Protecting her meant restraint, even now, even after everything they had shared.
Adrian shifted slightly, creating space between them, careful to maintain his composure.
He did not speak. To speak would risk revealing his turmoil, his fractured self, and that was not something she should ever see.
She needed distance, even as every instinct in him urged him to stay.
His eyes lingered on her, not with desire this time, but with something heavier: the weight of a promise, of a protection he would uphold.
Even if it meant tormenting himself.
Chapter Twelve
Daphne had just begun to calm down, her body still vibrating from the intimacy, when Adrian rose abruptly.
He did not look satisfied in the careless way of a man who had taken pleasure and left, nor did he look guilty. He simply straightened, his movements deliberate, composed, controlled.
“You should rest,” he said quietly, his voice low but steady. “And… thank you. For cleaning my wounds.”
Before she could reply, he stepped back, leaving just enough space between them to breathe, yet somehow still filling the room with his presence. He did not look away, but neither did he linger. Then, with effortless propriety, he moved toward the adjoining door.
The click of it closing behind him sounded impossibly final, though he had not rushed or slammed it. The sound echoed inthe quiet room, leaving Daphne’s senses both empty and alert at once.
She lay on her bed, heart racing, body humming, and yet the pull of him lingered in every nerve. He had not taken anything from her that he shouldn’t have, and yet the intimacy they shared now felt potent, dangerous even.
He had not apologized. He had not explained. He had simply stepped away with perfect courtesy, leaving her to process the storm he had stirred within her, and the weight of the tension he had created without ever crossing a line.
Daphne closed her eyes, trying to focus on her breathing, on the quiet of the room, on the fact that she was alone. Yet in the corners of her mind, she still felt him: the way he watched her, measured and possessive, with an intensity that left her both unsettled and strangely aware of the fluttering warmth in her chest.
Distance, she reminded herself.
She had to maintain it. What had just happened between them…it was a whirlwind. Something she could barely handle. Distance would help her see things clearly. Help her compose herself.
Her husband was a man who inspired both admiration and caution.
She could not allow herself to forget that no matter how dangerous—or enticing—he could be.
For the next week, Daphne noticed how Adrian kept his walls up as he hid behind cold formality. She watched how the bruises faded and the cut on his temple faded to a pale pink.
At this point, their conversations had deteriorated to nothing more than necessary, mostly on logistics when handling the household’s daily routines.
The adjoining room felt more like the gate to a fortified castle. It was like a silent war raged between them.
But there really should not be anything to be mad about,at least that was what Daphne told herself.
In fact, everything was supposed to feel normal a week later when they were invited to attend the Winter Ball. Their hosts were to be none other than Wilhelmina and Gerard. It would be Daphne and Adrian’s first test as a couple, a time when thetonwould be scrutinizing their every move.
Pretense was important and, so far, they had mostly been avoiding each other.
Daphne had to remind herself that she and Adrian were supposed to be in love, so much so that they married in haste.She entered the ballroom in his arm, wearing a dark sapphire velvet dress. He had provided her with Wolfcrest heirloom jewelry, sapphires that matched her whole ensemble.
She was the obedient Brighton girl. So, she knew just how to smile even though her heart had become a clenched fist the past week. Even then, the smile threatened to falter as she saw how everyone was looking at them with undisguised curiosity and judgment.
Being that it was her sister’s ball, she guided her husband toward where her mother stood with her chin lifted haughtily. Daphne did not stop there, though, steering herself toward her siblings instead.
Daphne was glad to be quickly embraced by nieces and nephews.
“How are you, Aunt Daphne?” asked some of them, who were clamoring to not only see their aunt but also to take a peek at her husband.
