Two weeks and a day...I'm getting better at this :)
Hope you enjoy!
Read on, my brave warriors!
I found it almost unreal, how much everything around me had not changed. The next morning when I walked into the breakfast room, my heart light and carefree, feeling completely different than I had the day before, Henry only looked up at me to say good morning, before returning to his paper, as he always did. I could not help but feel shocked as I sat down opposite him at the end of the long table, my breakfast seeming as if it appeared magically in front of me, I was so distracted. Toying with my eggs, I tried to make sense of it all – to me, everything was different now. It was as if I had been living in darkness, trapped in a pocket of eternal night, and I was only just stepping into the sunlight: pure happiness was dazzling me, the world now so bright everything around me looked totally different, colours seeming heightened, the sky bluer than it had been before. It was strange to find that no one else could see it, but I supposed they should not: their childhood sweetheart had not come back as if from the dead, after all.
But even so, I could hardly believe no one else felt it – personally, I felt as if I was a whole new person, and the world that had been so familiar to me yesterday now seemed like a half-remembered dream. It left me a little stunned, and I could barely understand how I had managed to live this way for so long.
I spent the morning staring out of the window absently as the ladies around me sewed, the room almost silent apart from the sharp taps of needles hitting porcelain thimbles. I could feel their inquisitive gazes on me, another one looking up from their work every minute to stare at me. Personally, I was attempting not to scream at the monotony of it all – I did not want to sew, I did not want to sit, I did not want to fix a smile on my face and pretend that I was happy this way any longer. I knew I must, but I also knew what was there for me, only a few corridors away; it was agony. Eventually, when even attempting to distract myself with happy thoughts of Edward had ceased to make me less frustrated, and the ladies had begun to chatter so cacophonously I was worried I would soon explode, I made my excuses and hurried out of the room, hoping that Rosalie would have the foresight to distract them all.
Needing fresh air and space and sky, I went out into the grounds, leaving my cloak behind – it was warm enough, I thought, to wander outside in my heavy winter dress, as autumn was only just beginning to fall across the country. I walked until I was clear of the house, towards the hills where I knew no one would be able to see me, then I spread out my arms, taking in deep breaths of clean, sunny air. Closing my eyes, I sighed and let my mind go blank, trying to forget all my troubles and go back to simply being, without all the complications that came with living. How on earth was I going to do it? How was I going to keep living this way? Was there any chance of escape for me? I did not know. All I knew was that hope was spreading through me, coursing through my body, making me believe all over again that there was a chance: hope was deadly. I had been hoping before, and I ended up crushed when those dreams came to nothing...I was not sure if I was able to go through the loss again. Perhaps it really would drive me mad this time.
A welcome voice shook me out of my dark thoughts.
"Good morning, your Grace." I knew who it was before I even turned around, and I smiled to find Edward standing there among the bright blue skies, bowing formally. I laughed a little, continuing the charade.
"Good morning, Mr Cullen," I curtseyed, smiling coyly at him, "How are you this morning, sir?"
Instead of answering, Edward stepped towards me and pulled me off my feet in one swift movement, pressing his lips to mine with a smile. Joy overtook me again, sweeping through my body, clearing away all the ghosts and shadows and leaving only elation in its place. I flung my arms around him and kissed him back with all I had, losing myself in him as he set me back down on the ground and moved in deeper, holding me close to him, his hands rough at my waist. "Mmm," he murmured against my lips, kissing me so hard I was breathless and dizzy, yet unable to even take a breath, I was so engrossed in him, "I missed you...and you know what is wonderful?"
"What?" I whispered, clinching myself around him so tight I could feel his heartbeat clearly – he smiled at me, kissing me gently again before he answered.
"Now I do not." He chuckled gently, "Four years all seems worth it now," he kissed me, smiling, "For this."
"Come on," I managed to disentangle myself after a few more minutes, taking his arm and wrapping it around my shoulders, leaning happily into his side, "We should get away from here."
"As long as I may stay with you, I will do anything you wish," he replied, his voice calm and quiet, as it always was when he was happy.
We walked together, our destination of no consequence – occasionally he would stop, point something out to me in the distance: tell me a story or what it reminded him of. I was just glad to have him there, and I felt as if I could listen to his voice until the end of time itself. Eventually we found ourselves beneath an oak tree, propped up against the trunk; I had closed my eyes, content, when abruptly his low humming stopped up short, replaced by a low, heartfelt sigh.
"Edward?" I glanced up at him to find his mouth turned down at the corners, eyes raised – I rolled over to kneel beside him, trying to catch his gaze, "Edward, what is it?"
"The leaves," he murmured – I looked up, to see a solitary red-golden leaf above us, bright amongst its green brethren, probably the first of the season. I hardly found this unusual, and I told him so; I was surprised when he sighed deeply, sounding troubled. "My mother's hair is exactly the same colour," Edward said, dropping his eyes now and rubbing his fingers together, a dark shadow stealing its way across his face. I bit my lip, sitting back on my heels and trying to think of something to say – a sharp pang of guilt shot through me when he whispered, "I miss them."
I tried hard not to let the tears that were pooling in my eyes fall, tried hard to forget that I knew exactly how he felt. Unbidden, as much as I was trying to think only of him, my own Mother and Father crept into my mind – Papa's smile, Mama's laugh...how they had looked when life had left them, cold, white...still. Edward still had his head down, so I was able to quickly wipe my cheeks dry, sniffing and pushing the ghosts away, knowing there was nothing I could do for either of them now. "Edward?" I bent down, finally catching his eye – I shuffled closer, taking his hands, "It will be alright, I promise you. You will see them again. Trust me: I know exactly how it feels."
He smiled and nodded, drew me back into his arms – I settled there, resting against his chest, but as I looked up at him again I saw there was still a shadow behind his eyes, so deep and dark, a shadow I had never seen before. I ignored it, turning my gaze away and shutting my eyes: but I knew Edward was no better than I was.
Edward and I, much as though we liked to think that neither of us had been changed by our experiences apart, were different. We had both been twisted, altered, what I sometimes thought was beyond either of our recognition. There were things that had happened that neither of us could forget. There were moments, even in those first few weeks, where something would cross Edward's face that I had never seen before, or he would say something that sounded totally unsuited to him, and I knew it was because a part of him had been broken. Just like me. We had each other – but there was so much we had both lost. Before, when we were younger, I had known him inside and out – everything he said ran in line with how I knew his mind worked, and what thoughts crossed his mind. Recently, however, I sensed his thoughts had taken a much darker turn: I could not read him so well anymore. Of course, that did not mean we had not grown even closer than we had been before – within the first few days I felt as if he were part of me again, and by now he seemed to have settled underneath my skin so I was constantly aware of his presence in the world.
The first time we had been properly together, it had been sweet, gentle...two young adults sharing in something they knew nothing about. We had thought of nothing but each other, and even though Edward had only the slightest knowledge about what he was doing, and I even less than that...it had still been the most electrifying and exhilarating night of my life. His touch had been soft, his hands gentle and caring, his kiss slow and sultry, as if we had had all the time in the world...it had not been urgent, or passionately hasty, hands ripping and tearing and pushing onward simply because the need was so strong that there was no time to wait...no. We had been young, and love like that – rushing, consuming, fiery, desperate love – was something neither of us had been old enough to understand. Ours was first love, and it was learning as well as loving.
But we had both grown up, and had grown in experience – we knew what was out there; we were not as naive as we had been before. The two people we had been had gone. I was harder, less impressionable; I laughed much less than I did when I was younger. It would be untrue to say I had become more a Duchess than that young, innocent girl I had been.
Edward was different too. In those first few days I had seen shadows of the past only just lifting from his face, darkening his smile – his hands were rougher, his kiss more desperate, as if at any moment I would be taken away from him. I supposed that fear still lived in both our hearts, even as the weeks went on and we remained undiscovered, despite our rather terrible subtlety.
I simply could not get enough of him, and it was, at the best of times, driving me insane. Whenever he was near, I ached for him, and whenever he was not...I wished to be near him just so I could ache for him. The whole situation was insane, and yet I loved it. I loved the quick dashes from my room to his, skirting round corners, hiding my face beneath my cowl as I slipped through the dark and quiet halls, skipping from floor to floor until I reached him.
I loved the feeling of mystery, of furtiveness, the love that raged behind closed doors, so secret only two in the entire world knew of it – I loved how the burning flame we together kept alight was ours and ours alone. I loved to hide, to have something, someone, who was completely and totally mine. To have a secret that no one else knew of meant that there was nothing I could not do, for there was no one to defy me, least of all Edward. I could slip through those deserted staircases, leave my room empty with only one candle alight, flickering lower and lower, casting no human shadows against an empty bed – I could spend my nights locked in endless ecstasy, and there was no one who could stop me.
The ironic freedom of it was simply exhilarating.
I knocked quietly on Edward's door – there was the tell-tale creaking of bedsprings further down the hall, and I laughed lightly to myself: we were not to be the only ones enjoying ourselves tonight. I wondered briefly whether it was Henry and yet another of his pointless conquests, or maybe Rosalie and the stunningly long-surviving Emmett, but then Edward's smiling face appeared and my attention was captured; his hair seemed almost red, his skin glowing in the low candlelight.
"Good evening, my lady," he chuckled, smirking slightly, the green in his eyes glinting in the half-darkness, "Is there any reason you are here this late in the evening?" I replied simply by planting my hands flat against his chest and pushing him backwards forcefully, too impatient for banter. I pushed my body up, pressing our mouths together, at once opening my lips on his and kissing him deeply, unbuttoning his shirt with quick and nimble fingers – the ease and speed with which I was able to fling the little balls of cotton from their hard-edged holes was simply delightful; it gave me a feeling of power which I rarely possessed. "Your grace," Edward began, mumbling against my lips, his tone mocking and teasing, but then I had his shirt thrown to the floor and was beginning to work my way to the waistband of his leather trousers, and his breath caught a little. "As you wish, then," he murmured, before taking hold of me and swinging me onto the bed, his touch suddenly enveloping me, his passionate and heated kiss matching mine. He rolled us both until he hung above me, our bodies only a few inches apart, kissing me so deeply I could hardly think – all my desire for power suddenly evaporated in those few seconds, leaving me so breathless I did not want to do anything except let him do as he wished. When he pulled back for a second, I could not help but moan, "More."
A sly grin suddenly flashed across his face, and he lowered himself down slowly, torturing me as he lightly kissed along my jaw, setting my body aflame. "I wonder when," he murmured in my ear, his warm breath making me shiver beneath him, making my fingers twist sharply in their grip on his locks, "When you became so..." I almost lost myself right there and then when he whispered throatily in my ear, the deep tones chafing against the air, so soft and sultry, "Demanding."
Afterwards, when our heaving breathing was just quietening, my heartbeat gently slowing, and his head was pressed against my chest, tucked under my chin, listening to my heart, he chuckled lightly, the sound interspersed with slightly gasping breaths. "Well," he mumbled, his voice cracking a little; he cleared his throat and lifted his head, smiling at me, "I think we may have just shown those two down the hall a thing or two..."
I laughed gently, almost unable to do so, before throwing my head back again and letting my eyes slide shut. I was so deeply and completely weary and content that I wanted nothing more than to sleep for days, there in that softly candlelit bed, the sheets warm and welcoming and Edward's loving arms around me, and his tender smile that kept my heart alive. I felt Edward settle down again, the warm pressure of his head against the bare skin of my chest returning, my body tingling lightly as he sighed, the air tripping across my skin. He turned a little and began to trace patterns gently on my abdomen, the tips of his fingers sliding across my skin, no real order in the lines that he drew, humming lightly as he worked.
After a while, when sleep did not come to me either, I instead lightly tipped my head forward, pulling my fingers up to run them through his hair which was glowing in the candlelight. Edward glanced up, smiling gently at me. "I love you," he said quietly, and the moment was so perfect I could not help but wonder how I had managed to find someone like him...and, absurdly, keep him.
Of course, that just made it all the more annoying when we had to let the night go in the morning – I began to hate the sunrise like I never had before. In the day Edward and I had to pretend to be indifferent to each other, and I barely ever saw him: I was not used to that. I was used to never having him with me, and when we had been children together I had seen him most all of every day. Only catching glances of him and not even being able to say hello was foreign to me, and I hated it. We managed to see each other almost every night, except for when either of our absences would be noticed or Henry decided he wanted to see me – this was becoming rarer and rarer, due to the appearance of a particularly beautiful new Lady and my own indifference to him. Every minute of our nights together I cherished: he made life so beautiful it was very difficult to give him up in the morning, even though just the memories of him made me smile throughout the rest of the day without him.
On that particular morning it was especially difficult to let him go, for no other reason than I was sick of doing it – when he kissed me in his way that meant he was getting ready to go, I felt the typical feeling of disappointment rising in me, though I was sure he did not notice. He smiled sadly, "I have to go," he said, throwing the bedclothes away and standing up – I followed him, rolling over to kneel up in front of him, trying to look as mournful and pitiful as possible.
"Must you?" I moaned, but he chuckled, seeing straight through me.
"Do not try that with me, love," he laughed, reaching out to rub his thumb fondly against my chin, "You know I must – I must be back in my room before breakfast, or someone will suspect us." He pulled me forward to kiss me gently – I let him, trying to wrap my arms around him to keep him there, but he would not let me. He smiled as he moved away, "I will see you later, I promise."
I huffed and sat back on my heels as he began to dress, playing with the corner of the billowing sleeves of my nightgown – I must have looked more than a little annoyed, because when he moved over again he was smiling fondly. "My love," he began, lifting my chin with a finger to meet my eyes, "Do not look like that: it makes me feel even worse for leaving."
"Then do not," I insisted – a quick flash of hesitation darted across his face, and then I took my chance, kneeling up swiftly so I could lock my arms around his neck, kissing him deeply before he had any chance to escape. In credit to him, he did at least try to push me away, but that was only for a second or two. As soon as I wound my fingers into his hair I had him, and he was pulling me close to him and kissing me back, hands tight and firm at my waist. "Curse you, Isabella Swan," he muttered, before he let me pull him back onto the bed, "Curse you and all your crafty tricks."
I giggled, murmuring back to him, "Indeed. I am quite the evil temptress."
"Quite," Edward echoed, and then he was distracted, which was all it took to get him back under the sheets with me.
"Bella!" Rosalie's high-pitched shriek jolted me out of my happy reverie – I was gazing out of the window across the grounds, where my husband and his friends were playing polo amongst the red and golden leaves that scattered the grass around them. A certain red and golden head stuck out among all the rest, and it was he that I was gazing at, smiling fondly as I watched him bend and sway, ducking in and out and every now and again taking a wild swing, the loud crack of bat against ball echoing through the house. "Bella!"
I shook my head, jumping away from the window so quickly and so guiltily that I knew she suspected something. "Oh, Rosalie," I fabricated quickly, "I apologize – I did not hear you come in."
"What were you doing?" she asked me, narrowing her eyes and moving to stand beside me, peering out the window suspiciously – I winced and attempted to be nonchalant.
"Nothing."
"The men playing Polo?" she said, ignoring me, "Why on earth should you be so interested in that?"
"I was not," I lied, "I was...watching the sun."
Rosalie raised a disbelieving brow, "There are clouds in the sky, Bella – you cannot see the sun."
"Well..."
"Oh," she was looking out over the men again, and she smiled, "Why, look who is out there, looking devilishly rugged and handsome, riding his horse in only a light shirt! Edward Cullen!" She looked over at me, and I could not help but blush, revealing myself at once in the process, "Could it be that he is the reason you were staring out of the window so intently?"
"No," I replied at once, indignantly, "Besides, Rosalie, my husband is out there...I was simply watching to make sure he would not be hurt." Rosalie crossed her arms, no hint of the doubt I was trying to instil in her crossing her features – I switched tactics, trying to distract her, "Have you seen Emmett McCarty? He was playing rather well."
"Is he out there?" she immediately said, turning away to press her nose against the window pane again. I breathed a sigh of relief, hoping she would veer off onto a different track, but that was in vain: as soon as she turned back her eyes were hard again, "Do not try to distract me," she laughed, "What happened to you is what we are discussing here." She gasped suddenly, "I remember! Edward Cullen."
I cursed inwardly, but remained what I hoped was uninterested, "What about Edward Cullen? The bronze-haired pianist whom my husband has taken a new interest in? Why should you mention him?" I laughed, but the sound was forced – I knew Rosalie was not fooled. She knew me too well.
"Something has happened between you and Edward Cullen – I know it. Tell me."
I shook my head, "It is nothing, Rosalie. You know very well that I am married, and you know me well enough: I would never do anything like that."
She was not fooled, "What are you keeping from me?" she said shrewdly, "You have changed – I know it. You look happier than I have ever seen you; your eyes are sparkling and bright. Do you realise, Bella, that you are never joyful and bright? You always seemed deadened – your smiles never reached your eyes. Now look at you," she cast an exasperated hand at me, "You are blooming. Why will you not tell me why and how Mr Cullen has done this to you?"
"Why do you insist it is Edward Cullen who has affected me?" I said stubbornly; Rosalie groaned, quite unladylike.
"Isabella Delaunay!" I winced at her use of my married name – I did hate it so – and resisted the urge to correct her with 'Swan', "You can be so positively obstinate at times!" She swept onto her feet, gathering her skirts, her expression determined, "If you shall not tell me, I shall go and talk to Mr Edward Cullen myself. He is in the club with your husband, is he not?"
I froze in horror as she hurried towards the door, throwing it open and tossing her curls – I remembered then how Rosalie had no reservations. She was not teasing; she absolutely did intend to march straight to Edward and potentially expose us to the world. I managed to gather myself and I stood, desperately shouting, "Rosalie, no!" There was no answer, and I ran after her, for once not bothering to care how I must look – there was too much at stake. I could not let her expose us; I could not lose Edward again. "Rosalie, please, you do not understand!"
She was faster than me, her long legs carrying her further – she was already halfway down the main stairs, heading straight for the club where my husband held his almost daily drinking parties. I continued calling after her, my voice dropping to a hiss as she approached the door.
"Rosalie!"
She turned, her hand on the doorknob, "Will you tell me what has happened with you and Edward Cullen?" she asked.
"Nothing has!" I screeched in a whisper, catching up with her by skidding the last few feet; I grabbed her arm, "Please, Rosalie – you cannot go in there!"
"Why not? Do you not want me to talk to him?"
I had no answer to that.
She smirked – she looked positively evil, "I thought so."
"Rosalie, no!"
But, it was too late. She had already swung open the door – I twisted away, out of sight, pressing myself against the corridor wall as she said, her voice suddenly sweet, "Excuse me, gentlemen – I would like a word with Mr Cullen: we have matters of an unpaid bet to attend to."
"Gambling against the ladies, eh, Cullen?" someone chuckled – I winced, imagining Edward's confusion; this was simply unfair, "You should know better – Ms Hale is a fierce opponent."
She laughed along with them, charismatic as always – Rosalie had always known how to charm any man within a few feet of her, "I thank you for the compliment...Mr Cullen?"
"Of course," I heard him say, "I should love to know what it is you want of me."
"I should think he does," someone else said, and there was a roar of laughter, as well as a lot of smacking – I could imagine them all clapping each other on the shoulder, pleased with their snarky comments. I felt my temper beginning to boil, and I grabbed Rosalie's arm, pulling her away.
"Rosalie, what on earth are you doing?"
"I am investigating," she smiled cheerily, "Why, am I upsetting you?"
"You are causing trouble for no reason! There is nothing going on between Edward and me-" I stuttered to a sudden halt – I realised then that I had made an almost certainly fatal mistake.
"Aha!" she cried triumphantly, "Why are you on first name terms with him, out of interest, if there is nothing going on?"
"Rosalie!" I cried, exasperated, "That was a simple mistake, I-"
"Ah," an amused voice interrupted, "So I assume it was not gambling you wished to talk to me about, Ms Hale?"
She turned, obstructing me from view, "Ah, Mr Cullen; no, it was not that, but this." She stepped to the side, revealing me standing there – I widened my eyes at him, shaking my head imperceptibly, trying to caution him. Do not let on. "I assume you know who she is?" Rosalie carried on; Edward chuckled, the amused sparkle in his eyes meaning more to me than it did to Rosalie – despite our situation, my heart still jumped a couple of beats at seeing him.
"Her grace, of course," he said, as if it were obvious, "Wife of my dear friend his grace, Henry Delaunay, Duke of Hertfordshire."
"Her name?"
He glanced at Rosalie quizzically, "Why must I tell you her name? You know who she is. If you must know, her name is Isabella Marie Delaunay."
"Marie?" Rosalie turned on me, "You have a second name?"
Edward and I both blanched, "No."
She saw straight through me, "How did Mr Cullen know that, Bella?"
"A lucky guess."
She turned to him, "I was not asking you, sir."
He shrugged, "I felt the need to answer. What are you accusing me of, Ms Hale? Cavorting with my very good friend his grace's wife? That would not be very good of me, now, would it?"
"I may be 'just a woman', but I am not stupid, Mr Cullen," she answered boldly, "I know there is something going on between you and Bella – I saw you dancing when you first arrived. I also saw you disappear into the garden; did you realise that you never returned?"
I knew I was completely white by now – there was nothing I could say to salvage the situation. Both Edward and I were trapped. Rosalie had us. She glanced between the two of us, waiting for an answer – Edward spoke first, his expression unchanging and calm.
"Excuse us for just a minute," he said politely, taking my arm and steering me away – I glanced back to see Rosalie cross her arms, one eyebrow cocked, watching us leave with a triumphant smile; I sighed, wondering what she would do and who she might tell. Rosalie could be so unpredictable. Edward walked me around the corner, so we were out of sight. "Right," he murmured, pushing me back against the wall, "First of all..." He pressed his lips quickly to mine and kissed me deeply, before pulling away and smiling, "Hello."
"Edward," I was a little dizzy, "Really...not the most appropriate of times."
"It never is," he replied, kissing me again, "But I missed you."
"I missed you too," I breathed, before shaking my head and pushing him away, "But still not the most appropriate of times, Edward...what are we to do about Rosalie?"
"I do not think there is much we can do...she knows there is something between us, does she not?"
I bit my lip, "Almost certainly." Edward wound his arms around my waist, warm and gentle – I moaned, "Oh, what shall we do? Now Rosalie knows..."
"Will she tell anyone?" Edward said urgently, "I will not let anyone take you away from me again, Bella, so if you think she will then we must make preparations for it."
"I...I do not think she will," I started, "She has been a very great friend to me – I think she simply wanted to know what was going on for the sake of knowing. Rosalie does not do things because of a malicious intent...well, not usually, but..."
"Bella," Edward said, "If that is so, then the only thing you should be asking yourself is whether you can trust her."
My lip should have been bleeding I was biting it so hard, grinding my teeth against the soft skin in my anxiety. "I think I can," I murmured, after a minute of silence, "Well...I hope I can."
"Well then," Edward lifted my chin, smiling at me encouragingly, "Then you must try. Besides: the more allies we have, the better, I suppose."
I sighed, "I suppose."
"Bella!" Rosalie called, a horrible smugness in her voice, "You have had long enough! I am beginning to think you are not just talking around that corner!"
"I should go," I made to twist out of his arms, but Edward stopped me, kissing me before I could move again – he smiled at me as he pulled away.
"Just in case something bad does happen."
I nodded, then turned away quickly, hurrying away from him before I could stop myself – Rosalie waited, hands on hips, her expression deadly, and I rolled my eyes at her as she said impetuously, "And where is Mr Cullen?"
"Come along, Rosalie," I groaned exasperatedly, "I will explain it all to you, just please, not here!" She frowned but conceded, letting me drag her back along the corridor and up the stairs, shutting us both in my small sitting room – I sat her down in the nearest chair, then interlocked my fingers and bit my lip, not sure what to say.
After a minute or two of cold silence, Rosalie spoke up. "So?" she demanded, "What is going on?" When I still did not speak, she made a tutting noise at the back of her throat, "Are you sleeping with him?"
I nodded.
"Regularly?"
I nodded again, determined to feel no shame no matter what she said. "Since he came."
"For that long?" she said, "Oh, Bella, what on earth are you thinking? You are a Duchess! You cannot do this!"
"What?" I was surprised by that, "Rosalie, you always said I should!"
"I did not mean it!" she cried, "Oh, you idiot, Isabella!"
"Rosalie, I thought you would understand..."
"What I cannot understand," Rosalie snapped, "Is why you insist on prolonging this...this obsession, with no apparent care for what might happen if you were caught! Do you want to kill an innocent man, Bella, because that is what will happen if you carry on dallying with him...how selfish you are, if that is true!"
"Rosalie" I tried again, "It is not just a fleeting obsession – what I have with Edward is completely different. I love him." Rosalie groaned, and I sighed, "Rosalie, it is different, I promise you!"
"It is no different," she scoffed, "You are an adulteress – nothing more than that."
I sighed, knowing I would not get through to her by shouting – her mouth was set, eyes hard, her judgement obviously already made. I decided then there was no point in hiding anything from her, if that was so.
"You do not know, Rosalie," I whispered, staring out of the window, across the lake and rolling green fields, hardly seeing them – I could feel her gaze on me, but I did not turn around. "I knew Edward before. Before all this happened, before you even met me." I took a deep breath, "His real name is Edward Masen, and he lived on my estate with me and my family. I fell in love with him when I was seventeen years old, after many years of confusion and desperation and sadness...he loved me since I was thirteen, you see, and he was stupid enough not to tell me." I smiled despite myself at the memory, "I loved him so much that if I could, I would have married him there and then...if I could, I would have gone away with him and we would have had a family and a house instead of just this. But life tore us apart, Rose. My sister ran away, my father died, my mother went to my Uncle...and he forced us away from each other.
"You do not know how much I cried, when he left me. With Henry, the night after we were married – I cried until dawn; until my throat was so raw that every breath felt like sandpaper in my mouth. You will never understand how I felt – like my heart had been ripped out; it was still there, beating in my chest, but it felt as if it were dead. Every pulse hurt me, every time I took a breath, I could not fill my body with enough air; I always choked. That was how much I missed him, Rosalie." I turned to her, then, feeling my voice take on a harsh, broken tone, "You will never understand, but that was how I felt. Every day. Every day, for four years, I couldn't breathe. I could hardly think without thinking of him. I missed him all the time – I had no reprieve from the knowledge that I would probably never see him again. Once, I actually wished I were dead, just so I did not have to live without him." I was near shouting now, "I had nightmares! I would wake up in the night screaming for him, and no one would hear me. I would lie there, all night, alone, just missing him and trying to keep breathing. Trying to find some way to stay alive, instead of just giving up. Instead of turning my face into my pillow and...and.." I took a shuddering breath, "I have not cried in four years! Not once have I let myself cry – not in the uncountable times that I have had to let Henry into my bedroom and wish he were Edward, nor when my sister nearly died giving birth to my niece...not even when my own mother died! I could not even cry then, because he was gone, and nothing had ever been more painful than that."
I stood, towering over her – her blue eyes were wide; I could see my angry self reflected in her gaze, "You will never understand, Rosalie. You never loved someone like I do Edward. You will never know what it is like to lose someone who meant so much to you – I have been broken, all these years, and now Edward has returned and I..." my voice was deadly and hushed, cutting through her, I knew, "I cannot live without him. There is nothing I can do, not anymore. I was lost without him, and I will not let him go again. Do not even think to judge me, Rosalie Hale. You do not know what I have gone through – you could not imagine what I have gone through. Life has been too cruel to me, and I will not give Edward up, not for anything. I love him, Rosalie, and he loves me." I laughed slightly, "Adulterous I may be, but I have never been my husband's wife. I have always been Edward's." With that I swept out of the room, turning my back on her and closing the door with a sharp click.
Edward was standing at the end of the hallway, and, with a quick darting look around me to check that we were alone I went to him. Taking his hand, we walked together to his bedroom – he shut the door, then turned and held out his arms.
"Bella...come here."
Sighing, I obeyed, letting him wrap his arms around me and sinking into his embrace.
"I love you," he whispered to me gently, holding me close to his chest, and I could hear his slow, steady heartbeat, wonderfully reassuring in his solidness, his thereness, "Never forget how much I love you."
"I could not live without you, Edward," I replied simply, before burrowing closer to him and closing my eyes, letting his warmth and his love sooth my troubles as it always could.
"I am never leaving you again," Edward sighed, his head shaking firmly atop mine, "Never again. It hurt me far too much."
"It hurt me too," I murmured, "But I am better now. So much better."
I knew he was smiling, "Me too."
"Bella?" Rosalie knocked gently on my door the next morning – Edward and I were nestled in the warm, twisted sheets, him leaning up against a bedpost and me settled against him, my legs bent out underneath me, staring out of the window whilst he rested his head on mine, his nose pressed up against my jaw and his breath tickling my skin. I was experiencing a rare period of perfect solitude and contentment, the silence like a blanket around me, soothing and comforting. It was hard to imagine a better place to be – there in the sunshine, with Edward's arms around me and only my happy thoughts with which to occupy myself. A faint smile rested on my lips that had been there for the better part of an hour. When Rosalie knocked Edward sighed gently, one that I echoed as he pulled away, sitting up – I turned to gaze at the door, wondering whether I should pretend I was still irritated with her and not open it. I certainly did not feel inclined to, and by the look on Edward's face, neither did he. "Bella? Please can I come in? I need to speak with you."
I moaned quietly, and Edward whispered in my ear, "You might as well, Bella. After what happened yesterday...you should speak with her to make sure she knows our situation."
"You are right," I murmured, looking up at him, "I know you are."
"Shall I leave?" he said, and I shook my head decisively.
"No. She knows you exist," I smiled, "There is no reason why I should hide you."
"Bella?"
"The door is open, Rosalie," I said, before I could change my mind – she came in, her slim frame slipping through the door, closing it quietly behind her. If anything could be said for Rosalie, I thought as I watched her: she was not stupid. I knew that if she wanted, she could be a very good friend to me – if only I could trust that she wanted to be. Rosalie turned, and she did not seem surprised at how Edward and I were positioned; she came to sit beside us without hesitating, but her face did not hold her usual confidence. Today she seemed...nervous. Upset.
Edward spoke first. "Miss Rosalie," he said, calm and polite as ever, "Would you mind telling us why you are here? We do not have much time, you see, and quite soon Bella will be missed..."
"Yes, yes, of course," Rosalie sounded flustered, "Bella, first I wanted to say I that I am so sorry for what I said to you yesterday – you must understand, I did not-"
I cut her off, not liking how upset she was. "Rosalie," I leaned forward to take her hand, trying to encourage her normal smile back onto her face, "I have no quarrel with you – all is forgiven. I know you could not have understood: I held so much back from you all these years, and it is understandable that you should be angry with me." I sighed, sitting back and glancing at Edward, who was watching us both carefully, "Granted, I am not behaving in the best of ways but..." Edward smiled at me, his eyes twinkling, dazzling me as he always did – I laughed helplessly, gesturing to him, "How could I resist?"
"How indeed," Rosalie murmured, her expression unfathomable as Edward wound his arms back around me in response and kissed my neck, burying his face in my hair – I watched her carefully, wondering how she was planning to react. When her words did come, however, they were not what I expected. "Cullen," she suddenly barked, back to her old, haughty self, "You love Bella?"
Edward seemed surprised, but he murmured obediently, "With all my heart."
"Keep it that way, and we should not have a problem," she smiled exasperatedly at me, "Trust you to find the most complicated path and then follow it."
I shrugged, "You know me."
"Sadly enough, I do," she laughed, "Now, if you could just attempt to keep yourselves out of trouble? Henry is a genial man, but I do not think he will react well to adultery." She saw me open my mouth to protest, and she waved her hands exasperatedly, "Fine, fine, 'lovers': if you insist." She stood before either of us could utter a word in response, "Now, I must go – if you wish I shall tell his grace you are feeling ill? I suppose on such a lovely day you want more of each other's company?"
"Well, yes-"
"Good, done," Rosalie had already opened the door, "I will see you at dinner then, Bella. Mr Masen," she winked, then the door clicked and she was gone.
Edward turned to me, raising his brows. "She...she is something," he said, and I laughed.
"She is something indeed."
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