Chapter Seventeen

Daphne dressed carefully for the interview. In lieu of a lady’s maid, Annalise was trying to help her. Anna, like Chrys, had wept. She was struggling to accept her decision, but it was difficult.

“I cannot believe you will be gone, Daph. I have grown accustomed to having you about.”

Daphne forced a smile. “I dare say you shall miss finding me in your bed,” she teased.

“Oh, Daphne.”

Daphne slipped into a gown of rich chocolate brown brocade that matched her eyes precisely. The modest bodice and long, fitted sleeves were embroidered with the finest gold thread that brought out the gold in her eyes. She began to brush out her long, unruly hair.

“Anna, I want you to have my topaz,” she murmured.

“What?” Annalise goggled her.

“Take my topaz and the sapphires; have them sent to Chrys. They suit her eyes.”

“Daphne, you cannot give away your jewels.”

She pressed her favorite perfume to her pulse points. “I have others, and I want you two to have those. They are the best I have.”

Annalise bowed her head. “One day, you may regret it.” She was not talking about the gifts.

Daphne shrugged. “Perhaps. For now, I feel it necessary. How do I look?”

Annalise glanced at her. She looked miserable and proud. She had left her hair down for once.

“Beautiful. It is not too late to change your mind, Daphne.”

Daphne smiled bitterly. “I will not change my mind, Anna.”

Daphne walked down the stairs. It was a stab in the heart not to see Villiers there, waiting, or perhaps looking sheepish at being caught in his eavesdropping. She closed her eyes briefly, mourning for all that had happened since she had arrived here. If she had never had come, Villiers would still be standing in this hall, watching and waiting.

She took a deep, steadying breath, then another and another until she felt her resolve return. It had to be done. The sooner, the better. She knocked on the heavy study door.

“Come in.”

Stomach twisting in knots, Daphne entered, quietly shutting the door behind her. He was there, as he had been so often, sitting behind his desk with piles of paperwork. His hair was mussed, as though he had swept his fingers through it in agitation many times. There were dark circles beneath his eyes, speaking of a sleepless night.

Unlike the other times, there was a snifter of brandy beside his right hand. It had not been touched. Yet.

“Good afternoon, James.”

His eyes swept over her, devouring. He took in her tired, resigned face, the gold of her hair spilling around her, the warm glow of her rich dark eyes. He looked at her as though he was a man starved for her sight. Daphne’s heart shuddered in her chest.

“Daphne,” he breathed.

She quietly sat down, folding her hands in her lap.

“I have received an offer I would like to consider, James.”

His gaze snapped up to her steady gaze. “What? I have received no additional offer.”

She nodded. “Yes, he thought it best to see how I felt first before approaching you. I have been considering it carefully.”

He closed his eyes, as though he could not bear to look at her anymore. It hurt, so much more than Daphne had ever thought it would. Her heart trembled in her chest. Deep, stabbing pain threatened to pull her down.

She renounced it.

“It is Elliot, James. I must say it is difficult to refute him. I could have everything I ever wanted.”

James strode to the window, staring out at nothingness. Daphne to be wed. Daphne in another man’s arms. Daphne married. Pain stabbed, deep and insistent. It was his worst nightmare, a living horror that would never end.

“You do realize it is only his interest in your wealth,” he growled.

“I am not without intelligence, James. However, he agrees that I should maintain control. For whatever is spent on Lilac Manor, I will always know how it is spent. I want this,” she added quietly.

James turned to stare at her, fury distorting his precious face. “I could deny you.”

She nodded slowly. “You could,” she agreed lightly. “Will you, James?”

He could not bear to look at her. He braced his hands on either side of the window, struggling to recall how to breathe. He took one, deep inhale of air, then another and another. It was his first instinct to fight, to maul and destroy. To take what his body demanded, to take her and damn the consequences.

But that was something he could never do.

“Are his kisses pleasing?” He had to know. It was torture, simply thinking about it, but he had to know.

“I have not kissed him,” she admitted quietly. “I am comfortable with Elliot, James.”

He turned to her, wild and savage as the rage boiled deep inside. “He will never make you wild, Daphne.”

She beseeched him with liquid eyes. “James, when I came here, all I wanted was to go home, to have my freedom. Elliot can give me that.”

He prowled the four walls of his prison, like a great snarling animal. His hands were fisted at his side, as though he would pummel her the first opportunity he had. She watched as he struggled to find a reason, any reason, to deny her. There were reasons, some of them quite plausible, but when he finally faced her, she knew by the resignation in his eyes that he would not push the point.

“I will not deny you your wish, Daphne. It will take some time to call the banns and ready for a wedding, but I suppose I can permit him to officially call on you.”

“James, I do not want a large wedding. I want it small and quiet and…” She trailed off as tears stung her eyes. “I want to be married as soon as possible.”

“Daphne.” Her name was a curse.

I love you, her heart cried. I need you. Give me one reason to stay, and I will.

“Very well, a short betrothal and a rushed wedding. Another scandal will ensue.”

“It does not matter. I do not plan to mingle in polite society in the future.”

He cursed under his breath. He was losing her. Damnation, he had already lost her. There would not even be those short, momentary glimpses of her in the streets. There would be nothing.

She would be gone.

Quaking, James downed his brandy in one burning gulp.

“You do not have to do this, Daphne. I would never—”

“You should know it is because of me that Villiers is abed,” she said over him, over what more he could say to break her heart. “When I leave, the danger will be gone.”

“Your maid—”

“She did not poison him; she tried to poison me. She obviously did not pay attention to my habits, of course. If she did she would know I never drink chocolate because it leaves me feeling thirsty for hours afterward.”

He nodded shortly. The authorities were already looking for the wicked Darcie. He would relay the information to them.

“You should have told me this last night, sweet.”

She turned away from his inquisitive gaze. She could not bear it. “You had enough worries at the time, James. I am telling you now.”

“They will arrest her soon,” he tried to soothe.

She rejected it with a shrug. “It is no longer important. Is this meeting over now? May I leave?”

“No.”

She glanced at him warily. “No?”

“No, Daphne, it is not over. I am giving you what you desire.” His lips twisted in a horrible grimace. “Your home. A hasty wedding. Will you not give me something in return?”

She shivered. He already had the greatest thing she could offer any man. He had her heart.

“W-what?”

James leaned down so his face was close to her. “Give me a kiss, Daphne. One last kiss to remember.”

“That is not fair.”

He smiled grimly. “It is what I want from you.”

She pushed at his shoulders and stood. She would not finish this business without having equal standing with him. She took a long, deep breath. A kiss? Was this how he meant to kill her?

James slowly framed her face in gentle hands. There was no backing out now. Daphne took a fortifying breath to prepare for his attack.

When his lips finally touched hers, she knew she could never have prepared herself for the invasion. She could never have known or guessed how he would destroy all her defenses with sneaky tenderness. As his lips rubbed over hers, his breath mingled with hers, she felt herself falling, more deeply, more completely than ever before.

It hurt. His tongue swept inside, and it hurt, loving him and needing him as she did, unable to give him the words and accept the need that burned inside him. She clung to him helplessly as he kissed her.

And kissed her.

Moaning, she wrapped her arms around his waist and held him to her heart. Tenderness was quickly replaced with heated desire. His hands buried in her hair, holding her face still as he slanted his mouth over hers, again and again and again. He suckled her full lower lip into his mouth, nibbling delicately, rubbing his tongue over it again and again, only to release it and find her tongue. They warred, tongue surging forward and retreating in a teasing dance.

His hot mouth abandoned hers, only to trace a blazing trail down her throat, nibbling, licking, suckling the sensitive flesh, over and over again. Her head fell back, giving him greater access.

He could not get close enough, could never get enough of her. Groaning, he cupped her buttocks and lifted her up. He grasped her legs, forcing her to wrap them around his waist. Frightened by this new intimate position, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders and clung.

“Daphne,” James groaned as he took her mouth again.

He kissed her with all he was worth, branding her, demanding her to give it all to him, only him, for all of eternity. He leaned her over his desk, following her down, kissing, loving her sweet, plump lips.

He changed the intensity when he realized how close he was to demanding what she could not give him. Soothing them both, he tapered the kisses off, gently, moving back gradually until they were both touching and tasting in quiet, steady need.

James somehow managed to pull his mouth from hers. He did not know how. It was nigh impossibly to leave her completely. He dropped his forehead to rest against hers.

Daphne was out of breath, as though she had just run a great long distance. He found himself stroking her hair, her jaw, her arm, whatever he could touch.

“Assumedly this is the point where you will tell me this never should have happened, that our desire was a mistake, and that this will never happen again,” she sighed miserably.

The idyll was over. James pushed away from her.

“I am going to apologize, say that should have happened many more times than it ever did, and I am going to miss you,” he told her stiffly.

Daphne glared down. Her skirts were twisted around her stocking-clad thighs. She struggled to get up and shove them down again while James poured himself another drink.

Kissing him again had not helped matters a single bit.

“Good-bye, James.”