Chapter 8 #3
“Daphne is not like most women,” Adrian declared, his tone conveying his pride.
He had known from the moment that he first met her that she was unique and was pleased that she had yet to disappoint or disrupt this first impression.
But she was also more than a strong, stalwart woman who stood out easily in a crowd.
Adrian could not name precisely what it was that set Daphne apart from her peers, but he did not shy away from conducting further analysis of her behavior.
“She does not submit well to flirtation. Instead, she uses my words to practice her wit and deflects all my attempts to seduce her. She is guarded. Yet, at the same time, she wants to know more about my activities, especially the ones after dark.”
“A curious woman will always have a healthy respect for ferreting out secrets. Perhaps, you need to stay longer with your duchess if you don’t want her stepping out of the walls to find out what you’ve been doing.
Go home and make peace with her.” Caleb’s tone might still be lighthearted, but he sounded sincere when he gave his advice.
Adrian drained what seemed to be his third glass of whiskey. The liquor did nothing to ease the storm inside of him. “I will go home but I cannot tell her everything she wants to know. I must keep my own counsel on certain matters.”
“Naturally,” his friend said matter-of-factly, his gaze seemingly focused on his glass.
The Duke had no response for that quip. It was already late, and perhaps, it was for everyone’s best interest that he went home.
Having arrived at the manor after the tavern’s smoke and stale air, Wolfcrest felt somehow different. The house felt warmer and softer. When he entered the foyer, he got a whiff of lilacs and roses.
Does Daphne ever rest, or does she spend day and night furnishing this place with fresh vases of flowers?
He might have drunk some whiskey, but he wasn’t entirely ready to sleep. He wanted motivation that required no further thought. So, he strode toward his study but before he could reach the room, he heard something coming from across the main hall.
It was music.
It was not just any kind of fumbling and pattering over the keys. No, the sound was beautiful and haunting, carried by hands that were skilled and passionate. Yet, there was also melancholy in the tune. It ran deep through the melody. He could feel the despondency resounding in his chest.
No, this was no maid practicing a simple song she’d heard somewhere. It was someone who had trained on the pianoforte and was revealing much of her heart on the keys with practiced grace and perfection.
All his plans flew out the window. He paused and listened, following the source. The strains of sound drew him to the music room, which had been mostly abandoned recently. Its door was slightly ajar.
Quietly and surreptitiously, he opened the door just a little bit more to peek inside.
There, oblivious to his presence, sat Daphne at the piano forte.
She wore a robe over her simple, dove-gray night gown.
Her hair was mostly loose over her shoulders with only a few strands left pinned in place.
Just as he had dared to envision earlier, his wife had allowed some of her long locks to fall out of place.
He was entranced by the way the soft curls draped over her shoulders and caressed her neck.
She was completely lost to the music, her back ramrod straight but her head slightly bowed. Her fingers moved over the keys with ease, hitting the notes of a complex nocturne.
Mournful and emotional, it was not the sort of concerto a mother would have had her daughter trained to play for Society.
Adrian leaned against the doorframe, watching her fingers move across the keys. The way she let herself be lost in the music, so free, so unguarded, was mesmerizing. He knew she carried restraint like armor most of the time, yet here, every note betrayed emotion she never allowed anyone to see.
When the final chord lingered, he stepped inside quietly. “That was… remarkable.” His voice, soft and full of appreciation, broke the spell.
Daphne spun toward him, her hand flying to her mouth, eyes wide. Adrian noticed how quickly the flush of exertion fled her cheeks, leaving her pale. “You startled me, Your Grace! How long have you been there?”
“Long enough,” he said, eyes fixed on her, “to know you’ve been hiding a talent far more powerful than you let others see.”
“I have not hidden it,” she protested, cheeks warming. “I would have told you that I played earlier, but you never asked.”
He stepped closer, tilting his head, watching her like one might watch a flame: both alert and fascinated at the same time. “Hm… Why do I get the feeling that whenever something is personal, you fail to mention it unless forced to do as much?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “It’s nothing. Just practice. A piece I know well.”
He shook his head. “Nothing? You poured yourself into it. Every note… it betrayed a depth of feeling I have not seen you show before. Yearning, courage… You think I would not see all these things? You think I could not hear all the desperation funneled into that performance?”
Daphne’s chest rose and fell more quickly now. Her composure was cracking, and a part of him wanted to lean closer, to see if she’d crumble or meet his gaze.
“You believe you know me after hearing just one song?” she asked, voice quiet, almost incredulous.
“I know enough to want more,” he murmured. “I want to see the fire you hide, even behind discipline and propriety.”
Her pulse was betraying her. He watched the slim line of her neck and saw how the thin skin convulsed as she tried to swallow. She was a paradox: fiercely controlled yet exposed in ways most would never notice.
Her fingers fidgeted at the knot on her robe. “It’s not so simple. You know nothing of what it is to live a life fenced in by rules, by expectations.”
“I know what it means to throw caution to the wind and disregard the rules,” he said, letting his hand hover just near her shoulder.
The lightest brush of his fingers would be plenty to send a shock of arousal flooding through his veins. Just being this close to her had already changed the air between them.
“You think yourself disciplined, untouchable, but even the most controlled flames can burn, Duchess. And I…I want to feel that fire.”
She bit her lip, drawing his attention immediately down to her lovely lips.
“How… I—I don’t know what to say,” she admitted, voice soft, unsteady.
“Then say nothing,” he murmured. “Just feel.”
Her gaze met his, and for a heartbeat, he saw everything.
Restraint, longing, fear, and desire.
He leaned closer, carefully letting her feel the nearness without forcing her.
He watched her inhale sharply before leaning toward him ever so slightly. The heat radiating from her, the way her breath trembled when his fingers brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, made something coil low in his chest.
He did not kiss her, not yet.
He let her feel him, let her choice come, letting anticipation thrum in the space between them.
When she finally leaned toward him a little more, Adrian met her halfway.
And kissed her.
It was not a devouring kiss but a tentative one at first. He didn’t want to scare her but also wanted her to have a chance to push him away if need be. So, he chose a slow but deep claim. Her lips were sweet, and so, so soft.
Perfect.
She was undoubtedly inexperienced, but she responded by instinct, kissing him back. Her arms rose automatically, hands clinging to his lapels to pull him closer as they deepened the kiss.
A strangled sound escaped her throat, but he swallowed it with his lips.
All the tension crashed, making way for passion that they had long suppressed.
Soon, the kiss became demanding. His arms pulled her closer, wrapping around her waist, as he reveled in how soft she was against his hard body.
A body that was growing even harder at the feel of her gentle curves against his solid frame.
Then, she pushed him away.
Startled at Daphne’s reaction, Adrian’s eyes opened wide to see his bride looking panicked. Her eyes were red and tearful, while her chest heaved.
“No, Your Grace,” she choked out. “I… We… This is a mistake.”
One more time, she fled.
This time, the frustration that had been gnawing at him reached greater heights.
He had tasted her and felt her body against his.
There was no going back now.