Chapter 15

Daphne wiped her face with her kerchief, picking herself up from the floor she had slid down on. Straightening her dress and hair, she stepped out into the hallway but was immediately startled by the sound of music and laughter up ahead.

Not being in the mood for dinner or conversation, she decided to head back to her room, but Percy's words kept haunting her and she wondered if it really were true that Victor didn't trust her.

She wanted to go to him, if only to hear the truth, but another part of her feared he would prefer to keep his secrets to himself.

She sighed and walked on, not looking where her feet led her and when she finally looked up, she noticed she was somehow standing before Victor's chamber doors. Taking a calming breath, she knocked. Hearing no answer, she walked into his chambers.

"Victor?" she called softly as she entered his room, her voice barely a whisper.

Hearing no response, she ventured further into the room, her steps tentative on the plush carpet. She frowned; he was nowhere to be seen. The moment she turned to leave, she stopped in her tracks.

The faint sound of water dripping drew her attention to the bathroom. As she approached, the door stood ajar, allowing her a sliver of a view inside.

Her curiosity getting the better of her, Daphne peeked through the opening and froze. There, in the flickering candlelight, stood Victor, his back to her, gazing into a large mirror. His shirt hung on a nearby chair, revealing his bare back. Daphne's heart sank; it was covered in a lattice of scars. They crisscrossed his skin, some were old and faded, others newer and angrier, like a canvas made from pain and suffering.

She gasped, unable to contain her shock. Victor's eyes met hers through the reflection in the mirror, widening in surprise.

"What are you doing here?" he asked her, his voice tinged with both embarrassment and frustration. "People are still about. Anyone could have seen you!"

Ignoring his protest, she stepped into the room, her eyes not leaving his.

"Everyone is at the evening meal and they seem to be enjoying themselves so much they won't notice our absence," she answered, then sighed as she stood in front of him.

"Victor, who did this to you?" Her voice was filled with a mix of concern and sorrow.

He stiffened and then relaxed, looking conflicted.

"You can trust me not to tell anyone else," she added, hoping in some small way that she would be able to ease the burden on his soul. "Your secrets are safe with me."

"If it were to be any other thing, I would tell you," he answered looking away from her.

"Why?"

"I do not find it easy discussing my scars," he answered tonelessly. "And I have had no need to, as no one but you has knowledge of them."

"Not even Harry?"

He gave her a smile that lacked humor. "Harry is not privy to all my secrets."

"I would like to be privy to this one."

He sighed long and deep, and when she finally thought he would not share the tale with her, his deep voice came out lower and softer than she was used to.

"My scars are a testament to my father's true nature," he started. "To the ton, he was a duke of honorable standing. To my mother and me? He was our worst nightmare. I would have preferred to take the secret of my scars to my grave. They are, to say the least, repulsive. A sign of the weakling I was."

"Do not say that," Daphne responded gently. "Your scars are a testament to your bravery. You faced such pain but you are still here with your head held high. I do not know what could have kindled such… cruelty in a man that he would hurt his own son. I do know that you are strong and deeply resilient to bear these. And I could never be disgusted by you."

Victor remained still, as if afraid to move. He was silent as he contemplated her words.

"You were the last person I wanted to see them. Even I struggle to hold back bile when I see them but you… you say you're not repulsed by them?" he asked.

She shook her head at him, and feeling bold, wrapped her hands around him, placing her head on his chest.

"I do not find them at all repulsive." She told him more firmly this time, hoping that her words would seep into his mind for good.

He was silent for so long that she didn't know what to do. Frowning, she went to remove her arms from around him but he stopped her from doing so, embracing her tightly.

"Just a moment longer," he whispered against her hair.

"All right," she answered, nodding softly against his chest.

She took the time he held her to appreciate the hard planes of his physique and how deeply enveloped in his arms she was. He was much taller than her — tall enough to place his chin on the top of her head.

His intoxicating scent clouded her senses, lulling her into comfort and she let out a sigh.

His hold eased the tension that had been in her since her encounter with Percy. Even though they weren't actually courting, it was hard for Daphne to deny any further that she liked Victor. He made it all too easy to fall for him. She would be a fool to try to resist now.

He pulled her off him gently, rubbing the back of his head in a nervous move.

"Would you like to sit inside?" he asked suddenly, nodding towards the bedroom.

"Yes. I'd like that."

"The party guests will be done with dinner by now. I wouldn't want anyone to catch you stepping out of my chambers. It would be better if we waited inside until everyone has gone to bed," he hastily explained.

She laughed softly, finding this flustered version of him rather amusing as they went back to the bedroom.

Once he had thrown on a robe, he quickly slid beside her on one of the chaise longues next to the fireplace, leaving a reasonable distance between them.

She stole small glances at him out of the corner of her eye, her spine regally straight. He seemed perfectly content to sit in the silence while she was positively brimming with unspoken questions.

"Your mother told me she and your father did not have a good relationship. I didn't know the full extent of it," she blurted out, and Victor blinked at her in surprised.

"My mother told you that?"

"Indeed," Daphne nodded. "Nothing could have prepared me for the truth of it."

He laughed humorlessly. "No, I suppose nothing could."

"Still, I want to know everything. I–I mean… I am here for you, Victor," she responded.

She knew very well that what she was asking was bold, but she hoped he would finally see her as someone he could trust.

"You ask a hard thing, Daphne." He sighed and Daphne slid closer to him, urging him to continue.

He clenched his jaw before he began. "My mother tried to paint a much nicer picture of what our life was when, in reality, it was hell on earth. My father took great pains to transfer his frustrations onto my mother and me. The scars you see only scratch the surface of what he inflicted. He was relentless, and when my mother tried to intervene, he turned his wrath on her, too. I had to leave to protect us both. I couldn't bear to see her suffering any longer."

Daphne listened, her heart breaking with each word. She mourned for him; for the childhood he never got to enjoy because of his father, and for the man still trapped in the prison of his heart.

"Oh, Victor," she whispered, tears welling in her eyes. "I had no idea. I am sorry you had to endure that. And I am sorry I assumed you left me only because you are a rake. I didn't know…"

"No," he told her. "There is no need to apologize."

"I should."

"It doesn't matter, Daphne. There's no point in dwelling on it. I have come to terms with it. But I don't want to marry. I don't want to be a husband or a father," he spat out, his tone resigned.

"Why?" Daphne asked.

"I will not subject an innocent woman to such terrible acts." He answered with so much conviction she was shocked.

"You are not your father, Victor," she reassured him.

"I cannot risk it," he retorted. "I will devote the rest of my life to taking care of my mother. She bore the brunt of his maltreatment."

"All the while pushing away people who may care about you," Daphne said, her voice gentle but firm.

He gawked at her in surprise. She shook her head. "You do not fix your problems by running away or pushing those who care about you away, Victor."

"And are you one of such people?" he asked, staring her deep in the eyes.

Her eyes widened guiltily. She bit her lip wondering if it were wise for her to admit she did or keep silent. If she admitted it, it would be her giving her heart away in preparation for another round of disappointment but if she kept silent…

"I—"

The words couldn't leave her mouth as he captured her lips in a kiss, unlike any other they had shared and full of emotions he had kept hidden for so long — his pain, his longing…

She could tell this kiss was more.

His hands were frantic as they pulled her closer. He swiftly undid her stays and her dress slipped down her body. It didn't take him long to remove all her undergarments too, leaving her naked before him.

Her hand moved toward the silk belt of his robe, but he gently pushed her hand away as he knelt on the floor and in between her legs.

"Let me worship you first," he murmured with a dark, hungry gaze.

He barely gave her a warning before his head dove between her legs, nipping and kissing and sucking.

He took his time, exploring every inch of her with reverence and adoration. His lips found her most sensitive spots, his touch sending shivers of pleasure coursing through her body. Daphne surrendered to the sensations, her fingers threading through his hair as she gave herself over to him completely.

Victor's mouth worked wonders on her, his movements slow and deliberate, building her up until she was teetering on the edge of ecstasy. When she finally reached her peak, it was with a cry of pure bliss, her body trembling with release.

As she came down from the heights of her pleasure, she met Victor's triumphant eyes and smiled. She quickly stood from the sofa and put out her hand for him.

"Let's get a bit more comfortable," she said.

Victor got to his feet, towering over her once more. She glanced down once, spotting his manhood straining through his breeches. Her mouth instantly watered.

"God, Daphne. I can't say no when you look at me like that," he breathed and put his hand in hers.

She smiled up at him and led them to his bed, guiding him to lie down first, her eyes never leaving his. Then, she climbed on top of him, her hips straddling his own.

Slowly, she untied his robe, revealing the ridges of his hard muscles. Her fingers trembled slightly as she ran her hands down his stomach, feeling the heat of his skin. Victor watched her, his breath hitching as she leaned in, pressing gentle kisses along his chest.

Then, she helped him take off his breeches, which he excitedly tossed to the side as his hard member sprang free.

He gasped the moment she took him in her mouth with a slow, sensual motion. His hands tangled in her hair, his head tipping back in surrender. Daphne felt his response, his growing need, and she took him into her mouth, her movements slow and deliberate — determined to drive him as wild with pleasure as he had done with her.

As she continued pleasuring him, she looked up through her lustful haze, her eyes meeting his. With each movement of her lips, she could see the raw intensity of his pleasure reflected in his eyes, his gaze dark and smoldering with desire.

Victor's hands trembled as he reached out to caress her cheek, his touch gentle yet possessive. She could feel the heat of his gaze on her, his silent encouragement spurring her to greater heights of passion. "Yes… just like that, my dear. You are driving me to the brink of madness," he murmured, his voice deep and laced with desire.

Driven by a fierce desire to please him, she intensified her movements, her tongue tracing tantalizing patterns along his length. With each stroke, she felt him grow harder beneath her touch, his breath growing ragged with the sheer intensity of his desire. "God, Daphne," he groaned. "You feel divine. Do not stop. Please, do not stop."

As she brought him closer and closer to the edge, Daphne could sense his release building, his muscles tensing with anticipation.

For a moment, their eyes locked and she felt her whole body shake as he caressed her face, "You are exquisite. Just like that. Take me over the edge, darling."

Daphne thought she'd go over the edge with him with the words and sounds that escaped his lips. She wanted it to last forever.

When he came in her mouth with a hoarse moan, she was giddy with self-satisfaction as she swallowed his seed; she'd been able to bring such a powerful man to such heights of pleasure.

She knew then the feelings inside her were not the shallow sweetness of infatuation but deeper and warmer, realizing these feelings had crept up on her for a while now. She was well and truly trapped.

She crawled up to lie beside him, her body molded against his in a perfect fit. She could hear his heart pounding unsteadily in his chest, she knew hers was pounding a softer note betraying that she had fallen in love with him.

"Is something the matter?" he asked. "You are awfully quiet."

His tone was light and playful as his hands ran up and down her stomach. She could feel desire swirling inside her again but tamped it down as she answered.

"I am well." She bit her lip. "I am just sated from… what we did."

She felt him smile against her hair and knew he was feeling proud of himself.

"Those are the words every man wants to hear when a woman is in his bed."

She laughed despite the panic brewing inside her and slapped his hand.

"I am glad I could service your ego then," she teased.

He pulled her closer, his rapidly hardening member nudging her stomach.

"That isn't what I'd like to have you service right now," He growled against her ear.

"You are insatiable, Your Grace," she giggled.

He laughed against her ear, pulling her even closer to him. Her heart grew warmer and for a moment, she allowed herself to settle into him, releasing a sigh.

If only for this moment, she'd enjoy the experience of being in a man's arms. He had the pleasure of refusing to be trapped in the confines of marriage, while she, being a woman, would never be afforded the same luxury.

She could see her future now, trapped in a loveless and passionless marriage to Percy. At least she'd have her memory to keep her heart warm on days when the burden seemed too heavy to carry.

Tears welled up in her eyes, but she didn't dare let them fall.

"Daphne…" she heard Victor call softly.

"Y-yes?" she answered, clearing her throat. "I thought you were asleep."

"I wasn't. I was thinking," he answered.

"Oh?" She wondered out loud. "May I inquire as to what you were thinking about?"

"You. Us. This thing between us," He answered honestly. His voice betrayed an uncertainty she hadn't heard in his voice before.

"What about us?" she asked, trying to speak past the lump that had settled in her throat.

"Don't you feel it too? We've crossed so many boundaries. I am confused as to what we are doing now," he admitted.

She turned in his arms to face him, her eyes reading his face.

"Do you feel like we've overstepped our boundaries? We never did establish any clear lines," she said looking into his eyes.

A little flame of hope lit in her heart that she tried hard to ignore but couldn't as even though she didn't want to admit it, she hoped he felt the same way she did about him for her.

"It's this…This… this ruse of ours. I can't tell what's right and what's wrong anymore. Everything I do feels like a mistake."

Daphne gasped as his words extinguished the little flame of hope that had been blooming in her heart. Worse still, she felt the snag of her heart snapping in two again. For she was in love with him, utterly and completely, and to hear him speak of their connection as a mistake was a dagger to her soul.

She'd secretly hoped this time may be different with them, but it was obvious he was a man who was adamant in maintaining his stance on keeping everyone at arm's length and she'd be damned if she admitted he'd hurt her.

"I understand," she said, nodding and rising from the bed. "I have to go now, Victor. Have a good night."

Victor sat up on the bed. "Daphne, I?—"

She couldn't bear to hear any more of his empty words, so she put up a hand, making him go quiet.

She dressed in silence and fled to her room, saving her sobs for the silence of her pillows.

* * *

As the door closed softly behind Daphne, Victor remained rooted to the spot, a sense of profound loss settling over him like a heavy cloak.

The way she had looked at him… that was the reason he never could meet her gaze, because he knew the same would be reflected in his.

The short time they'd spent performing a courtship had shown him a possibility of a future he'd long wanted to avoid. He had found himself looking forward to seeing her and conversing with her about nothing and everything.

Hell.

He had even been competing with the accursed Farton for her attention, although there was no real competition because she wanted nothing to do with that fool who hadn't seemed to realize it.

That sense of comfort while he had her in his arms… it had terrified him. He could picture a future with her in his bed and his arms every night enjoying each other's bodies and warmth. He could see the image so clearly it had nearly pushed him to ask if they would make their relationship real.

The rational part of him spoke up; he would hate himself more if he trapped her in the bindings of a marriage that would bring her nothing but pain and suffering.

His mother had told him many times that he would be nothing like his father, but he feared that the blood would be expressed in him.

So he told himself as he watched her dress and leave his room that he'd done the right thing. He pretended not to see the tears in her eyes. And now, he struggled to find sleep.

After fruitless hours of tossing and turning, he rose to pour himself a drink. There was no way he'd be getting any rest tonight with the way things were looking.

Damn, he thought.

He hoped with time, she would heal. Because he knew that for him, that was a wish that might never come true.