Chapter 27
“Don’t think about him,” Sophia whispered the words to herself, her eyes fixed on the canopy above her bed.
The silk was pale blue, embroidered with delicate silver thread that caught the firelight.
Beautiful. Expensive. Belonging to a life she still could not believe was hers.
Her heart pounded against her ribs. She lay atop the coverlet in her nightgown and thin robe, her hair loose around her shoulders, waiting.
For what, she was not entirely certain. Edward had not come to her on their wedding night. He had not knocked on the adjoining door and had not claimed his rights as her husband. She had lain awake for hours, tense and terrified, before finally accepting that he would not appear.
Tonight, it might be different.
The fire crackled in the hearth. The clock on the mantel ticked away the seconds. Sophia counted her breaths and tried to calm the racing of her pulse.
A knock sounded at the adjoining door.
She sat up, her fingers clutching the fabric of her robe. “Enter.”
The door swung open. Edward stood in the doorway, silhouetted by the light from his own chambers.
He wore a white shirt, unbuttoned at the collar, the fabric loose enough to reveal the hollow of his throat.
Dark trousers. Bare feet. His hair was disheveled, as though he had been running his hands through it.
Sophia’s mouth went dry.
She had seen him in evening dress, in riding clothes, in the perfectly tailored coats he wore to conduct business. She had never seen him as this undone, this vulnerable. Almost… human.
He stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. His eyes swept over her, taking in her loose hair, her thin robe, and the bare feet tucked beneath her on the bed. Something flickered in his gaze, there and gone before she could name it.
“I wanted to see if you were comfortable.” His voice came out rough. “In your chambers. If everything is to your liking.”
“The chambers are lovely.” Sophia folded her hands in her lap to keep them from trembling. “Thank you.”
“And dinner?” He remained near the door, maintaining the distance between them. “Did you enjoy it?”
“Yes. Oliver was delightful company.”
Silence followed once more. Edward shifted his weight. His jaw tightened.
Sophia understood. He had come to her room but could not bring himself to say why. He could not bring himself to cross the distance and take what was his by right.
Perhaps he needed her to make it easier for him.
And so, she rose from the bed. Her fingers found the sash of her robe and began to untie it.
Edward’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?”
“What you came here for.” She put her hand on her sash.
“Sophia.” It was the first time he had used her Christian name. It felt intimate in a way he had not anticipated, more vulnerable than he would have liked.
She looked up at him. “If we are to be married in truth, I suppose we should dispense with titles. At least in private.”
“Edward, then.” He inclined his head. “When we are alone.”
Sophia pulled the sash free and let it fall. The robe parted, revealing the thin nightgown beneath, the outline of her body visible through the fabric.
Just as she began to slide the robe from her shoulders, Edward crossed the room in three strides. His hands caught the edges of her robe and pulled it back up, covering her. His fingers brushed her collarbone, and heat shot through her.
“Stop.” His voice was strained. “Stop.”
She stared up at him, confusion warring with something that felt dangerously like hurt. “What are you doing?”
“I could ask you the same question.”
“I know what you expected from this marriage.” She kept her voice steady, though her heart raced. “There is no need to be coy about it now. I am your wife; I understand my duties.”
Edward’s grip on her robe tightened. “I am not going to touch you.”
The words landed like a blow. Sophia stepped back, pulling free of his grasp. Her throat tightened.
“You mentioned wanting an heir.”
He nodded, his expression pained.
“So, because I am an old spinster, you cannot bring yourself to touch me?” The words came out sharper than she intended, edged with the insecurity she had carried for seven seasons.
“I am aware that I am not what you would have chosen. That this marriage was born of nothing but necessity. But I did not expect you to find me so repulsive that you cannot even—”
“Repulsive?” Edward’s eyes widened. He stared at her as though she had begun speaking in tongues. “You think I don’t want to touch you?”
“What else am I supposed to gather from this?” Sophia gestured between them. “You come to my room. You ask about the curtains and the soup. And when I try to give you what… what a wife is supposed to give, you tell me to stop.”
Edward made a sound low in his throat. Something between a groan and a laugh, though there was no humor in it. His hand came up to grip the back of his neck, the muscles in his forearm flexing beneath the rolled sleeve of his shirt.
“The problem, Sophia, is not that I do not want to touch you.” His voice dropped, rough and strained. “The problem is that I want you too much.”
She blinked at him. “I don’t understand.”
Edward closed his eyes. When he opened them again, they burned with something she had never seen before. Something dark and hungry and barely leashed.
“I have not stopped thinking about you.” The words seemed to tear themselves from him, raw and unguarded. “Since the balcony. Since I kissed you, and tasted you, and felt you tremble in my arms. I have thought of nothing else.”
Sophia’s breath caught.
“I lie awake at night imagining what it would be like to have you beneath me.” He stepped closer, and she could feel the heat radiating from his body, could see the rapid pulse at the base of his throat. “To feel your skin against mine. To bury myself inside you and hear you cry out my name.”
Her knees went weak. She gripped the bedpost to steady herself.
“I think about your mouth.” His gaze dropped to her lips. “The sounds you might make when I kiss my way down your throat. The way your body would arch into mine if I touched you the way I want to touch you.”
Heat pooled low in her belly. Her skin flushed, warmth spreading across her chest, her neck, her cheeks. No one had ever spoken to her like this. No one had ever looked at her the way Edward was looking at her now, as though she were something precious and dangerous all at once.
“I burn for you, Sophia.” His voice was a rasp now, barely controlled. “I have burned for you since the moment you walked into that ballroom and looked at me like I was nothing more than a problem to be solved.”
She found her voice, though it emerged breathless. “Why is that a problem?”
Edward’s jaw clenched. “Because I was not supposed to marry a woman I burn to claim.”
“Why not?”
“Because it will ruin everything.” His voice cracked on the words. “Because I cannot think clearly when you are near. Because every moment I spend in your presence, I want more. More of your time. More of your attention. More of you.”
They stood inches apart. Sophia could feel his breath against her skin, could see the way his hands trembled at his sides. His eyes dropped to her mouth again, and she watched him sway toward her, watched his head begin to lower.
Her heart stopped.
He was going to kiss her. Here, in her chambers, with the firelight dancing across the walls and the night stretching endlessly before them. He was going to kiss her, and she was going to let him, and everything would change.
Edward jerked back.
He stepped away from her, his chest heaving, his hands curling into fists. The hunger in his eyes warred with something else. Something that looked like fear.
“Goodnight, Sophia.”
He turned and strode toward the adjoining door. His hand closed on the handle. He paused, his back to her, his shoulders rigid.
For a moment, she thought he might turn around. Might come back to her. Might give in to the fire that blazed between them.
Instead, he opened the door and disappeared into his chambers. The door clicked shut behind him.
Sophia stood alone in the firelight, her robe hanging open, her heart pounding, her body aching with a need she had never known existed.
She pressed her fingers to her lips and wondered what it would take to make him stop running away.