his hair, and catching his lower lip between her teeth in a way that felt almost instinctual. He growled under his breath, and she felt the sound reverberate through her body.

They broke apart to breathe, and Edward ducked his head to kiss the side of her neck. When he dragged the flat of his tongue across the pulse point at her throat, she let out an undignified gasp. She felt him smile, his stubble scratching her chin.

She was floating, her legs dangling in the water, her nightdress streaming around them both. Edward pushed one hand below the surface, and she felt his palm flatten against her side. She could feel him , too, a hot hardness pressing against her thigh.

Fascinating.

Can you feel my heartbeat?

“You infuriating girl,” he breathed, a catch in his voice. “You’re going to be the death of me after we’re married.”

“I don’t want to think about the future,” Daphne heard herself say. “I’m tired of it. It gives me a headache. I only want to think about the here and now.”

He blinked, swallowing. “Very well. I want that, too.”

His hand ducked lower, cupping her hip. The touch seemed so much more than just a touch, sending prickles across her skin. Daphne didn’t realize that Edward had found his way through the voluminous folds of her floating gown until his fingers danced across her thigh, skin to skin, with no fabric in the way.

He kissed her again, and she was glad that he was holding her up, or else she might have slipped under the surface, too weak to save herself, and drowned. Fingers traced up her thigh, all the way up to her hip bone, and danced across the curve of her lower stomach.

He’s going to touch me there.

Daphne was thrilled and terrified. When his knuckles brushed the junction between her legs, it felt as though she’d been struck by lightning. She jerked reflexively, clinging to his shoulders.

Edward murmured something she could not hear, his voice muffled against the side of her neck. She tightened her grip, concentrating on breathing evenly.

His hand moved in a slow, almost languid way, tracing a line between her thighs again and again, as if the water were slowing them down.

Daphne’s heart, though, was beating faster and faster and faster until she thought she was going to faint. She pushed her hand down through the water, curling her fingers around his wrist.

At once, Edward’s movements ceased, and he pulled back to look at her.

“Do you want me to stop?” he asked, his voice thick.

She swallowed. “Stop? No, p-please don’t stop.”

A slow smile broke across his face. “No, I didn’t think so.”

Tightening his grip on her waist, Edward pulled her closer, resuming his caresses. They sped up, the pressure increasing by a whisper, and Daphne felt something building up inside her, something that tensed up her core and made her breathing ragged. She had no breath left for kissing, so she pressed her forehead against the side of Edward’s neck and concentrated on holding on.

“You’re lovely,” he gasped, a ragged remark that seemed almost torn out of him. “You have no idea how much.”

Daphne was well past the opportunity to make sharp remarks. Breath coming hard, eyes squeezed shut, she shuddered as her climax hit her, rolls of pleasure making her shake.

It really did feel like drowning. In a good way, of course.