Bound by Bliss (35 page)

“No, you didn’t dance with me at my coming-out ball the next year. I am not even sure that you attended. I’d spent that whole year working up my courage to talk to you again, to ask you to kiss me again. I was willing to try one more time, to see if we could find that place that came so easily to us when we were younger. I was going to persuade you that we should be—be friends again. I was prepared to do whatever it took to make you see me, to make you understand me. And you didn’t even attend. It was my coming-out ball. The most important thing to happen to me up until that point in time and you didn’t bother to come. I felt like you were telling me that I meant nothing to you.”

He’d been at the ball, but only for fifteen minutes, just long enough for Swanston to tell him that if he touched his sister they’d both be bloody in the morning. It was right after the first time they’d run into each other at Ruby’s and Duldon had not blamed him, not in the least. He couldn’t tell Bliss that, however. “I was there. You wore a dress of white with silver lace and more silver in your hair. I almost believed you were an angel, that you would spread you wings and fly far away from us all.”

“If you were there why did you not dance with me? One simple dance on the most important night of my life.”

“Was it really the most important?”

“No, of course not, but I didn’t know that then. I was a young girl who’d been taught that this and my wedding day were of vital importance. I truly thought I would die when you did not come. I felt that everybody I cared about left me—and you were just one more. You tell me that I should believe in love, well, I did believe then. If you had come to me that night I would have been ready to love you, to believe you were the prince of my childhood. But you did not come—even if you say you were there—you did not come to me. You did not tell me that you were proud. You did not tell me that I was beautiful. You didn’t smile at me as I walked down the long stairs into the ballroom, certain I would trip over my feet or that I would spill wine over my dress, or heaven forbid, somebody else’s. I knew that if something awful happened Swanston would find fault in me and that my father might not even notice. You were the one I thought would make it better. I needed you and you were not there.” Her emotions rang deep and true.

He wished he could go back in time and change his actions, wished he could take all the ache and pain away from her heart. He wasn’t sure how he could have changed them, but somehow he would have found a way.

He trailed his fingers from her shoulder down her back, stopping just above the curve of her buttocks. Leaning forward, he nuzzled the back of her neck. “I am sorry. I truly am.”

“And you think that makes it better?” Her words were still strong, but he could feel her soften against him.

“I know that it doesn’t, but it is all I have. I was young and foolish, as were you. I would do things differently now. I would cherish you as you deserve. I am doing the best I can to help take away your burdens, to wash your mind clean of fear and doubt.”

She made a noncommittal mumble.

Another kiss, just below her hairline. “I cannot change time, Bliss. I wish I had been your first kiss. I wish I had danced with you at your ball. Nothing would make me happier. I’ve done very little in my life that I regret, but I do regret that I did not understand at the Daremoors’ what I do now. I am sorry I was blind to what you were feeling, that I was too caught up in my own desires to see yours. I am sorry that I thought we had all the time in the world, when you felt that we had reached an ending. I am sorry that I was not there for you, that I did not understand that you needed me there. I am sorry I did not know all that I know now.”

Her whole body grew still, and then she turned to him. “And what is it that you know now, Stephan? What lesson have you learned that should make me forgive you?”

The words he would speak next were of utmost importance. He considered them with care. “I have learned that life is short. For some it takes a great tragedy to learn this. I have no such story, but it has been pressed into my heart all the same. Life is short. I do not want to miss things. I have already missed that kiss and that dance. I know you have mourned them for years, but my pain in realizing that I missed them is just as great. I want those memories, but I cannot have them. I refuse to spend time regretting that. I would rather look to the future, to the memories I want to make with you, Bliss. Memories like this night. Memories that I will treasure always. If something happened and I never saw you again, I would still have this. Do you understand? We can live in fear and regret or we can claim our future. I want to claim everything I can and hold on to it as tightly as I can. I will always treasure you, Bliss. Can you not trust me enough to take a chance?”

A soft sigh left her and her shoulders relaxed. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice trembling.

“Trust me. Trust us. I have never had a night as wonderful as this. It was a night of bliss, in more ways than one.”

A tiny giggle. That was progress.

“I am very glad that you told me. Now, do you think we can put it behind us?”

Bliss rolled over so that she could look up into his eyes. He could see the uncertainty lurking in her gaze. “I want to, but even if I do, what does that change?”

“Everything.” He filled his voice with confidence.

Her chest rose and fell, her eyes stayed locked on his. “Are you sure? It’s been so long since I trusted anyone but myself.”

“You can trust me, Bliss. I will not let you down. I will not leave you. You have already trusted me with your body. You knew that I would not do anything that you could not handle. You looked into my eyes and saw what I would do and you did not flinch. Did not ask to be released—and yet, you knew at even the smallest gesture I would stop, I would let you go. If you can trust me that far, can you not trust me a little further?”

She buried her face in his chest. “I just don’t know.”

He’d never seen her so tender, so vulnerable. Had he succeeded in tearing down her walls? “Bliss”—he placed a finger under her chin, raising her eyes to his—“will you marry me? I will not force you to feel things you don’t want to, but I want to start making those memories.”

She stared into him. He could feel her searching and could only hope that she found what she sought.

Her lips parted then closed. Her fingers grabbed his shoulder and she could feel them clench tight.

“Don’t be afraid, Bliss. Whatever you choose, I will understand.”

Her fingers relaxed slightly, but did not let go.

There was absolute silence between them for several moments.

He waited unsure of what would follow.

Again she parted her lips and then shut them.

He could feel the words she wanted to say and could not.

Finally she took a deep breath. “I am not a foolish child. I have reasons for feeling as I do, for feeling as I did.”

“I have never thought you were foolish, Bliss. And if I thought you were a child at seventeen, I certainly don’t now. You have explained your feelings to me and I understand them, even if I do not agree. You are too wonderful a woman to settle for less than you deserve and a comfortable marriage is less than you deserve. I want you, Bliss. I need you, Bliss. But if you do not think that I can make you happy then find someone who can. Do not choose someone just because they don’t make you tingle, don’t make you want more. Choose someone who will make life an adventure. You are too full of life to be ordinary.”

She pushed herself up on her elbows. “Sometimes I think you see me too well, Stephan. It can be a little scary.”

“I want only what is best for you, Bliss.”

She bit down on her lower lip, chewing slightly on the already swollen flesh. “I begin to believe you.”

“To trust me?”

“Perhaps.” She bit down hard, her teeth indenting the lush curve.

He could see the consideration in her gaze, feel the measurement of her words. “Do you really want what is best for me, want to make me happy?”

He reached out and stroked her lip, gentling the bite of her teeth. “Yes, always.”

She drew in a deep long breath, held it, released it slowly. “Then, yes, I will marry you, Stephan. I will.”

Chapter Twenty-four

Bliss opened one blurry eye and then the other. Her body ached. She could not remember ever feeling like this before. Her shoulders. Her breasts. Her thighs. Every piece of her made itself known. She opened the other eye and stared dimly up at herself in the mirror. The room was dark except for one sputtering candle—and she did not want to think about candles—but it was enough to see that she looked much the worse for wear. Her skin was pallid, with dark shadows beneath the barely open eyes. Her hair was a tangle, a witch’s broom, the curls a riot about her head. She looked like she’d had exactly the night she’d had.

A weight shifted in the bed beside her.

Oh God, what had she done?

With painful recollection all the events of the night flowed back to her.

She couldn’t have. She really couldn’t have.

But she had. She truly had.

Her stomach roiled.

She couldn’t even blame it all on too much drink. Not a single drop had passed her lips.

She glared down at her tender body, at all the evidence of their night of play. Memories of the night surrounded her, memories of ecstasy, memories of honesty. Of such honesty.

Her eyes snapped closed. Maybe she was still dreaming. She could not, would not have said yes. She protected herself and always had. Saying yes to Duldon would be foolishness. And yes, in the cold light of morning he was Duldon again. If only she hadn’t let herself think of him as Stephan during the long hours of the night. Stephan was the boy she had cared for so much and the young man she had trusted. Duldon was…

She couldn’t even think about what Duldon was.

And was it morning? What time?

Surely Duldon would have woken her in time to get home before the maids came with morning tea? She could only be glad that at this time of year there were no fires to be lit.

What time was it?

The room had no windows, no clue that the world outside even existed.

She took a peek at Duldon. He lay buried in the covers, only a small portion of his face peering out, and he was dead asleep. He looked as if a marching army wouldn’t wake him.

She’d really tired him out. Her mouth started to curl up in satisfaction, but she tamped it down. She would not take pride in the fact, she wouldn’t.

With some care she eased from the bed, worried of waking him. He grunted. He groaned. He muttered something that sounded far too much like her name as he grabbed a pillow and snuggled into it. And then with a snort, he settled back to sleep.

Her clothing still lay in the pile where she had left it. Donning it quickly, she rejoiced that she had thought to wear a simple gown that required no maid to help with the laces. The thought of wandering about Madame Rouge’s searching for help was beyond her.

Quickly she ran her fingers through her hair, doing her best to tuck and smooth the unruly strands. A few scattered pins mixed in with her clothing and she shoved them in slightly haphazardly. Placing the cloak about her shoulders, Bliss glanced about looking for the mask. Steph—Duldon’s clothing lay neatly folded on a side table. Why did that not surprise her? She hadn’t seen him do it, but things about him just always fell into place. The mask was not there.

Not wanting to waste any further time, she pulled the cloak’s hood up and carefully walked to the door, not wanting any squeak of board or heavy step to wake her sleeping prince.

No. No. No. Do not think of him that way. No.

Easing the door open she slid through, holding her breath for any sound from the bed. There were a few soft, endearing snores, but no other noise. Closing the door behind her, she lay her head against the cool dark wood and closed her eyes.

What would happen if she stayed? Would it really be so terrible?

Perhaps it was still the mid-hours of the night and she could have hours more with Stephan before needing to make any decision. If all she did was lie beside him and watch him sleep, it would be one more memory to treasure in the years to come. She shook herself. If that was what she wanted she should never have risen from the bed. If he realized that she’d left and come back the statement in that would be too strong.

She had to leave. She did.

Still she did not move.

Why couldn’t she marry him?

She’d said she would and she’d always tried to stand by her word. He would make the world a safe place for her. He had promised to. He had promised to never leave her and she’d never known him to lie. As the thought filled her mind, she could feel his soft arms wrap about her, feel his warmth, feel all that he would offer her. All she had to do was reach out and take.

Only she could not.

Fear might be the only thing holding her back. Silly, stupid fear. She recognized that now, but she was not strong enough to overcome that fear. For a few moments last night, Stephan might have broken a hole in her wall, but now that gap had been filled in.

A lifetime of worry could not be overcome in a single night, a single hour.

Tears rose in her eyes, but she held them back. Straightening her shoulders, she prepared to move.

Only she didn’t. It felt like glue held her to the door, held her to Stephan.

Blinking back the tears, she forced herself away, forced herself to turn, to take that first step—and then that second.

She had planned her life and Duldon was not part of it. Marriage was not part of it. Perhaps that was where she’d made her mistake. Why had she ever agreed to marry at all? Swanston might yell and scream. He might even cut her allowance or force her to stay at Risusgate until she was of age, but he could not leave her destitute, even if he wished to. She could sell that hated strand of pearls, pearl by pearl if necessary.

Another tear slid down her cheek. She reached up to brush it off, the hood sliding back to her shoulders. Her hand moved back to pull it back into place. At this moment she didn’t care who saw her, didn’t care who knew, but some deep-seated desire for self-preservation still survived. She would not do that to herself, to her family.