“Wherein Christmas eve is explosive.”

 

Belle waited until well past midnight. It was amazing what a lot of noise the old castle made at night, with creaking and strange unsettling sounds. She had never really noticed it before, until tonight, when she was straining her ears, listening out to hear if the servants were still around.

Finally, she decided it was late enough, and Edward ought to be asleep. He hadn’t come down to dinner, of course, but Charlie had been by to tell her that he’d left the marquess in his rooms at half-eleven, and as far as he knew, Edward was retiring for the night.

Charlie had been a dear, in fact, keeping her informed of how Edward was doing. Mostly, he said, he just sat staring out of the window and would not be drawn into conversation. He had eaten little and was drinking too much. His thoughts were clearly stuck in the past and the horrors of everything he’d seen.

If only he’d something else to occupy his mind, Charlie had said the night before, which had got Belle thinking. In fact, she’d thought of nothing else ever since he’d said it, and now, on Christmas Eve, she had what she believed was the perfect answer. She had already spoken to Charlie about it, and her hopes had risen at the smile that had dawned over the valet’s rough features.

“Blimey, my lady, ye are a bleedin’ genius, pardon my French.”

Belle had grinned back at him, thrilled that he thought it a good idea. “You don’t think he’ll be cross?” she asked, feeling more than a little nervous.

Charlie shrugged. “Maybe, but once it’s all done, ‘e’ll be honour-bound, won’t ‘e? Reckon it’s just the ticket, get ‘im thinkin’ about sommat different and new.”

Belle sighed and hoped that Charlie had been right. Either way, that wasn’t until tomorrow, and she had to get through tonight yet.

Picking up her candle, she opened her bedroom door and crept along the corridor. Her heart leapt to her throat as something creaked behind her, but when she turned, there was nothing there. Silently, she cursed her husband and his stories of murdered housekeepers. Hurrying along, lest she should see something she’d rather not, she found herself outside Edward’s door and held her breath as she turned the handle.

It opened silently and she padded into the room on bare feet.

It was still warm, at least, the fire in the hearth still blazing and casting a warm glow. Belle extinguished her candle and placed it down as quietly as she could manage, noticing the large, huddled shape under the bed covers with relief. A fine thing it would have been if he weren’t even here.

Remembering Celeste’s words of encouragement, regarding men’s libido and desires, she let her gown drop to the floor so that she was quite naked, and tiptoed over to the bed.

Edward stirred a little as she slipped under the covers, and Belle’s heart beat so fast that she wondered if it were trying to escape her ribcage. But then, all was silent, and Edward was breathing deeply with Belle lying beside him.

Tentatively, Belle slid a hand out and rested it on his chest, feeling his heart beating steady and firm beneath her palm. Slowly, her hand travelled lower, following the trail of dark hair that led to that intriguingly silky skin. Finding her own breathing rather harsher now, Belle began to caress him, encouraged as he began to grow harder and his breathing quickened too.

Edward sighed, and she was not entirely sure if he was awake or asleep, but her touch became firmer and a little faster.

“Belle?” He sounded sleepy and a little dazed as Belle moved over him, straddling his hips and leaning down to kiss him.

“Yes, my love, I’m here.”

She moved against him, finding her own body aching for him now as she moved against the hard length of him. Her breath caught as he groaned and his hands went to her waist, his hips arching up to her.

Reaching between them, Belle moved, awkwardly, at first, as she tried to slide him into place, but then, everything seemed to be just as it ought as she moved down on him, feeling pleasure bloom inside of her.

Edward made a sound of deep approval as she began to move again, slowly, then finding the rhythm she needed to satisfy both of them. His big hands clutched at her waist as though she was keeping him anchored to the ground and he dare not let go.

“Belle,” he groaned, the sound half anguish, half delight as she leaned down again to find his mouth.

“I love you, Edward,” she whispered against his lips as the pleasure grew and her breath came faster. “I love you and I won’t let you run from me,” she said, clutching at his shoulders. “Where ever you go, I will find you, and I will make you safe again. I won’t let you frighten me off.”

The breath seemed to leave him in a rush and he clung on tighter.

“I’m not afraid of you,” she said, meaning it and hoping he knew it was the truth. “Not anymore. I never could be again.”

Edward made a strangled sound, and then the pleasure was too intense, too much, and they came together, tangled in Belle’s desire and love and hopes for future as she did everything she could to chase the past away.

***

“I’m so sorry, Belle.”

Belle turned on her side to face her husband, seeing Edward’s eyes glinting in what remained of the firelight. He reached out a hand and touched the tiny mark where she had struck the bedside cabinet when she’d tumbled from their bed.

“It wasn’t your fault,” she said, and heard his grunt of disagreement. “It wasn’t,” she insisted. “I know better than to try and force you awake again,” she added. “I was just so frightened for you, Edward. You were so obviously caught in something vile and ... and so awful. I just wanted to bring you back.”

He lifted her fingers to his lips and kissed them, but his voice, when it came, was serious and so full of fear that her heart ached.

“I don’t know if you can, Belle, if I can.” He was silent, but she waited, feeling there was more. “Sometimes I don’t feel like I’m really here at all. Like ... like I’m a fake, a ... a fraud, and the real me is still there, still fighting. I ... I can’t explain it,” he said, sounding frustrated and disgusted. “God, you must think you married a bloody madman,” he snarled, his temper rising out of nowhere. “I bet you do.” The words were accusing and harsh, and Belle’s own temper sparked to life.

“I think nothing of the sort!” she said, her voice remarkably angry. “And don’t you dare put words in my mouth, Edward Greyston.”

“Well, it’s true!” he snapped, moving away from her and sitting up in bed now.

Belle moved to the cabinet and fumbled about muttering until she had lit enough candles that she could see her husband’s face. She got out of bed and pulled on her robe, taking the candles around to his side of the bed and sitting beside him. The candles threw a flickering light, and his handsome face was severe and full of shadows, which seemed apt. There was a deal of darkness in her husband, but none of it was his doing, none of it there because he had done wrong. He had served his country and bled and suffered because of it.

He was staring ahead of him, with that stiff-jawed expression that meant nothing she said was going to get through to him. With annoyance, she reached out and grabbed hold of his chin.

“You listen to me, you stubborn, infuriating man,” she said, staring into the troubled waters that seemed to rage in his eyes. “You are not mad!” His eyes flicked over to look at her, but he couldn’t seem to hold her gaze. “You survived something that would break the toughest of men, Edward. Do not berate yourself because you find that life is hard. You are a wonderful man. I can see this after such a short time with you, and we have years and years ahead of us. Don’t push me out of your life just because it’s easier than letting me in!”

He moved suddenly, getting out of the bed on the opposite side from her and pulling on his clothes as fast as he could.

“You don’t understand,” he said, his voice savage now. “You don’t know what is in my head, the ... the horrors, the obscenities!” he raged. “If you knew, you would not want to touch me.”

“Edward, stop this!” she cried, running around the bed to him. “You are wrong, more wrong than you can possibly realise. You didn’t put those images in your head! You were sent to war! Good God, it’s not as if you can unsee all of the things that visit you in your nightmares.”

Edward was silent, his face a mask, every line of his body rigid with tension. He began to walk to the door, and Belle became very afraid that if he left the room tonight, left this row unfinished, that he might not ever return.

“Don’t you dare walk away from me!” she shouted, but his face was set and he didn’t stop. “Edward!”

Driven by panic and frustration, Belle did the only thing she could think of and picked up one of a pair of porcelain candlesticks from the mantle. Rather a pity, she thought with chagrin, as she’d rather admired them, but desperate times called for desperate measures. With rather surprising accuracy, she lanced the candlestick in Edward’s general direction, and it smashed against the wall just inches from his head, showering him with sharp little shards.

“The devil!” he exploded in shock, spinning around to stare at her, but Belle had already picked up the second candlestick and was holding it aloft.

“If you leave this room, I will make such a scene that it will take your breath away,” she warned him, knowing he must see the determination in her eyes. “The servants will talk of it for years. Word will be bound to get out, and everyone will say I’m the mad one. Anything you do after will seem perfectly innocuous, I assure you.” Her voice was sure and steady, which was reassuring, as she felt like she really was on the edge of madness herself. Her apparent calm seemed to make Edward believe she truly meant what she said, however, and he made no move to take another step.

“Belle,” he said, his voice a little cautious now. “You don’t know what you’re saying. I thought to help you when I offered marriage, but ... but all I have done is trapped you in ... in an untenable position.”

“Untenable?” she repeated, her voice dangerously low. “Are you really such a fool?” she demanded, really wanting to throw the damned candlestick now. “Are you so blind as to not see what is in front of you, Edward?”

“What?” he yelled, his fists clenched and his face so full of pain that her rage evaporated as fast as it had sparked to life. “What are you saying?”

Belle lowered the candlestick and shook her head, infuriated that he couldn’t see it for himself. “That I’m happy, Edward. You make me happy.”

He gaped at her, his face so incredulous that she almost laughed.

“That’s a ... a damn lie!” he spluttered, clearly quite unable to believe it.

Belle threw the candlestick.

Edward took a hasty step backwards as the missile whistled past his ear. She was improving, Belle thought with satisfaction.

“I. Never. Lie.”

“Well, then, you really are insane,” he snapped at her, watching with growing concern as she reached for a rather weighty ormolu clock. She’d best miss with this one, or she might actually kill him. “What in the name of God have I done to make you happy?” he demanded, looking so adorably confused that she was lost.

Belle laughed, and wondered at his ability to drive her from utter fury to a puddle at his feet in the space of seconds.

“Oh, Edward,” she said, shaking her head. “When we are together at night, it ... it is the most perfect, the most wonderful thing in the world. At least it is for me,” she added, feeling her happiness ebb as she realised that he may not feel the same. “And when you hold me after, and the few times when you’ve actually troubled to talk to me ... those moments are the most precious of all. As for the rest of it,” she added, her voice rather low and weary now. “I understand. If you need to run away from us all and be by yourself in the woods, then ... then you must do that.” She put down the clock as exhaustion washed over her. “But, at least, let us build you a small shelter or something. A place where you can build yourself a fire and not freeze to death. For my sake.”

She looked up at him, but Edward was staring at the floor, and she could not read his face in the shadows. Taking her courage in her hands, she crossed the space between and slipped her arms around his waist, looking up into eyes that were full of distress.

“You would do that ... for me?” he asked, his voice rough.

“I would do anything for you,” she whispered. “Anything to ... to try and give you some peace, some comfort. Anything to make you understand that you don’t need to keep punishing yourself because you lived.” She leaned into him and rested her head on his chest, hearing the steady thud of his heart. “I love you,” she added, the words so simple yet so terribly complicated at the same time.

“You really are insane,” he grumbled, but there was a flicker of amusement in his voice now, and Belle smiled against him.

“Perhaps,” she replied, her voice soft. “But if that is so, I have no desire to be anything else.”

He let out a breath, and she felt his arms wrap around her, pulling her close. “I don’t deserve you, Belle.”

“No,” she said, her tone haughty, though she looked up and grinned at him so he could be sure she was teasing. “I don’t suppose you do.”

The beginnings of a smile flickered over his lips and he bent his head, brushing his mouth against hers in a gentle kiss. “It’s the same for me, Belle,” he whispered, the words so raw and honest that her throat ached. “When we are together. It’s the same for me.”

Belle sighed and reached up to kiss him again. “Then don’t push me away, Edward. Run away from me if you must, but please ... please promise that you’ll always come back again.”

He was quiet for a moment, but in the end, she had her answer.

“I promise.”