Chapter 18
Chapter Eighteen
The unforgiving rigidity that defined Wolfcrest for years did not vanish in that one night of passion. However, it did fracture into millions of pieces. Something solid and certain also manifested after that shared intimacy: the door separating their chambers being permanently open.
No more walls.
No more boundaries.
At least, not between them.
The changes in Wolfcrest were tangible. Adrian no longer rose before dawn to retreat to his study, nor did he return home so late after his nocturnal responsibilities were done. Instead, they slept and woke at about the same time. It was getting more difficult for him to leave her.
Whenever the sun rose in the morning, he no longer immediately pulled away. Instead, he would tighten his grip on her waist and bury his face in her neck. Waking up to her scent was now his favorite thing in the world, next to making love whenever they could.
“I want to stay here,” he murmured one morning, as she took him inside her and rode him gently, as if to wake them up.
“I’d like that,” she said, as she lowered herself on him once more. Her words sounded like sighs. “But the world needs us, especially you, the Duke of Wolfcrest.”
“The world can wait,” he said, before pulling her down so that her back was on the bed and he could control his thrusts better.
She agreed with her moans, as he moved in and out of her faster. He loved how she clenched around him, pulling him in. So tight. He loved how responsive she was and how she would bite his shoulder to keep herself from screaming.
“Let them hear, darling,” he urged.
“No. Yes. No,” she responded, confused, and pleasured, until she reached her release once more.
The languid mornings had become part of their routine. They could enjoy moments of slow lovemaking or frenzied sessions, but they always ended up sated before breakfast and after dinner, and sometimes, in-between.
The afternoons they stayed at home, Adrian would make sure he checked on her as she read or navigated the halls of Wolfcrest, always finding things to do.
However, the true honeymoon was not just in their frequent, intense activities in the bedchamber but also in their melding of minds, through sharing their stories.
“I do not really enjoy playing cards,” he admitted one night as they sat in the drawing room together. His wife stilled her hand because she had been on the verge of dealing another round of Vingt-et-un.
“You do not like card games?” Daphne laughed lightly. “How is that possible?”
Adrian shrugged. “My father squandered our family fortune at a card table.”
She frowned. “And yet, until quite recently, you spent all your nights at a gaming hell.” She eyed him inquisitively. “What did you do there, if you were not playing card games?”
“Attending to business matters… Trying to keep myself distant from you… from everything that counted.”
“I am so sorry,” she whispered. “You should not have been suffering through all your grievances alone.”
“It’s not your fault. Without you, I would still be alone.”
“You never tried to find someone to…”
She hesitated then. He knew she was not certain what they had was real. Not really. He could not blame her.
“To love? To marry? No. I was too preoccupied with seeking revenge and righting the wrongs in my world.”
“You have done well, Adrian. You saved me from an awful man who would have forced me into a miserable marriage,” she replied. “That is certainly a point in your favor—even if you do not like to keep score.”
She shuffled the deck of cards in her hands again, then held a card aloft. “Shall we play on or should I take the hint and desist?”
Adrian grinned at her. “Might we talk rather than play?”
“Very well.” Daphne laid the cards on the tabletop and leaned toward him. “What should we discuss next? Will you tell me now that you have never enjoyed roasted lamb and that the taste of cider makes you cringe?”
She fluttered her thick eyelashes at him flirtatiously.
“What if we focus on you?” He propped his elbows on the table so that only a small space existed between them. “Anything on your mind tonight?”
“Tonight? Because we finally got some rest?” she asked, a little teasingly, but blushing deep red, anyway, at her own insinuation.
“Yes, Daphne. Now that you know all there is to know about me, including my aversion to card games and dislike for lamb chops…”
Her mouth dropped open.
She sucked in a breath of disbelief. “You do not mean to say that I guessed rightly? You…”
“Let us focus on you, my dear.” He picked up her hand and grazed her knuckle with a soft kiss. “Tell me some of your secrets.”
“I have none. You already know more about me than any other living soul. Outside of my siblings, that is.”
“Daphne…” Adrian drew her name out long, coaxing her to be honest.
“Very well,” she huffed. “As you already know, I was the obedient daughter. My mother had high hopes for me. Because I followed all her instructions, she expected me to marry well. And quickly. She often wondered out loud if I was trying to destroy my own chances. She said I was pretty, and could play the pianoforte masterfully. I was polite. Why was I not getting chosen? Then, suddenly, I had a suitor—a persistent one.”
There was no need to mention Briarwood’s name. It hung between them.
“He intimidated my other suitors, some more suitable than he,” she continued. “Then, you came to save me. I expected another prison, a beautiful one, but a prison, nonetheless. I never expected… this.”
“A prison is not what you deserve. Everyone should know who you are. And what you mean to me.”
“Well, I still believe the scandal sheets will deem you a criminal, Adrian,” Daphne said, tracing his features with her index finger. “They will accuse you of manipulating the seasons.”
The Duke laughed out loud. “What does that mean? What benefit should I receive from postponing spring, Duchess?”
“You mean to keep me indoors, naturally, without anyone questioning your motives,” she replied, with a big grin.
“Oh. I do not care what they think, Duchess. If they knew the truth about why we are so often locked in this house, they would be envious. Positively envious.”
He kissed her once more to prove the strength of his ardor.
The young married couple eventually had to leave their bedchamber and the confines of their townhouse. It was not because they were tired of each other. No, not at all. Each night was still full of passion. Even the more experienced Adrian admitted not having felt this insatiable before.
“You just want me to do what you say,” Daphne teased.
“I didn’t have to tell you that to make you give in, and you know it, Duchess.”
“The sheer arrogance!” she exclaimed, wondering if she’d end up shedding the gown she had just put on with the help of her maid.
Their first priority was to reconnect with Daphne’s family, while they were in the throes of honeymoon bliss. They hosted a dinner at the townhouse, where all Brightons were welcomed.
Cautious relief and blatant curiosity dominated the atmosphere. Wilhelmina’s eyes shone as she met Daphne’s own.
“You look happy,” she mouthed, while the others were preoccupied with their own conversations.
Victoria seemed mischievously quiet. Her smirk seemed to say, “You must tell me what’s going on, twin sister.”
Daniel, as Daphne’s older brother and Marquess of Grisham, seemed to be sterner than the others, but that was not wholly unusual.
For many years, really once he had become the head of the family, Daniel’s demeanor had taken on a serious and protective edge.
So, he kept his tone cool throughout the evening and no one questioned him.
“I hope that you will remain vigilant, Wolfcrest,” he advised his brother-in-law at one point while the first course was being cleared and there was a brief lull in the more energetic bits of conversation.
“I’ve heard about your newfound domesticity.
I hope that it does not compromise your strategy.
I know that you, uh, have your various businesses to attend to and a villainous Earl willing to barge at your door. ”
Adrian did not take offense, Daphne could tell. Her husband remained calm and jolly. He met her brother’s gaze with his amber stare.
“Oh, I am even more careful now, Grisham. I do not trifle with the safety of those I care about. Daphne’s security is always the priority.”
“While I have no plans to marry anytime soon,” the Marquess of Amberwell began with a laugh, as he raised his glass, “I am simply happy for Wolfcrest, who is spending more time with his wife than his ledgers these days. At least, that is what I heard—for I rarely see him anymore. Yes,” he simpered playfully, “pity me, for I am the lost and broken friend who has been cast aside in favor of a beautiful, brighter companion.”
Victoria laughed loudly and lifted her own goblet high. “I’ll raise a toast to that!” She indicated all the others should join her. “To seeking beauty and enjoying oneself with the brightest and most charming companion!”
“Here, here!” roared Dominic playfully. The others chorused the chant, then quaffed their cups.
The rest of the dinner went well, with everyone welcoming and accepting Adrian into the family with more warmth than before.
And, every time Daphne’s eyes met her husband’s, she was filled with pleasure—pleasure like she had never known before.
Later that week, Daphne urged Adrian to follow her to the music room. She sat at the piano forte, fully aware of the way her husband’s eyes widened expectantly.
“I have something for you,” she said softly. “You have shared so much of your pain, and your life before you became the Wolf that I want to give something back to you.”
“You’ve given me so much more, Daphne,” he reminded her.
She smiled, then, and proceeded to play the small composition she’d written.
It began with wistful, melancholic notes, ever so gentle.
Then, the melody progressed, turning into sorrow.
She felt her tears fall to her cheeks as she imagined what it must have been like for her husband to lose someone he loved, someone so pure.
The notes later soared to something more hopeful and uplifting, like an emotional resurrection.
When she finished, she could still hear her heart pounding hard in her chest and in her ears.
The final, perfect chord faded into delicate silence.
She chanced a look at Adrian. He was sitting on the edge of his chair, his face a mixture of emotions: sadness, awe, and, perhaps, hope.
The hope that she had tried to add to the musical composition.
He rose to stand next to her, his fingers fumbling for the sheet music. He nodded as if finding his confirmation when he saw the title of the piece: Cassandra.
“It’s beautiful,” he finally managed. Even though he tried to hide it, Daphne could still detect the thick emotion behind his words. “The music—it… it sounds like her. It is her. Thank you, Daphne.”
He reached for her hands and kissed her knuckles and then her palms. She’d been praised for her music before.
Men admired her skills and applauded her efforts so they could get closer to her, but Adrian did not have to do that.
What came out of him was more than anyone had given her: appreciation, understanding, and worship.
Daphne knew that she would do anything for him, if only he’d let her.
“I am glad,” was all she could say then.