Page 12 of The Prince’s Wallflower Wife (The Wallflower Academy #4)

Okay. Well, there was only one other route he could think to take at this late hour… Goodness, was it truly past eleven? Flattery.

‘Your father did an excellent job, hosting this wedding. His taste, truly, is impeccable,’ Christoph said with a sweep of his arm around the room. ‘He must care about you very deeply.’

His declaration had everything: a familial connection, flattery of her father, praise for the day itself, with a reminder that it was their wedding day, and a nod to the close connection between father and daughter.

If Christoph had been a betting man—and he never had been—he would have wagered that Daphne would be eager to continue the conversation on at least one of those lines.

He watched, however, as Daphne’s cheeks flushed, her legs crossed and uncrossed with seeming unconscious discomfort and her gaze dropped to her hands.

‘It’s the only thing he’s ever done for me,’ came her quiet words. There was no malice, but no affection either. ‘Other than send me away to the Wallflower Academy when I was a child, pretend he had no daughter, then offer that daughter to another man for money.’

Christoph swallowed hard, his mouth dry. ‘I see.’

And he did, almost. It did not appear, then, that Lord Norbury had the close relationship with his daughter Christoph had assumed. This Wallflower Academy was a finishing school of sorts.

‘Love, I suppose, comes in many forms,’ he attempted. ‘Your father, I am sure—’

‘Do not speak of what you do not know.’

The words were spoken calmly yet forcefully, and Daphne clasped a hand over her mouth once the statement was out. Apparently she was horrified at what she had said.

Christoph was hardly offended. No, it was a glimpse of the woman who just as suddenly was lost as her expression darkened and she pursed her lips, as though determined not to allow another single word to come out.

It was almost…frustrating. There was a tension in his loins that he knew had to be released, and could only be released in one way, to make this day mean something.

It was also frustrating in a different way.

Her father might not love her, true, but he had done what was best, as far as Christoph could see.

If Daphne had had any idea what it would be like to be part of a family that had no interest in her at all…

True, her father might show his regard in unfortunate or stilted ways, but still—he cared.

But that did not absolve him, Christoph, from the task he faced this evening. Taking a deep breath, he reminded himself that he had to do this. It had to happen. Yes, it would be awkward, and yes, he was certain that both he and Daphne would find it most awkward to discuss.

It helped, of course, that he was attracted to his new wife. More than attracted—intrigued; there was something about her that he could not quite understand. Something that suggested there was far more going on with Miss Daphne Smith—Princess Daphne, now—than most people ever saw.

If he was careful, the encounter would be pleasurable for both of them. That was what Christoph needed to remember: that, though this was a formality, a necessity, it was also a chance to…well…woo his wife.

And he would never force her. That was why he had to do what felt like the impossible and ask her.

‘Daphne,’ Christoph said curtly. She looked up, and he took another deep breath. ‘I must bed you this evening.’

If Daphne had not been so ensconced on the sofa, he thought she would have fallen to the floor.

The look of shock was certainly enough to startle him .

Her hand fell from her mouth as she parted her lips, then appeared to think better of it as a dark-red flush moved up the décolletage that Christoph was desperately trying not to look at, and closed her mouth.

Well. That was the worst of it out of the way…wasn’t it?

‘You know as well as I that this marriage is not entirely legal unless we… Unless it is consummated,’ Christoph said, as matter-of-factly as he could manage. ‘I cannot risk… It would be inadvisable to wait. If you are ready.’

‘Ready?’ whispered his new wife.

The self-loathing was back. Try as he might, Christoph could not completely push it aside. He was using her: using her as a tool in his plan, a mere pawn in his design.

‘Yes, ready,’ Christoph forced himself to say, not quite sure what he was supposed to do with his hands. Perhaps clasp them in his lap?

Daphne looked down at the floor for a moment, as though steeling herself for something truly unpleasant. Then she looked up. ‘If you insist.’

‘I don’t—’ Christoph caught himself before he said something truly unforgivable. ‘I do not insist, Daphne. I am your husband. I am not a monster.’

That gained a small smile, at least. ‘But you wish to…to consummate the marriage. Tonight.’

‘It would prevent any chance of the marriage being annulled.’ That was it, focus on the legalities. Nothing else. ‘It would prevent you from being sent back to the Wallflower Academy.’

He did not know what had made him say it. Divine inspiration, perhaps. Perhaps he had read her better than he had thought, for at his words Daphne looked up at Christoph with a sharp look.

‘I do not want to go back.’

‘And I do not want to lose…’ You . ‘Your hand. So…shall we?’

Christoph rose. Better to get it over with. Better to get her upstairs, sink himself into her, sob with joy, and… Wait, no . He couldn’t think about it like that.

Daphne did not mirror him. ‘B-before we go upstairs, I… I think we should talk about it. Some rules, if…if you will.’

Christoph sank back into the armchair. ‘You wish to negotiate?’

That gained a smile, a real one, and the vision of Daphne smiling with genuine delight warmed him. ‘Yes, I suppose so. Are…are there any rules you wish to propose?’

She really was a mystery. There was a no-nonsense demeanour about the woman now, almost businesslike. She made it rather hard to concentrate.

Yes. Keep it simple.

‘Well, we only need to make love once. To make sure. After that, there are no expectations.’

Daphne nodded, as though she approved of his suggestion. Christoph fought hard not to glow with pride. ‘Agreed. No…no cuddling. I will depart from your bed chamber the moment it…it is over. I presume we have separate bedchambers?’

Christoph had no idea, but there appeared to be plenty of room. ‘To be sure, I can agree to that. Any other stipulations?’

He watched as she considered. There was an intelligence there, a raw one—one hardly tried, from what he could see. Her eyes flickered as she considered, evidently looking for ways to reduce the experience as much as possible.

Despite himself, Christoph found he was a tad piqued. He might not be the most experienced man in Christendom—fine. He was not experienced at all. But he had read books. Heard other men talk about it. Had a vague idea of what a woman wanted.

He certainly knew what he wanted.

The fire crackled between them as Daphne finally said slowly, ‘And no…no kissing.’

That was a surprise. ‘No kissing?’

He had not intended to repeat her words so baldly, so he was not astonished when Daphne flushed a dark red.

‘No kissing my lips. This is not a love match, as you have made perfectly clear. When I kiss a man, I wish to kiss him because of the affection between us. We are married, so now I will never kiss a man who loves me.’

Her words became weak at the end, and Christoph’s heart broke for her. He had done this. He had forced her, manoeuvred her father and her into a marriage to the royal line of Niedernlein, all for their wealth and position in Society.

And to protect Daphne, in a way. And give himself a future. But still; it was his desires, his intentions, which had brought her here, into a marriage where she would never be loved.

He owed her this.

‘One time only,’ Christoph said, ticking off their agreements on his fingers. ‘No cuddling. Immediate departure. No kissing on the lips.’

Daphne nodded, gaze averted. ‘Yes. Agreed.’

A strange sort of silence fell between them, muffling out all other sounds. So, they had reached an agreement. Now all they had to do was…follow the rules.

Christoph rose slowly and held out his hand. ‘Shall we?’

This time Daphne did not shrink from him, but neither did she speak. She rose in complete silence, took his hand and walked willingly with him out of the drawing room to the hall.

Christoph had not expected his heart to beat so rapidly, nor his nerves to return with such ferocity.

She doesn’t know it’s your first time, he tried to remind himself. And she hasn’t… She certainly won’t know what to do. She won’t have any expectations .

It did not seem to matter. His pulse was thundering, making it difficult to think.

To breathe. By the time they reached the bedchamber door, however, Christoph had regained the tight control over himself which he had practised all his adult life.

This was an agreement, an arrangement—with limitations carefully negotiated. He just had to get through it.

‘After you,’ he said, his voice somehow hoarse.

There was a momentary flash of a smile on Daphne’s face—why, he did not know. She reached out and opened the door to reveal…the largest four-poster bed Christoph had ever seen.

‘Good,’ he said aloud, as though that would be helpful. ‘So… I suppose we should undress.’

Just for a moment, there was a teasing smile on Daphne’s face. ‘You suppose?’

It was gone in an instant, her horror clear that she had said such a thing. Been so forward. So attractive.

Christoph tried to keep his face impassive. ‘Yes. Clothes off. I’ll… I’ll let you sort yourself out.’

Sort herself out? Come on, man! That had been the perfect opportunity to step closer, to inhale her, to touch her…

‘I’ll need your help,’ Daphne said quietly, turning round to show him her back and the complex knots of her gown.