Page 109 of The Rogue and His Flower

A better man than me would haul her back into their arms and deal with this moment with kindness and empathy, but I’m still finding my feet, grappling with my own emotions. If she was raw and bleeding from her nightmare, then I am a reflection of that right now. I feel as though my chest has been ripped open, my heart stuttering behind the raggedy bones of my ribcage. So I don’t press her. I let her tend to herself, as I do. We wash ourselves in silence, no longer touching, cleaning our bodies distractedly. Whatever had connected us in those intense few minutes evaporates alongside the steam curling up into the air.

“Daisy,” I begin, but she just gives me a broken smile and rises upwards, stepping out of the bath.

“It’s late. I should go to bed,” she says, gathering a towel and wrapping it around herself, as though protecting herself from me.

I nod. “You’re right.”

She slips out of the bathroom, disappearing into the bedroom. By the time I’ve dried myself and dressed, she’s lying on her side on the bed, the cover pulled up beneath her chin. For a moment I stand beside her, uncertain what to do. My skin feels too tight, my breath too shallow. I itch to touch her, to make her talk to me, but I don’t know if I have the right words to soothe whatever it is she’s feeling. Perhaps it’s better if I leave?

Yet my body refuses to, even as my fight and flight instincts kick in.

Not sure if I’m doing the right thing, I climb onto the bed and lay down beside her. I don’t know what to say. I don’t even know if my closeness is welcome now, but despite all of that I spoon her body, pressing my chest against her back, dropping my arm over her waist.

She heaves out a sigh, and the sound guts me, because it doesn’t sound like a sigh of contentment, it sounds like an exhale of sadness. I feel it thicken the air between us, shrouding what has just come to pass in grief, and even worse, regret.

We lay like that, together yet distant. I’m not sure how much time passes, but as the sky outside begins to slowly lighten, turning the black of night into the grey twilight of dawn, I lean over and press a kiss against Daisy’s temple, then leave.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

DAISY

As I sit gazing at my reflection in the mirror, my eyes accented with warm shades of gold, my lips adorned with soft pink, and my hair cascading in curls around my face, I release a quiet sigh.

It’s finally our wedding day, a day when I should be filled with joy and excitement, ready to start a new life with my husband. Instead a heaviness weighs down my heart, settling in my stomach like a lead balloon.

I chose this.

I chose to sign the contract to marry Dalton Gunn.

A man who I have a complicated relationship with. A man who, for a long time, I hated. And now? I don’t even know what we are.

Over the past couple of months we’ve fought, insulted each other, laughed together, been awkward in each other’s company, spent time together, shared secrets and past hurts, kissed out of obligation, kissed each other in lust, made ourselves come whilst the other watched.

We’ve fucked…

Our relationship is complicated to say the least. We’re hesitant, uncertain, and of late have been oscillating between friends that fuck and something…more, something neither ofus can define. Like the first buds of spring pushing up through frost-dusted soil, feelings have begun to grow, delicate yet fragile.

Oh so fragile.

We’re attracted to each other, that much is clear. We’ve begun to open up, slowly revealing ourselves bit by bit, but is it foolish to hope that something deeper could bloom from such a tumultuous foundation? I can’t deny the yearning in my heart for something real, something everlasting, something I’m not certain we can give each other despite the vows we’re going to make today.

The other night when I’d awoken from that awful nightmare, Dalton had held me, he’d soothed me, he’d helped me to obliterate my father’s cruelty with pain, he’d fucked me, and yet… It felt like more than just sex. It felt like coming home. But afterwards when all I’d felt was relief, when I’d cried tears of release, I’d seenfearin his gaze, and even though he’d laid down beside me, there was a distance between us, a chasm. Eventually I’d fallen asleep, and when I’d awoken and found myself alone, I’d felt bereft.

Why had he left? Did he not feel what I felt?

Maybe I was hoping for something that simply wasn’t there. Maybe I’m just a fool.

“You can do this, Daisy,” I say to my reflection, shaking off those feelings, refusing to wallow in self-pity.

I have to remember why I’m doing this, it’s the only thing keeping me from curling up into a ball and letting a torrent of tears wash away the makeup I’ve spent the morning trying to perfect. As I pick up a deep brown eyeliner to add the finishing touch to my eyes, a faint knock at the door interrupts me. I glance at my phone resting on the dressing table, it’s a quarter past twelve, in a little over an hour I will officially become Mrs Dalton Gunn.

“Come in,” I reply softly, placing the kohl liner back on to my dressing table.

Tessa, a kind woman with dark hair and gentle eyes that I've briefly chatted with a few times since I moved in, stands at the door. She’s been a maid for the Gunn family for years, and whilst I’ve not had the chance to get to her know her fully, she’s always offered me a kind smile and whispered hello’s whenever we’ve crossed paths in this huge mansion I now call home, even if it’s far from homely.

“Mr Gunn asked me to bring you this,” Tessa says, stepping into the room, holding onto a cloth garment bag, the white material zipped up so I can’t see what’s inside.

“Carl?” I ask, frowning.

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