Just One Kiss (25 page)

“I do, Edward,” Daphne said sadly.  “I just think you want me back for all of the wrong reasons.”

Chapter 26

Edward opened his mouth, but Daphne didn’t hear what he said as he was drowned out by a nearby rumble of thunder.  Daphne gave a little start of surprise, and then offered an embarrassed giggle, but when she glanced up at Edward’s face she started again.  He looked- Daphne wasn’t even quite sure how to describe his expression; she’d never seen anything quite like it before –haunted, she supposed was the best way to describe it.

“Edward?  What is it?  What’s wrong?” Daphne asked nervously.

“The thunder,” he mumbled, “I thought-” but then he shook his head firmly and seemed to come back to normal a little. 

Daphne suddenly r
ecalled what he had said before
about thunder reminding him of cannon fire.  She had tried never to think of Edward in battle.  It had been too hard, too painful, and yet she hadn’t been able to stop herself from following the military campaign with a sort of morbid fascination.  “It reminds you of-” she began to ask, but Edward cut her short sharply.

“You’ll
have
to come back to the house now,” he said, looking with a kind of grim satisfaction out on the rain that was now pouring down outside. 

Daphne sighed, but she nodded.  At least the rain would be able to conceal their already
disheveled
appearances.  She watched as Edward pulled on his shirt, his waistcoat, and pocketed his tie, before he turned to her again.  His eyes still looked terribly bleak, she noticed with a pang.

“Come on then,” he said reaching for her hand.  Daphne hesitated, but only for a second.  Edward’s strong fingers wrapped around her much more delicate wrist as he tugged her out of the orangery and into the summer storm.

The rain was refreshing, but they had barely taken a few steps before they were both absolutely soaked to the skin.  Daphne heard Edward mutter a curse as he hurried her along, dragging his wife behind him as they made a dash towards the house. 

Fortunately, Packwood House wasn’t very far away, and even more fortunately, as far as Daphne was concerned at any rate, Edward led her through one of the house’s side door, avoiding the need to deal with the servants, at least for the time being.

They stopped and caught their breath in a
cozy
little sitting room that Daphne remembered from her childhood.  It was lit at intervals by brilliant bursts of lightning that tore across the dark sky outside.  Each one of these dazzling flashes was followed by a rumble of thunder so loud and close that the walls of the house themselves seemed to shake.

Daphne looked to Edward, unnerved by his stiff posture.  It was as if he wasn’t there with her, but locked in some f
araway
memory from which she was excluded.  The silence between them was growing unbearable, so Daphne found herself mumbling quietly:  “I’m sorry to drip all over your floor.”

Edward blinked and looked at her, and then at the puddles that they were both leaving on the polished wood.  “It’s not my floor.  It’s our floor,” he corrected her, clearly making an effort to fight away his demons.  Daphne felt a little thrill at his words, but she lost him again with the next flash of lightning.

“Is it truly so bad?” she whispered, taking a step towards Edward and laying her hand on his arm.

“What do you mean?” he frowned.

“Whatever you’re remembering?  It is really so bad?” she pressed gently.

Edward raised his eyes to hers, tearing them away from watching her fingers flexing on his shirtsleeve.  “You have no idea,” he breathed hoarsely, sending a shiver skating down his wife’s spine.

And she didn’t, Daphne
realize
d, Edward’s voice wasn’t harsh or condemning, he didn’t seem to be angry with her for reaching out to him.  He was just stating the simple truth - which was that his wife couldn’t even begin to comprehend the horrors that he had experienced.

“No,” she said softly.  “I don’t.”  She gave his arm a gentle squeeze.  “But you can still talk to me about it.  If you want to that is.”

“Talk?” Edward echoed his wife, puzzling over the word as if its meaning were completely alien to him.  “I- I don’t think so,” he sighed, shaking his head and shuddering.

Daphne gave her head a sad little nod, but she didn’t let go of Edward’s arm.  “Well, if you change your mind I’ll always be here,” she said softly.

“Will you?” Edward’s lips quirked upward just a fraction.  “So does that mean you’re staying?”

“I- I didn’t mean- I just meant-”

“That you’re leaving me too?” he asked, his voice raw and hollow.

Daphne opened her mouth, about to point out that
he
had been the one to leave her all those years ago, but she didn’t think that was quite what he meant.  He wandered over to the window, resting one arm against the wall as he stared out at the rain, leaning his forehead up against the glass.

“Edward?” Daphne breathed, chewing her bottom lip anxiously.  She took a step after him, resting a hand on his back, and then, when that wasn’t enough, she slipped her arms around his waist and held onto her husband, laying her head against his back, whispering his name again and again until he turned around and held her in his arms.

“I don’t want to lose you, Daff,” he sighed heavily.  “I- I don’t think that I can lose you,” he growled tightening his hold on her.  “I’ve lost so many people,” he breathed, clenching his eyes shut, relieved when Daphne clung to him all the tighter.

“William?  Soldiers?” she whispered hesitantly.  “F-friends?” she corrected, and felt Edward’s body tense.

“I saw so many man die that I thought I’d become immune to it,” he murmured,
his voice frighteningly even
and devoid of emotion.  “But it wasn’t that- it was-” he paused for a moment to think.  “It’s- it sounds ridiculous, but it’s like when you step into a bath of water that’s too hot.  For a moment you feel nothing, nothing’s wrong, and then a second later it hits you, a pain so unbearable that you have to leap out again.  Only I can’t get out.”  His grip on Daphne became almost painful, but she didn’t try to push away.  “I can’t get out, Daff,” he choked, clinging to her like a man drowning.

“You will.  You can!” she argued, holding him tight.  “I’ll help you!” she declared, looking up into his tortured face, and then fearing that she was giving herself too much power.  “If you- if you think I can at least?” she added softly.

“I think that you might be the only thing that
can
help me,” Edward sighed gruffly.  He knew that it was wrong to take advantage of Daphne in such a manner,
but frankly
he was getting desperate. 

She offered him a hesitant little smile and then stood
on
her tiptoes to dot a kiss against his cheek.  “Do you think that maybe I could borrow a towel?” she murmured stiltedly, blushing slightly as she asked.

Edward grinned, a second ago he’d thought that he might never smile again, and yet here he was smiling.  “Of course, I’ll ring for-”

“No!” Daphne shrieked, but it was too late because Edward had already
tugged on
the bell pull.  She stared at him in horror.  “Edward,” she whimpered.  “They’ll
see
me here!”

Edward couldn’t help but frown.  He didn’t see why that was quite the catastrophe that Daphne was making it out to be.  She
was
his wife, and this
was
technically her house after all!  “You can hide under the table if you wish,” he said dryly, “but I should warn you, Eldridge is rather prompt, so you’d better dive under there now if you mean to.”

Daphne turned a delightful pink, even if she did look as though she was battling the desire to make some sort
of
defense
for
herself.  Whether it was her compassion from the moment before, or the fear of the butler walking into the room, which was stopping her
from
doing so, Edward would never know, for Eldridge did walk into the sitting room at just that moment. 

Edward had to hand it to the aging servant.  He didn’t even blink when he found his master soaked to the skin and with a young lady who was similarly drenched… he wondered if Eldridge
recognize
d that young lady in question?  The
re was only one way to find out.

“Eldridge,
Lady Coventry
would like a towel,” he said evenly.  Edward couldn’t quite decide if it was annoyance or satisfaction he felt at the man’s slight raise of the eyebrows.

“Lady Coventry?” he bowed in Daphne’s direction, recovering admirably. “Would you care for a… towel yourself my lord?” asked Eldridge, surveying the scene with a look of a man who knew that someone was going to have to clean the mess up.  “And some tea and refreshments perhaps?”

“Excellent idea, Eldridge,” Edward nodded.  He was feeling a little hungry after hisexertions in the orangery.

“And-” the butler hesitated, casting a glance in Dap
hne’s direction.  “The Countess’
rooms, should I-”

“Towels and refreshments will be fine, Eldridge,” Edward said curtly.  The butler gave an apologetic nod, and left the couple alone.

“Oh dear,” Daphne whimpered.  “What must he think?”

Edward’s frown returned with a vengeance. 
Why
did it matter?  And what exactly
was
there to think?
  He made some noncommittal grunt and wandered over to the window again. 
Edward was grateful that t
he storm was pas
sing, he
was afraid
it meant that
Daphne would make her excuses and leave soon.

“I was thinking about your paintings,” he blurted, not precisely because he had been thinking about them, but because he wanted to engage her in conversation again. 

Conversation
, Edward thought wryly,
when had he ever wanted to have a
conversation
with a woman before?

“What about my paintings?” Daphne asked uncertainly.  She was playing absently with a damp ribbon that had become untied from somewhere on her dress, twining it around and around her finger nervously.

“I was wondering if I could see them?” Edward said slowly.  It seemed like the logical thing for one to ask if one had been thinking about someone’s paintings after all.  “Daphne?” he pressed, when she didn’t immediately say anything.

“Why- why would you want to do that?” she asking, chewing her bottom lip, which was a little habit of hers that was fast becoming completely endearing to Edward.

“Well isn’t that why people paint?” he frowned mildly.  “So that other people can see their work?”

Daphne looked at him thoughtfully for a second, but then she shook her head.  “I don’t think so, no,” sh
e said slowly.  “I mean, that
’s the only reason at least.”

“Oh?” Edward coaxed her to say more.  He went to sit down on a plush, upholstered chair, but remembered himself just in time.  “What are the other reasons then?” he asked, genuinely curious now.

“Well, for pure enjoyment, escapism-” Daphne began, ticking them off on her fingers.

“Is that why you paint?” Edward interrupted gently.

Daphne fluttered her lashes in surprise.  “I- I suppose so,” she admitted, and then Eldridge returned before Edward could press her any further. 

He handed out towels and then laid out the tea, offering to pour, but Edward assured him that they could serve themselves.  The door had barely shut before Edward was stripping off his waistcoat and pulling off his shirt.

“Edward!” Daphne squeaked, averting her eyes, although heaven knows why.  “What are you
doing
?” she gasped.