Chapter 14

"You gave in quite easily to your mother," Arabella remarked once they set off down the path.

She smiled as the sun warmed her face and bathed everything in a beautiful golden glow.

"I find it easier to do as she says than to argue and have her excommunicate me from parlor games."

She laughed out loud. "Are parlor games that important?" she asked incredulously.

"Yes. They're the crux of dinnertime entertainment every Saturday," Edward answered seriously.

"If I didn't know you well now, I'd think you were joking."

He smiled brilliantly, and just because nature loved him, the sun hit him at an angle that highlighted his best features.

God this is too much.

Arabella groaned inwardly.

"I actually thought you'd be a little more grumpy," she joked, before clearing her throat.

"Oh, I was, but I thought it only fair." He chuckled. "We have given them hell these past few days. Do you think it's working?"

She shot him a look. "It doesn't seem to be if we're here now." She sighed. "Emily has been trying to counsel me, and your mother keeps showing me the baby clothes you wore. I really would hate to break their hearts."

Or mine.

They both fell silent.

"Do we have to separate?" he asked, shocking her.

"Pardon me?"

"I don't know how to say this, but we are good together. You make me laugh, my family loves you, and I like you."

"Edward, I… I feel the same way. I find myself becoming comfortable around you, and I look forward to catching your eye across the room when your mother says something particularly funny," Arabella admitted. "You make me feel like I'm home, and it scares me."

"It scares me, too."

"Is this how it feels like?" she asked.

"I don't know." He laughed. "I should be asking you. You're the one who reads romance novels."

"That doesn't mean I've experienced it!" she retorted. "You're the one who has had many lovers."

He gasped mockingly. "How dare you bring up my past?"

"I do dare because I'm your wife."

"Fake wife."

They halted their horses and looked at one another, as if finally seeing each other. They laughed at that and then took off in a small canter, but when they finally crested the hill, Arabella finally understood why his mother was adamant about him bringing her there.

"It's so beautiful," she gasped.

The lake below the hill glinted silver in the sunlight, and the field below was dotted with so many red, yellow and purple flowers that she wanted to run through them.

Edward led them to a shaded spot beneath a tall tree and set up the picnic while she took in the beauty around them. He was such a gentleman, but considering the stories he'd told her of his childhood, she could understand why.

"Come sit." He patted the spot beside him.

She sat, admiring the spread before them. Her favorite desserts and sweets were laid out before her, making her grin from ear to ear.

"Your mother knows me well." She laughed. "I have a thing for sweets. It's almost unhealthy."

He smiled at her. "I prefer more salty snacks and crackers," he said and then popped a cracker in his mouth.

He licked his fingers, which made her feel warm in places she didn't know could feel warm. He noticed the look in her eyes and did it again.

"What are you doing to me, Edward?" she asked shyly. "You're making me feel things I didn't think was possible."

"Like what?" He feigned innocence.

"You surely don't expect me to say it."

"I surely do."

"But it's not proper!"

"We are married now, Ara mine," he reminded her. "There's nothing we can do to each other that will be deemed inappropriate."

"But, Edward…"

"Ara mine…" he drawled.

"Why do you call me that?"

"Because you are mine," he answered, tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "Ever since that night I saw you in the ballroom, I have wanted to have you, and now you are mine."

She reddened at his words. "Why?"

She knew she wasn't ugly, but no one had ever expressed passion so ardently towards her before.

"Just because you're you." He pressed a chaste kiss to her lips and then leaned back to place his head in her lap. "Can we pretend for now that we are truly married? We've played at being angry with each other, but we've not played at being in love."

Her heart rate quickened at the suggestion. She looked around, wondering if anyone could see them.

His eyes were closed, but he was not asleep. He furrowed his brow.

"Are you all right?" Arabella asked.

"I will be if you run your fingers through my hair," he suggested. "I quite enjoyed that when I was young."

She obliged him, as it had been one thing she'd been craving to do. His locks were like silk between her fingers, and she smiled when he groaned in relief.

"From your many lovers?" she asked teasingly.

Edward chuckled. "Are you jealous?"

"Maybe."

"Don't be."

"I'll try not to." She laughed. "So tell me, who was your first kiss?"

"Some girl I met at Court when I was sixteen." He frowned, trying to remember. "She was a pretty little thing, but she's married now with three kids."

"That is interesting."

"Indeed."

"There was a meadow like this in the estate I grew up in. I loved to sit there and read for hours as a child." Arabella sighed, remembering the long hours she'd spent under the sun till she'd been old enough to care about her skin being pale and not dark.

"Why did you stop?"

"I became a woman." She laughed darkly. "Mother warned me that men liked pale-skinned, elegant London debutantes, not brown-skinned country bumpkins."

Edward laughed boisterously. "I'd have married you even if you looked like a country bumpkin."

"Somehow, I don't doubt it."

"What did you do for fun, then?" he asked.

"You really want to know?"

"Most definitely."

"I loved fencing."

His eyebrows rose to his hairline at her admission.

"Is it so odd that I find it interesting?" Arabella asked quietly.

He smiled. "Not at all."

"So?"

"It's just that I thought you'd say embroidery or the like."

"Not all women have such placid hobbies, you know?"

"I'm starting to."

She shook her head at him. "What was your favorite activity as a child?"

She expected he'd say playing pirates or knights, but his answer stunned her.

"Poetry?" she echoed.

"Yes."

She sat back, looking down at him and trying to picture him as a little boy writing poetry. "That is rather…"

"Rather…?"

"Odd."

"You aren't supposed to judge childhood hobbies," Edward pointed out playfully.

"I'm trying hard not to, but I imagine how adorable you must have been scrawling." She giggled. "How old were you?"

"Twelve."

"Oh God." She laughed again, unable to control herself. "Do you still write?"

"Yes."

She quieted at his brusque honesty.

"You do? Can I see your work when we get back to the castle?" she asked curiously.

"I don't usually…"

"It doesn't matter." She smiled brightly.

He seemed as though he were reconsidering his answer and then nodded.

She clapped her hands together. "I'm so excited!"

Then they fell silent. Arabella took that opportunity to admire the view. She wished to never go back. She let out a sigh that caused him to open his eyes.

"What is the matter?" Edward asked, concern lacing his words.

"Do we have to go back?" she asked. "I love how I can sit freely with you here. I love how at peace I am with you here. I… I'm tired of pretending I don't have feelings for you. It's all so complicated in my head that I forget why I never wanted to marry."

"I understand. I feel the exact same way," he admitted, sitting up and pulling her to his side. "But do you think we should try taking it one step at a time?"

"I would love that." She beamed. "You know… I am curious."

"What about?"

"You," she said. "Why you never wanted to get married."

He sighed and seemed to hesitate for a moment. "My father wasn't exactly a paragon of manhood for me, and I saw how loving him dimmed my mother's light," he explained, his mood darkening. "I swore that I'd never subject a woman to the same fate in case I turned out like him."

"That's noble of you." She smiled, squeezing his hand. "But you didn't turn out like him."

"I did." He didn't meet her eyes. "I have not lived a clean life, Arabella. I?—"

"Your past doesn't matter to me, Edward," she insisted, cupping his jaw. "What matters is what you do going forward."

"But—"

"It doesn't matter."

"Ara mine, you're the smartest woman I've ever met."

"After your mother?"

"Of course."

They shared a laugh and smiled at each other.

"You make this friendship thing easy." She sighed. "I never thought I could be friends with a man."

"Why not?"

"I'm interminably shy, Edward," she pointed out. "I might not look it, but I am."

"You hide it well."

"I do, don't I?" Then she paused for a while, before asking, "Do you think it'll get better with us?"

She didn't know who moved first, but their lips met in a kiss that spoke volumes, his hands gently cupping her jaw then trailing down her body as their kiss deepened.

She felt rather than heard him moan when her hands touched his chest. He reclined her on the blanket so he was hovering over her, cradled between her thighs, the bulge in his breeches evidence of his desire.

His weight on her was delicious, and the way he rubbed his manhood against her core drove sensations through her that she'd never felt before.

"Edward, please," she moaned.

"What do you want, love?"

"I… I…"

"Tell me what you want, Ara mine," he purred, nipping her earlobe.

The sensation set her body ablaze, and she writhed beneath him.

"I want you to make love to me."

* * *

Edward groaned at her words. He'd never expected her to say them. Her body already told him as much with the way it quivered beneath him.

"Do you know what you're asking me, Ara mine?"

"I feel like I'm going to burn right through, Edward," she complained, squirming beneath him. "My breasts feel so heavy, and I feel like I've drenched my shift. What is happening to me?"

Fuck.

He groaned inwardly. Did she know what her words were doing to him?

He was already throbbing painfully in his breeches, and if she stopped him now, he would probably die.

"Ara…"

"Please, Edward."

He gave in, kissing his way down her neck down to the junction between her neck and shoulder. Her moan rent the air.

"You'd have to be a little more quiet, love."

"I can't," she cried. "It's too much."

"Show me where."

His hands ran up her thigh, and she squirmed harder, grabbing his hand and placing it on her round breast.

He groaned, palming her. He kissed the tops of her breast while his hands unfastened her stays.

When he moved to pull down the top, she stiffened.

"You have to trust me, love."

He looked into her eyes to show her he'd take care of her, and when she finally relaxed into him, he felt elated.

"I do," she breathed.

Edward pulled down her neckline, his eyes widening to take in her beauty. Her breasts were heavy and rounded with pink tips that called to him. He flicked his tongue over one and then nipped it lightly, enjoying the way she squirmed and tried to hold back a scream.

He laughed against her breast, nipping and sucking and licking, enjoying the way her cries rent the air. She tasted sweet like honeyed wine that he was ready to overindulge in. He palmed her other breast and massaged it so it didn't feel jealous.

He pulled her dress further down and kissed his way down her stomach, lifting her skirts. His finger teased her inner thigh, a shiver running through him at how drenched she was.

He lifted his finger to his mouth to taste her, and she reddened.

"You taste sweeter than honey," he told her, kissing her so she could taste herself.

He lifted her skirts higher and moved downward to taste her.

"No, Edward, you can't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because it's… it's…"

"I told you, nothing we do can be deemed inappropriate," he reminded her. "We're married now."

"But—"

"Tell me, Ara mine." He slid a finger inside her, lust ripping through him at how tight she was. "Have you ever touched yourself here?"

"No," she cried.

"Why not?" He kissed her there, and she jolted, trying to sit upright, but he pushed her back down with a hand on her stomach. "Rest, love. Let me take care of you."

He tasted her and groaned at her sweet nectar. Then he plundered her with his tongue so she'd know what a delicacy she was.

She writhed and mewled beneath him, her arousal leaking out of her when he slid another finger deep inside her.

He held her as she climaxed, savoring how beautiful she looked flushed and spent beneath him.

"Edward," she gasped.

"I'm right here, love."

"I… I feel…"

"I know."

He helped her dress and held her while she slept. He felt so content at that moment that he couldn't even believe he had been averse to marriage before. She made him feel things he'd never thought he'd feel, and it scared him how much he could imagine spending the rest of his life with her.

When she awoke hours later, he helped her onto her horse, and they rode beside each other in companionable silence.

"I… I thank you for today," Arabella said, surprising him. "I feel… good."

He beamed, glad that she was now comfortable enough to discuss topics she had found otherwise improper before.

"I'm glad you do." He nodded.

"Would you mind if we walked the rest of the way home?"

He looked ahead, noting they were only a thirty-minute walk away from the castle, and then dismounted. He reached his arms out to her and helped her dismount her horse.

He began to turn around, but she stunned him when she pulled him back and kissed him on the lips. He didn't move, sensing she wasn't looking to deepen it, and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear.

"What was that for?" he asked.

She turned red, and he decided he'd never seen her look more beautiful.

"I just wanted to do that again." She blushed.

He tilted her face up to his and kissed her long and deep this time.

"You can do it as many times as you want."