His arms tightened around her. “Neither did I.”
She shifted against him and felt the evidence of his arousal pressing against her hip. Her eyes flew to his face.
“Edward…”
“No.” He shook his head, his jaw tight with restraint. “Not here. Not in your father’s house.” His thumb traced circles on her shoulder. “When I take you, it will be in our home. In our bed. Properly.”
A shiver ran through her at his words. “When you take me?”
His eyes darkened. “When you are ready. When you want it. Not a moment before.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I can wait.”
Sophia studied his face, the tension in his jaw, the heat banked behind his eyes.
He wanted her. The evidence was undeniable. And yet he held himself back, putting her comfort before his desire.
“Stay.” She curled closer to him. “Stay with me tonight.”
He hesitated for only a moment. Then he reached down and pulled the coverlet over them both, settling her more securely against his side.
“I am not going anywhere.”
Sophia closed her eyes. His heartbeat was steady beneath her ear, his warmth surrounding her like a shield against the world. For the first time since her wedding day, she did not feel trapped.
She felt found.
She woke to morning light and the unfamiliar weight of an arm across her waist.
Edward slept beside her; his face relaxed in a way she had never seen it. The harsh lines were softened, the perpetual tension gone. He looked younger. Peaceful. Human, in a way he rarely allowed himself to be.
Sophia watched him breathe and felt something expand in her chest. Something fragile and fierce and terrifying in its intensity.
His eyes opened. For a moment, confusion flickered there. Then memory returned, and his gaze warmed.
“Good morning.” His voice was rough with sleep.
“Good morning.” She smiled. “You stayed.”
“I told you I would.” He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Did you sleep well?”
“Better than I have in weeks.”
Something like satisfaction crossed his features. He leaned in and kissed her, soft and sweet, a promise of more to come.
“We should rise.” He pulled back with obvious reluctance. “Before the servants begin to talk.”
“Let them talk.” Sophia traced the line of his jaw with her fingertip. “We are married, after all.”
His lips curved into something that was almost a smile. “We are.” He captured her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm. “And I intend to make the most of it. Starting when we return to London.”
The promise in his voice sent heat curling through her belly. She sat up, suddenly aware of her disheveled state, her wrinkled nightgown, the evidence of the night before written across her flushed skin.
“We should say our goodbyes to my parents.” She slipped out of bed and reached for her dressing gown. “Oliver will be eager to see the fish one more time.”
Edward rose as well, straightening his clothes. He moved toward the connecting door, then paused. He crossed back to her in two strides and caught her face between his hands.
“Thank you.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “For last night. For everything.”
“You do not need to thank me.” She echoed her words from the night before.
