Little Light Ch. 06

"It's taking him a moment, isn't it?"

Renee Archambault was not a scary woman. She was short in frame, with warm brown hair and rosy cheeks. In some ways, she looked the very opposite of her one and only son, whose tall frame and light coloring still hadn't appeared at the top of the stairs.

Martha cast another useless smile towards the woman, who was pacing back and forth in the foyer examining the little decoration in the space. Edwin was not much for interior design.

Even though Martha practically begged him to allow her to do something, at least put up some pictures, he only ever gave her a noncommittal "hmm" in response. She knew she could do whatever she wanted, really. But she'd been with the Archambault family for decades. She'd seen him grow from a boy to a man, she only ever wanted him to be happy, and so she didn't push the issue.

She knew enough about what had happened between him and his mother, and looking at Renee now, she was afraid for what her presence would do to his budding happiness.

Despite Martha's displeasure about Lucia's presence in the house, in the short time that the girl had been here Edwin's spirits seemed to have improved. Instead of burying himself in work he interacted with the staff more, had more often given Martha appreciative smiles. It had been nice.

"Mother." Edwin said, emerging from the second floor. He straightened his shoulders and ran a hand through his slightly tousled hair as he descended the steps. Despite being years removed from adolescence, he was still conscious enough of his appearance in front of his mother. If it were anyone else, Martha would have been amused.

"Edwin, dear. I know you're a bachelor, but you don't have to announce it with your home." Renee said.

"It's fine the way it is." Edwin said, reaching the bottom floor and allowing his mother to give him a kiss. He'd mirrored her light tone, but an edge had crept into his words. He cleared his throat to hide it before stepping forward to grab her case. "I suppose you plan on staying in the guest room."

"If it's alright with you." Renee gave him a smile. He didn't respond, electing instead to pick up the case and begin going upstairs. He didn't need to turn around to see the disapproval she wore. She would be annoyed that he was doing it for her instead of having a servant do so.

"Have you had lunch?" He asked her. Despite not wanting her here, he was still bound to decency.

"I packed a little something for the coach ride." She said, her footsteps heavy on the stairs. "But I'll join you for supper."

"I'm busy," he lied through his teeth.

"Taking care of business, I suppose?" Said Renee, striding through the guest room as soon as Edwin opened the door. He followed her in and set the case down on a set of drawers. "You know, your sister just wrote me. She said she's expecting--Lord Grisham is pleased, of course, but it's at such a bad time. He's just gone to travel through the Orient. I can't believe the poor thing has to deal with her pregnancy on her own. When I tell you I had to stop myself from saying I told her so, after how far she moved away from us."

Edwin remained in the doorway, watching Renee putter about as if she were trying to find something hidden in the room.

"You think Rosalie would have taken that?"

"What would she have done," Renee said, finally giving up and sitting on the bed. "Sent me another strongly worded letter?"

Edwin said nothing, thinking of Rosalie's reply that time. She'd gotten so fed up by Renee's overbearing nature, even through letters, that Rosalie had sent a whole two pages filled with barbs that amounted to 'sod off, mother'.

Renee had sniffed, pushed the letter aside, and said, "She'll come to her senses one day."

To some degree, Edwin envied his older sister. Before she left to pursue the proposal she received from overseas, she'd come by to visit him. He knew that Rosalie had been subject to even more of their mother's tendencies than he ever had, so he didn't question her choice to get married and escape being an Archambault.

She'd laughed her easygoing and warm laugh, leaned forward with her chin in hand. Positively unladylike. "You know, I realized that the only way to get mother to understand us is by doing something so shocking--disappoint her so much that she has no choice but to never expect anything of you again."

Edwin had given his sister a tight smile. "Aren't you doing exactly what she wants you to, though? Getting married and leaving home?"

Rosalie rolled her eyes. "I somehow thought that my marrying a man thirty years my senior would have bothered her, but at that she didn't bat an eye. But me moving overseas, away from her reach? All I'll say is good luck getting twice the usual attention, Edwin."

And indeed, Renee hadn't ceased to bother Edwin for any developments on the matter of his marriage, writing every week with suggestions for 'beautiful eligible bachelorettes' that would be absolutely perfect for him.

He never responded to the letters, and every few months she would go mad with the lack of news and show up at his estate. After the last time, which had only been a fortnight past, he'd been so angry that he went straight to Willoughby's to 'explore his actions', as Clarence had suggested many times in the past.

It only took one visit after that to see Lucia sitting there and thusly know that he was committing the best sin against his mother he could think of. Certainly, it was to his benefit how he found it personally gratifying, as well.

"Either way, I'll see you at supper, Edwin."

"I just said I'm busy." He said stiffy. "I'll be out."

She gave him a hard look. "If you say so, dearest. But don't think for a moment I don't know you're lying."

He left after that, feeling much more shaken than the conversation warranted. He strode into his room, where Lucia had been lounging on the bed reading. She closed it immediately, sitting up straight as soon as the door opened. She seemed to notice his sour mood immediately, though, her warm brown eyes trained on him.

"Get dressed. We're going out."

"Out?" She said, her head tilting to the side.

"Have you ever been to a restaurant?"

"No." She said, and there was a bit of an amused expression on her face, like she wasn't sure if he was being serious or not.

"Today's the day, then." He forced himself to slow down, iron out the stormy anger that'd made his features stony. He pulled out a jacket and then sat on the bed, watching Lucia as she picked out a long black dress that went to the floor. It was a little dark for the usual clientele, but her face was sweet enough to offset the 'severe governess' look that the dress invited.

This was definitely not in his plans when he purchased Lucia, but the situation called for it. He didn't want to remain home just to give his mother the chance to bother him even more.

She followed him down the hall--the two of them were nearly silent as they walked, but immediately Renee looked up from inside the room and called out.

"Oh! And who is this young lady?"

Lucia froze, casting a fearful glance at Edwin. He pulled her by the elbow towards the stairs and behind him.

"Lucia." He answered.

"So these are the plans you have for supper," said Renee, her eyes running over Lucia. "I don't recognize you, Miss. What family are you from?"

"I bought her," Edwin said woodenly, turning back around and gently pushing Lucia down the stairs.

"Edwin!" Renee sounded absolutely scandalized as she got up to follow them to the hallway.

"It's done, mother. They don't negotiate on sold goods."

"Come back here and explain to me what you're talking about." She grit out from her teeth, but by that time Edwin had pushed Lucia out of the front door and he himself was already halfway out.

"Sorry, mother. We can't be late for our reservation."

He gave a small sigh of relief as the door shut behind them. They had no reservations at all, of course, and he was thankful that he could end the conversation so quickly. He couldn't have thought of any better justification as to why he'd practically shoved Lucia through the doorway.

He was always so weak to his mother.

He shook his head as he spoke to Richard. The man had already been sitting outside with a half-prepared carriage, as if he knew that he might be needed. Neither of the men acknowledged it though, as Richard finished preparing the carriage for departure.

It wasn't until Edwin helped Lucia into the carriage and then entered it himself that he noticed that Lucia's expression was different than her usual stoicism. There was a tiny wrinkle at her brow, a fraction of a percentage more tension there than there normally would have been.

When Edwin bought the girl, he told himself he wasn't going to let himself get involved in her emotional affairs. It'd been a firm condition he promised to himself. After all, he didn't have the mental space, nor the interest to take care of a woman's flightiness, neediness, hysteria. It would be more trouble than it was worth, and he'd certainly paid enough to not care.

But the longer he looked at Lucia and the way she avoided looking at him, the more he felt the need to say something.

"What's the matter, little one?"

"Nothing, sir."

It bothered him.

"It doesn't sound like you're being truthful." He said, and he hated how he reminded himself of his mother.

Lucia didn't respond, only keeping her eyes trained out the carriage window. Edwin cleared his throat, shifting in his seat to force himself to relax. He was being more than generous, after all, by asking after her distress. It was unreasonable for him to chase after the fragile whims of a woman's mood.

"You called me sold goods." She whispered at last. "Like I've been used and now I'm worth nothing."

He remained in place, holding himself carefully still even though the carriage passing over stones underneath them jostled them back and forth.

He was supposed to stay clear of her emotions, to not try to soothe the flightiness of a young girl. He just had to stay silent and teach her that unreasonable emotions wouldn't be rewarded.

"I just meant to say it's been done. At this point I couldn't get rid of you even if I wanted to." It was worse than if he'd said nothing at all, and he knew how pathetic he sounded.

"I apologize for being a burden, Master Archambault."

He stared at her.

"You're not."

She didn't answer, and he gave an impatient sigh.

"Lucia, you--"

"Why did you buy me?" Her voice was barely audible over the crunching of rocks, but it made Edwin freeze just the same as if she'd yelled it. When he couldn't bring himself to answer, she shrugged. "I'm sorry for my assumptions about... the nature of our arrangement."

Lucia tried not to let her fingers twist in the fine fabric of her skirt, this suffocatingly beautiful dress that had at first made her feel elegant. That was, until that woman with the pinched mouth that Edwin had called mother stopped them and he'd said what he did. It left her feeling so silly, like she was a child playing dress up with her mother's borrowed clothes.

She couldn't quite put words to why she felt so bold to speak any of it into existence--but after what happened earlier in the day she thought that maybe things had changed between them. And that, too, made her feel even more embarrassed, because it turned out that he saw her as goods he'd bought, anyways.

She was nothing more than a warm body for him to use at his pleasure, and it was her own ridiculous imagination, her vapid head filled with fictional stories of knights and princesses, that had given her delusions otherwise.

She knew exactly what to expect of him--he was the same fear-inspiring man that had walked in to the barn and purchased her--and expecting anything other than cold calculation and self-absorbed dominance was a mistake. She wanted to laugh, because everything she was thinking was only confirmed by the silence he maintained. But inexplicably, that laughter was coupled with the ache of tears at the back of her eyes.

Stupid girl. She scolded herself, and when she said it she imagined it in her mother's voice. It made her feel infinitely worse, and she crossed her arms over her middle, wishing that would make her feel just a little bit better.

She almost jumped out of her skin when Edwin reached across her and pulled her hand towards him.

Lucia blankly looked at him as he rearranged her hand, putting it atop her knee and then placing his own hand on top.

"Don't stop needing me." He said to her at last, and she neither had any idea what that meant nor what she was supposed to say to something like that.

So Lucia stayed silent and let him remain like that, his hand enveloping hers. Her question wasn't answered, but his odd words made the knot of tension in her chest loosen.

Nothing else was said between them as the carriage rolled on, the thick trees around them giving way to open dusky skies. Eventually, they approached the city--forest giving way to tall grey buildings, smoke, and grime. Her parents had never had any reason to venture into the city, nor take Lucia there, but she'd nevertheless never liked it. It was dirty, there were too many people, and besides, it certainly wasn't anywhere that little Theo could go.

"I was betrothed, once." Edwin said. After sitting in silence for so long, the interruption felt more rude than it really was. Although, once it sank in, Lucia had to turn to him with a question in her eyes. His fingers tensed around her hand but he carried on, maintaining his casual cadence of speech.

"My mother didn't approve of her. She wasn't from the upper echelons, like an Archambault's wife should be. As a compromise and at my mother's insistence, I agreed to make introductions. Take my betrothed to meet others of high society, since she was to be my wife, after all.

"I thought I was doing things right, and I'd finally made my mother see that I had the right to make decisions for myself. But when we arrived... My mother had arranged a humiliating affair. Giselle was devastated, turned away from me without another glance back. I can hardly blame her. I'd have done the same."

Lucia knew she should say something, even if to acknowledge she heard him at all, but she couldn't think of anything. What could she produce in light of such a heavy revelation? Not to mention it completely went against her entire perception of who he was.

"I told myself I wouldn't let anyone wrest control from me again."

She swallowed.

"And in the years since I've succeeded."

He looked away from her, out the window on his side, and said nothing more.

She could tell he didn't expect her to say anything. And she was glad for it, for she was still unsure about what he meant to say. Sure, she understood what he was saying, but the question still remained of why he was telling her at all, and how it had anything to do with what she'd asked.

It was clearly supposed to be an answer to her question, an explanation of why he chose Lucia in the barn--but still the question remained unanswered, and Edwin only became more of a mystery.

Above all, she felt sad for this version of Edwin. Lucia had no idea what he'd been like before all of this happened, but she could imagine that he must've been a little more free, perhaps a little bit more affectionate, too. She'd witnessed the coldness with which he treated his mother, and she could imagine that once, they'd had a better relationship, too.

Although, perhaps he had always been like this. She had no way of knowing.

"When we enter," Edwin said, still staring out the window. "You will be stared at. I will find us a private room, but until then keep your head up high and don't be intimidated."

Lucia followed his gaze out the window, and the sudden change in their surroundings made her heart skip a beat. This was not the city she was familiar with; she belatedly realized that the streets underneath them were smooth cobblestone, and the buildings around them had become beautiful stone and polished wood. She'd never imagined she would be in a place like this, much less that it existed at all.

"Can you do that for me?" He turned to her, and it registered that he wanted an answer this time.

Lucia gave an uncertain nod, and when she spoke, her voice came out dry. "I'll do my best."

A pale ghost of a smile curved his lips as he turned back towards the window, and neither of them said anything more until the carriage slowed to a stop.

He helped her step down from the carriage, and it struck her how odd it felt to have a gentleman offer his hand to her in this manner. Well, part of her knew that he was anything but gentlemanly--her stomach twisted at the memory of his weight on top of her--but in practice that was precisely what he was, and she was being forced to confront that fact.

She followed him as he swept into a large elaborate-looking building with large windows and warm lights.

"Master Archambault, welcome in." A man wearing spectacles gave a small bow to Edwin.

Edwin nodded. "Do you have any private rooms available for the evening?"

"Of course, sir. Please, follow me."

Lucia felt the man's eyes run over her in a smooth fashion, but he said nothing and was stepping by them to go down the hall. She stepped forward, ready to follow, but Edwin stopped her, offering his arm. She stayed still for a moment, for some reason feeling like taking it was a step too far--in what direction, she wasn't sure. When it seemed apparent she wasn't going to move, he took her hand in his and placed it in the crook of his arm.

"Come on." He said lowly, and then the two of them walked after the man, just a bit more slowly than Lucia wanted to.

Faint music had been audible from the lobby, but when the man held open the heavy double doors for them at the end of the hallway sounds of a pianoforte being masterfully played drifted out.

She didn't expect there to be so many people, but when the door opened she heard the low sounds of their chatter. And when she stepped forward with Edwin to skirt past them along the wall, she could feel the difference. It didn't change, not in sound; people still spoke just as they had been doing. But Edwin had been right about their staring, and the feeling of their eyes on her immediately made a prickle of discomfort skitter down her spine.

Her hand tightened on Edwin's arm as she recalled what he'd said and somewhat forcibly kept her nose up in the air. She did want to shrink away, look down toward the floor, and perhaps it was because he'd known it would be so that he warned her not to do so.

Everyone here looked elegant, from the manner of their clothing to the way they sat up tall. The few women who were here had their hair pinned up in beautiful curls and rouge on their cheeks. For the first time in her life, Lucia felt self-conscious of her bare face and loosely hanging curls.

She wished that Edwin would walk faster, match the pace of the man who was showing them to where they were going, but he maintained that same slow pace as they walked through the room.

She gave a sigh of relief when they made it through the large room and into another hallway.

"Here is your room, sir." The man held open a door for them to enter through. "We will be by soon with your dinner."

And then it was the two of them left.

Her heart jumped when Edwin reached for the hand she had on his arm, but he loosened it off of him and gently lowered it. She hadn't even realized she'd been holding him so tightly.

"They're not worth being so worried about," he said, striding past her and sitting at the long and elegantly set table. Uncertainly, Lucia followed, sitting across from hi. There was amusement on Edwin's face. "Most of them are soft, harmless. Until you give them something interesting to gossip about."

Lucia nodded like she understood what he was talking about, but she couldn't be any more clueless. As far as she was concerned, all of them were like aliens, and no amount of Edwin calling them harmless would make her feel any better.

Just then, two men entered the room, each holding what Lucia could only describe as a big metal bowl turned upside down. She watched them as they lifted the metal bowls with a flourish, revealing small plates pieces of bread on them, some sort of meaty paste smeared on top and a little leaf laid on each one.

"Your relishes." One of them said.

The other one stepped forward with a dark green bottle wrapped in pristine white cloth. He presented it to Edwin, whose eyes passed over the tiny script on the label. "Yes, that'll do."

The man nodded, producing a tiny knife from his pocket. He sliced the foil at the top and twisted a spiraling piece of metal into the cork, pulling it free with a soft pop. And then, with practiced elegance he poured a shallow inch of the dark wine into a glass and then offered it to her.

"Madam?" He said, holding it out to her with an expectant expression. She cast a fearful glance to Edwin, unsure of what to do.

Edwin cleared his throat. "That's quite all right. I can do the tasting."

She let out a breath of relief as the man pivoted to give the glass to Edwin, who swirled it once and then took a sip.

"Excellent," said Edwin, handing the glass back. The server began to fill their glasses and then the two men were walking out.

Lucia felt embarrassed by the whole ordeal, which she still couldn't make sense of, but Edwin didn't comment on it as he picked up one of the little breads and offered it to her. "This is called rillette."

She was happy enough to pretend that the odd interaction hadn't just happened and took it from him, this foreign piece of food with its silly leaf. Her jaw ached as soon as she took a bite out of it; she didn't expect for it to be so flavorful, so rich that it coated her tongue and her teeth.

"How do you like it?" He'd been watching for her reaction.

She nodded, hurriedly swallowing her bite and coughing. "Very good."

"Great." He took a bite out of his own, and Lucia forced herself to relax and eat some more. It really was delicious, intense flavors that she hadn't experienced before.

For the most part they sat in silence, both of them enjoying the rillette. After so many days of being in his presence, especially remaining nude--and her heart raced when she thought of that--there was little to no awkwardness between them. But she had to admit to even herself, as she chewed thoughtfully on the bread, that this felt much different. Now, they were sitting side by side, both completely clothed, and technically in polite company.

That might be too much of a stretch, really. They were in public, at the very least, and most of the interactions they had were certainly unfit for public. It made her feel embarrassed, even though the summoned images of unchaste things were solely in her own imagination, and she was relieved when a couple more servers knocked on the door and walked in.

They were holding another set of those large metal bowls, and when they the plates onto the table she knew her eyes widened. She hadn't known food could be like this, little chunks of meat with bones sticking up, sitting in a little pool of something dark and sticky. Steam rose from each plate, and with it, their delicious smell.

She jerked backwards when one of the servers picked up the white rolled up bundle of cloth from beside her, and watched his odd behavior as he unfurled it and set out multiple utensils from it onto the table. She stiffened as he shook out the cloth and then reached around her without permission to set it in her lap.

From across the table, Edwin watched her coolly, and she clamped her mouth shut to keep herself from making any sound of discomfort.

"Enjoy." The one who'd violated her space said, and then they were leaving again.

Lucia looked down at the utensils, her heart still fluttering from fear over what'd just happened. The utensils, tools that should be mundane and reassuring, only made her feel worse. They'd neatly been lined up with care, but there were three forks and two knives, a small spoon and a big one, and to her each one was more odd than the next.

"I don't..." Her voice came out in a whisper, and she knew her face betrayed how overwhelmed she felt.

"Just choose the one you like best." He said to her kindly, and it made her feel much better than it should have.

As she looked down and considered which of the knives and forks she fancied most, he stood up.

"Go on. Eat first. I'll be right back." He didn't wait for her to respond before he pushed open the door and left, and the little warmth that had filled her drained away.

Sitting alone at this long table made her feel weary, a little glum. Even though she didn't want to be so dependent on Edwin's presence for comfort, she had to admit that it was more important than she thought. His absence made her feel so much worse about everything.

She rearranged the cloth napkin in her lap, poked and prodded at the sea of utensils in front of her, but when Edwin still hadn't returned she finally pulled one of the warm plates to her. It somehow felt wrong to use the biggest or the smallest fork, so she chose the one in between the two and then drug its tines through the dark sauce. She put it to the tip of her tongue, surprised that it was as sweet as it was sticky.

It would be most proper to wait for Edwin to return before starting to eat, but it smelled so good and the steam coming off the meat was starting to dissipate. Tentatively, she picked up the smaller of the two knives, and cut herself a piece of the meat.

It was more than a little gamey and the taste was unfamiliar, but she was surprised by just how much she liked it. Her stomach growled in a demand for more, and with a glance towards the door she cut herself another piece.

She got through maybe half of one of the pieces of meat, cutting small pieces away and chewing them thoroughly, when Edwin returned.

Lucia knew something was wrong as soon as he walked in, his expression unhappy and his body stiff.

"Get up." He said. She froze in her seat, looking up at him with confusion. "Lucia, I said get up."

She did as he said, clutching the napkin to her midsection as she stood, but remained rooted in place. "Are we leaving?"

It wasn't necessarily that she wanted to stay or anything. She was just both concerned and nervous about his anger. Her heart raced in her chest as he walked to her and snaked a hand through her hair, pulling her head backwards.

She gave a panicked yelp.

"Undress, now."

"H-here?"

The fist in her hair tightened. Edwin raising his eyebrows was all she needed for Lucia to comply, raising trembling hands to undo the buttons of her dress.

The servants had been coming in and out without permission the whole time they'd been there, and that was all that Lucia could think about as she faced Edwin's scrutiny. She kept sneaking glances at the door, her heart thundering in her chest, but Edwin's smoldering eyes remained fastened on her.

"All the way," he prompted her, and so with a sick feeling in her stomach she stepped out of the dress, laying it on her chair.

She gasped as he used the grip on her hair to spin her around, bending her over so she was grasping onto the backs of one of the chairs.

"Please," she whispered, terrified of his actions.

But it seemed Edwin was done trying to make her feel better for the night, because he only answered by swiping a finger between her legs.

To her terror, it slipped through easily.

"You're aroused by this, are you?" He said roughly, and Lucia let out a shuddering, humiliated breath, as she heard him start to undo his buttons. But she was too afraid to do anything but remain in place, her arms shaking as she gripped onto the chair.

She whispered prayers that no one would walk in, at least not until Edwin had his way with her and they were back in their seats. She couldn't imagine the humiliation that would flush through her, a shame that would never leave her, if someone were to walk into her grasping onto this chair, being thrust into from behind.

And it was like that thought manifested into reality, because without ceremony he pushed into her.

A strangled gasp left her mouth, one whose sound she could barely bite back, because despite the lubrication her body had produced she was not ready to be entered. But it seemed that didn't matter, because he was penetrating her, pushing and pulling against her insides and making her cry out with the friction of each stroke.

He shushed her, a hand wrapping around and squeezing the nape of her neck from behind.

"You don't want them to think I'm inside here," he grunted. "Fucking a whore, do you?"

At his coarse words, she gave a soft moan. Her legs trembled against resisting him and the grip he had on her hip, but it somehow only added to the little pleasure that had started to build in her.

Somehow, this absolutely was arousing her... and he knew it.

He fucked her like he knew that each thrust caused a dull pang of pleasure to run through her, that every time his cock bumped against the end of her passage it made her fall apart just a little bit more. He gripped her hard, with one hand on the back of her neck and the other on her hip, and that too added to the helplessness running through her, keeping her bent over this chair.

It was humiliating.

But it was delicious.

Because he entered her before her body was ready, she felt sore between her legs. Each movement made her grit her teeth against how it grated against her insides, and it made his hardness feel even more hot than it was--filling her with heat that she couldn't escape.

She wasn't sure if she wanted to escape it.

Lucia was starting to fall back into that space, where all rational thought was out the window. All she could do, or all she wanted to do was to do everything that Edwin asked of her. It was the dark part of her soul that craved his roughness, the crass way with which he treated her.

It was almost laughable how after the question she'd asked of him earlier, his cock rubbing against her most hidden desires made her want his rough and careless treatment.

He was making her used goods, and she loved it.

He groaned, and impossibly his hands tightened on her.

She didn't know whether her soft cries were a result from the pleasure of each thrust, the ache from each finger he had curled into her flesh, or the searing pain inside her as he used her. But nevertheless, she was making indecent sounds and she could do nothing to stop them.

Edwin began to move quicker, his grunts growing deeper. His arms wrapped around her body, lifting her torso so that she was standing with her back against his chest. He breathed raggedly directly into her ear, and the masculine sounds, the heat of his breath, it made shivers run down her spine even as she was being fucked.

He was halfway carrying her as he ground into her tightness, only the tips of her shoes resting against the carpeted floor.

Lucia swallowed her cries when he bit the side of her neck, panting as he abruptly stopped his thrusting. It was the only thing keeping her from moaning in despair, because he was cumming into her.

She felt warmth, wetness, flood within her as he held her suspended in mid-air. Her hands clutched uselessly at the thick arms he had wrapped around her, the heat of his seed splashing against her raw insides adding to her pain and making her eyes grow wet from the uncomfortable sensation.

It felt like she was in his arms like that for a full minute before he lowered her, allowing her to catch herself on her feet. She still gripped onto the smooth wood of the chair's back, though, because her legs were still shaking after all that'd happened.

She was scared to turn around and face Edwin. She could only hope that his upset had been mollified, but the fact remained that she'd just been violated in more ways than none. That he'd taken her here, where they were supposed to be eating, pushed their unbalanced relationship to the forefront of her mind.

She refused to look at him as she picked up her dress and began putting it back on. She didn't care whether or not he approved of her getting dressed. She would cover her nakedness.

The worst part of all, she thought to herself as her fingers struggled with the buttons, was that she hadn't minded that imbalance. No--she liked it.

Despite the soreness between her legs and where she could still feel his fingers on her hips, despite her heart that was for some reason more raw after he'd humiliatingly fucked her over the dinner table, and despite the feeling that she was nothing more than a plaything for him to use and then discard...

Lucia smoothed a hand over her mussed hair.

She liked it. And she hated herself for it.

-

She didn't say one word to him, not as they hurriedly and awkwardly finished the meal, and certainly not as they walked out of the restaurant. A sliver of regret sparked in his chest when he watched her eat, when he thought of how her mood had changed so dramatically. She'd been afraid, he saw, of being somewhere so new. She was even flighty around the waitstaff. He kept his face still when they offered her the privilege of tasting the wine, but it had been quite endearing to see her panic.

In fact, it was seeing how she'd jumped when they helped her with her silverware that had made him leave the room to go request they be left alone until they were done eating. Something told him she'd prefer to no longer be disturbed, and that she would be perfectly happy without the remaining couple of courses.

But just as he finished speaking with the steward, he didn't expect to be loudly confronted by Francis Belrose, a portly and somewhat belligerent man with red cheeks and red hair.

"Edwin! Good to see you out and about."

"Mister Belrose." Edwin raised his eyebrows. "It's been quite a while."

"Well," said Francis. "I've been kept busy. My niece had a baby recently."

Edwin's breath caught in his chest, though he covered it up the best he could. "That's wonderful news."

"Isn't it?" Francis said, a little bit too jovially. "Was glad to see her settle down. Her husband can be a little daft, but he's a goodhearted fellow. Treats her well, and loyal to boot."

"That's wonderful." Edwin said again, unable to find something different to say.

Francis smiled. "I'm glad you think so, too. Would you like me to give her your regards? I'm sure Giselle would be interested to see how you're doing."

"I wouldn't think so." Edwin's face hardened, a rock dropping into his stomach at the mere mention of her name. Francis knew exactly what he was doing.

"Oh, but I'm sure she would be thrilled to hear about your own marriage. I've heard the whispers about your mother asking about finding you a bride. I didn't hear that she'd found success, but it seems like you settled down quickly with that young lady you walked in with." Francis was speaking a little bit too loudly, and it was working. A couple of people sitting in a booth near Francis and Edwin looked towards them. One of them even had a bit of an amused expression on his face.

It made Edwin's temper flare, and he pressed it all down.

"Unless that wasn't your wife." Francis said it lightly enough, but the implication was clear.

"It seems you may need to find other sources for your news, then." And before he completely lost his temper, Edwin gave Francis a curt nod. "If you'll excuse me, Mister Belrose."

It was only when he walked away that he let anger touch his features.

When he walked into the room, saw Lucia's expression go from curiosity to fear, it'd made his desire spike. What he did was the only thing he could think to do in the moment. After all, the staff had promised not to disturb them again.

He'd given in to his basest desires, and normally he'd have no regrets about it. But Lucia had become cold to him, visibly upset and refusing to look at him, even as she allowed Edwin to help her into the carriage.

It was when the carriage began to move that he heard it. A little sniff.

He remained still, unsure what to do as something twisted in his chest. All of his earlier resolve to not get involved with her emotions had evaporated, and he was doing exactly what he'd vowed not to do.

She sniffed again, and in the corner of his eye Edwin saw her shoulders shake.

He let out another slow breath, and before he could stop himself he shifted, moving closer to her and wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

It was immediate how she fell apart in his hands.

Lucia turned to face him with cheeks already streaked with tears, and buried her face into his chest. She turned fully, her legs curling up against his. Her sobs were quiet, but her body shook as she cried.

Over what, specifically, Edwin didn't know. But he knew that it was because of him. And even though he told himself he didn't care, the nauseating guilt in him begged to differ.

He was glad that he at least felt guilty about making her cry, because there was something else. It split his attention as he stroked his fingers through the golden lengths of her hair.

There was darkness in him. It was the part of him that had gotten hard as soon as he strode back into the room full of anger, had immediately thought to make her strip, surrender, open herself to be claimed by him. Not only was it still there, but seeing her fall apart in his hands fed it, made it stronger.

Edwin had been the one to make her cry, had been the one to upset and hurt her, but still she was choosing to burrow into him, clutching his shirt as she cried into him.

All it did was activate his lust, make him want to fuck her until she was trembling while speared open by him and looking at him with those intoxicatingly submissive eyes.

The part that was most dangerous of all was that if he gave into his urges again, she would let him--and so the only one that could stop him was himself.