Bound by Bliss (Bound and Determined #2)(90)

Her fingers relaxed slightly, but did not let go.

There was absolute silence between them for several moments.

He waited unsure of what would follow.

Again she parted her lips and then shut them.

He could feel the words she wanted to say and could not.

Finally she took a deep breath. “I am not a foolish child. I have reasons for feeling as I do, for feeling as I did.”

“I have never thought you were foolish, Bliss. And if I thought you were a child at seventeen, I certainly don’t now. You have explained your feelings to me and I understand them, even if I do not agree. You are too wonderful a woman to settle for less than you deserve and a comfortable marriage is less than you deserve. I want you, Bliss. I need you, Bliss. But if you do not think that I can make you happy then find someone who can. Do not choose someone just because they don’t make you tingle, don’t make you want more. Choose someone who will make life an adventure. You are too full of life to be ordinary.”

She pushed herself up on her elbows. “Sometimes I think you see me too well, Stephan. It can be a little scary.”

“I want only what is best for you, Bliss.”

She bit down on her lower lip, chewing slightly on the already swollen flesh. “I begin to believe you.”

“To trust me?”

“Perhaps.” She bit down hard, her teeth indenting the lush curve.



He could see the consideration in her gaze, feel the measurement of her words. “Do you really want what is best for me, want to make me happy?”

He reached out and stroked her lip, gentling the bite of her teeth. “Yes, always.”

She drew in a deep long breath, held it, released it slowly. “Then, yes, I will marry you, Stephan. I will.”





Chapter Twenty-four


Bliss opened one blurry eye and then the other. Her body ached. She could not remember ever feeling like this before. Her shoulders. Her breasts. Her thighs. Every piece of her made itself known. She opened the other eye and stared dimly up at herself in the mirror. The room was dark except for one sputtering candle—and she did not want to think about candles—but it was enough to see that she looked much the worse for wear. Her skin was pallid, with dark shadows beneath the barely open eyes. Her hair was a tangle, a witch’s broom, the curls a riot about her head. She looked like she’d had exactly the night she’d had.

A weight shifted in the bed beside her.

Oh God, what had she done?

With painful recollection all the events of the night flowed back to her.

She couldn’t have. She really couldn’t have.

But she had. She truly had.

Her stomach roiled.

She couldn’t even blame it all on too much drink. Not a single drop had passed her lips.

She glared down at her tender body, at all the evidence of their night of play. Memories of the night surrounded her, memories of ecstasy, memories of honesty. Of such honesty.

Her eyes snapped closed. Maybe she was still dreaming. She could not, would not have said yes. She protected herself and always had. Saying yes to Duldon would be foolishness. And yes, in the cold light of morning he was Duldon again. If only she hadn’t let herself think of him as Stephan during the long hours of the night. Stephan was the boy she had cared for so much and the young man she had trusted. Duldon was…



She couldn’t even think about what Duldon was.

And was it morning? What time?

Surely Duldon would have woken her in time to get home before the maids came with morning tea? She could only be glad that at this time of year there were no fires to be lit.

What time was it?

The room had no windows, no clue that the world outside even existed.

She took a peek at Duldon. He lay buried in the covers, only a small portion of his face peering out, and he was dead asleep. He looked as if a marching army wouldn’t wake him.

She’d really tired him out. Her mouth started to curl up in satisfaction, but she tamped it down. She would not take pride in the fact, she wouldn’t.

With some care she eased from the bed, worried of waking him. He grunted. He groaned. He muttered something that sounded far too much like her name as he grabbed a pillow and snuggled into it. And then with a snort, he settled back to sleep.

Her clothing still lay in the pile where she had left it. Donning it quickly, she rejoiced that she had thought to wear a simple gown that required no maid to help with the laces. The thought of wandering about Madame Rouge’s searching for help was beyond her.



Quickly she ran her fingers through her hair, doing her best to tuck and smooth the unruly strands. A few scattered pins mixed in with her clothing and she shoved them in slightly haphazardly. Placing the cloak about her shoulders, Bliss glanced about looking for the mask. Steph—Duldon’s clothing lay neatly folded on a side table. Why did that not surprise her? She hadn’t seen him do it, but things about him just always fell into place. The mask was not there.

Not wanting to waste any further time, she pulled the cloak’s hood up and carefully walked to the door, not wanting any squeak of board or heavy step to wake her sleeping prince.

No. No. No. Do not think of him that way. No.

Easing the door open she slid through, holding her breath for any sound from the bed. There were a few soft, endearing snores, but no other noise. Closing the door behind her, she lay her head against the cool dark wood and closed her eyes.