Tale of Obsession: Courting Daphne Ch. 11

Daphne did not want to believe that last part. Every time Leander holds her in his arms, he would tell her how she had positively changed his life, how she coloured his world, how she provided him with a reason for living. And she believed him, because that was how he affected her, too.

But if the worst happens, then, Anthony would be right, and she would never be able to forgive herself. That was why, although deeply afraid, she had been relieved when her father talked to her first and told her his every plan for Leander's insubordination. Father and daughter argued vehemently that afternoon, with Daphne fiercely defending every decision Leander took. She never knew that she would find the courage to stand up to her father like that, but she did. Nor did she ever think that her father could get as angry as that, but he did -- and most surprising of all, it was because, she realized, he loved her very much indeed.

By the end of their meeting, although she never got the Duke to promise that he would not hurt Leander or send him away, Daphne felt a sense of triumph -- for he did not vow to punish Leander either. A sense of dread still followed her around -- something she hid from Leander, not wanting him to worry, too. Her father's action -- lack of it, in fact -- after that gave her hope that perhaps, he would reconsider; perhaps he would cave in.

Her success or failure in convincing her father would be determined at the end of Leander's conversation with the Duke. She fervently hoped that Leander would hold her in his arms and tell her that everything went okay, that the Duke promised to let them be.

*****

She was first to reach the fence that marked the finish line of their makeshift race, followed by Leonard, and then by Anthony. Jeremy, who finished last, exclaimed, "This is embarrassing! I was outrun by a woman!"

Daphne laughed, the joy of the ride still filling her chest. Leonard, who had already dismounted, offered his hand to help her dismount. "Your Snowflake was outrun by Whitespark. In my opinion, that's a stallion outrunning a mare."

Jeremy laughed as he, too, dismounted. Patting his horse's neck, he said, "It's okay, Snowflake. We're close to beating them. You did great."

Herself laughing, Daphne approached her youngest brother and hugged him, earning a cry of dismay from the boy. Apparently, he was 'already too old for hugs from his big sister.' Leonard and Anthony's laughter did not help.

"But -- wow." Jeremy was now admiring the great stallion that was the Duke's favourite. "I still can't believe you took out Whitespark without His Grace's permission."

It did not escape Daphne -- as it did then, before she ran from home -- that her brothers referred to their father as 'His Grace' or 'the Duke', never as 'Papa.' She has asked Leonard earlier, when they finished eating breakfast and the Marquis offered to walk her back to her room; his only response was that the Duke was too indifferent to be called 'Papa', and the one time Leonard did, it annoyed the Duke so much that Leonard decided never to use it again.

"I can let you ride him on the way back," Daphne offered the boy. "I'm sure both Leonard and Anthony know how to saddle a horse, so they will change our saddles."

"Oh." Anthony grinned. "Finally something I can do that Daphne cannot!"

Leonard elbowed his brother. "Say nothing more, lest she asks Mr. Lochard first thing tomorrow for instructions on how to saddle a horse."

As they all laughed, Jeremy asked, "Will you really do that, Daphne? Let me ride Whitespark? But what if His Grace sees?"

"Don't worry about him," she reassured the boy. "I'll take full responsibility for stealing Whitespark."

Jeremy rejoiced, and Anthony nodded to the direction of the house. "Look, Sister."

Daphne looked, and was turned speechless for a moment.

There it was, the Duke of Wildercross's estate, looking ancient and grand and breathtakingly beautiful. It sat there on one huge span of land -- all four stories of it, perhaps the greatest building in all of Thersale. And that was talking about the front structure alone, which housed the whole legion of the Duke's personal guards headed by the eldest son of the present Earl of Mavenborough.

Either the upper or lower yards behind the intimidating structure was wide enough to hold half of all the inhabitants of the duchy -- and that was saying much, for the Duchy of Wildercross was one of Thersale's largest. On the northern and southern ends of the yards were yet another pair of buildings reserved for servants.

The apartments behind the yards were where the guests of the Duke stayed, and beyond that was the famed Wildercross Garden, the most frequently visited part of the estate, with its dozens of fountains and grottoes, its thousands of flowers and its blanket of grass native to the continent. The Duke opened the Garden to the public in exchange for entrance fees that became one of the estate's sources of income. Only those who lived in the Duchy of Wildercross could enter without paying a thing, and the Garden was only closed when there are special celebrations inside the estate -- the way there was now.

Beyond the Garden was yet another building, a two-story one -- the Estate Proper, as it was called by many. There was where the Wildercross family apartments were found. To the north of the Garden was the stables; to the south, the building that held both the mess and the meditation halls, as well as the Duke's study where Leander presently was.

It might be called an estate, but the Wildercross House was more like a castle -- one which could not be outshone even by the Crown's.

"It's lovely," she said softly, her heart brimming with joy to realize that she was home -- indeed home.

"If it is such a lovely place, why did you run away from it in the first place?" Anthony asked. "You were the Duke's favourite; he wanted all the best for you."

Daphne sighed, wrenching her eyes away from their home and smiling at her brothers, all of whom were waiting for an answer.

"Beauty and comfort are not the only things that matter in life," she replied. "I wanted my own happily-ever-after, one I find for myself, not imposed to me by the Duke. Your sister is a romantic, you see. I want to find a man whom I love and who loves me back. If I have to leave all of these to get that, I gladly will."

"Did you find him?" asked Anthony.

With another smile, Daphne nodded. "Yes."

"Is it General Van Halen?"

Jeremy's question surprised her. Knowing Lady Cornelia, Daphne was certain Jeremy was not supposed to learn gossips for at least the first ten years of his life. The look Leonard and Anthony exchanged told Daphne that it was not the older boys who told the youngest.

"Why do you ask?" Leonard asked the boy in return.

Jeremy shrugged. "I heard Sister's ladies-in-waiting talking this morning. They said that the general is Daphne's love. To me, they look ready to take him from her, though, and Lady Cecilia even said so. So, is it really Van Halen?"

Anthony cleared his throat to prevent himself from laughing. Daphne's blood rushed to her face. If her ladies were talking about Leander, they could not have used the word 'love'; they might have referred to him as her lover, which -- thank the gods! -- Jeremy missed. Lady Cornelia would quite be distressed if she learned that her boy's innocence was almost broken.

"Yes, it is," she admitted, slightly smiling at the boy.

"Very good choice," Jeremy said, nodding his head sagely. "He looks strong and the Duke said that he's one of the best, so he can surely protect you. I think I like him for you. He was polite to me when he saw me in the Garden once, and he looks kind, too."

"You know," Anthony interjected, seeing how Daphne's face reddened even more. "Why don't you just help me unsaddle both Whitespark and Snowflake, Jeremy? We'll be returning to the estate soon."

When the younger boys were out of earshot and busily unsaddling the horses, Daphne's eyes were drawn back to the house, where she knew Leander was.

"Are you afraid for his life?" Leonard asked.

With a sigh, she nodded, her eyes not leaving the structure. "Before we left Elgeshore, Leander told me that his affair with me was, basically speaking, a distraction from his duty and a disregard of Papa's instructions to him. It's punishable by death."

"It is," said the Marquis, pausing a while before asking, "Do you think His Grace will actually order Van Halen's execution?"

Daphne looked at her brother, then, seeing him as a young man mature beyond his years. "I hope not. I won't be able to handle it otherwise."

"He won't," Leonard assured her. "As Anthony said, you are the Duke's favourite child."

"Leonard..."

"No, listen," he said, smiling. "He doesn't want us calling him Papa because you are the only one he wants to call him thus. Mama told me and Anthony that the Duke married her out of duty, and that his heart, hard and cold as it is, is already owned by another woman. If that's the case, then, that woman is your mother, the Duchess of Brayhorn. No wonder he loves you more than he loves us."

She shook her head. "Don't say that. You may think him hardened and cold-hearted, but he is not. You said it yourself -- he has a heart, and he knows how to love. If he shows his love to me more than he does to all of you, it's because he doesn't want you to grow soft as men. He wants you to forge a bond among yourselves, as you have done. He may act indifferently, but, I tell you, he cares. He was like that to me once, too."

Leonard smiled. "I know he cares for us, in his own way. But believe it or not, he loves you more than us all, and we're fine with that. We love you more than we love him anyway."

Daphne arched an eyebrow, but smiled when Leonard laughed. She knew the truth of her brother's words -- even that last statement. The three boys had been closer to her than to their father, and all three had known about her plans for escape three years ago; none of them betrayed her, even Jeremy, who was only six at that time.

"So, I tell you," Leonard continued. "The Duke will not kill Van Halen, if only for you."

"You think so?" she asked with a small smile, her heart filling less heavy now that Leonard has said such a thing.

The Marquis nodded, smiling back. "I know so."

*****

The sounds of music and laughter coming from the Garden made Daphne smile. She parted the curtains to look down at the celebration below. Lanterns were hung on tree branches and on poles erected that afternoon. She could make out her ladies-in-waiting amidst the crowd, and most of them were conversing with young heirs and warriors currently residing as guests in the Wildercross estate.

Although not inclined to join parties, her father often threw them, ranging from modest gatherings like this one to grand celebrations that become the talk of the whole kingdom for weeks. For Daphne, such affairs showed the warmer side of the Duke of Wildercross -- another proof that her father was not as passionless as people thought.

The door opened, briefly allowing the scents of jasmine to reach her senses; her smile did not fade.

"Would you like me to accompany you to the Garden? It will be rewarding to join such a celebration when you had been away from home for so long."

She let go of the curtain and turned to face the newcomer. "Something tells me that my reward is inside this room, not amidst the crowd."

Leander chuckled, walking toward her; Daphne watched him with admiration. Clad in his black armour, he looked exactly like he did when she first saw him. This time, though, she did not turn pale; in fact, she blushed.

He swept her in his arms, tenderly kissing her forehead. Daphne closed her eyes, inhaling the scent of citrus and musk, mixed with the leather of his armour. She moaned appreciatively, kissing his neck and breathing in his fragrance. She loved it, as she loved everything about him.

"Something tells me that I won't find sleep tonight," Leander observed.

Daphne laughed softly, slightly moving away so that she could look him in the eye. "Is there something wrong with that?"

"What can possibly be wrong with that?" Leander replied, grinning. He pulled her body even closer, resting his forehead on hers. "If I get to enjoy you every minute of it, I'm willing to forgo sleep." Her laughter bubbled from within, kept there by Leander's mouth when he sought hers. She looped her arms around his neck, kissing back. He tasted of wine -- her father's wine, which left her wondering what the two men talked about.

"I need you now, my love," Leander murmured against her skin as he kissed her neck.

She smiled, moving away to look into his eyes. "You have all night to claim me."

Leander moaned, kissing her again before moving away to take off his armour. Daphne walked to his bed and watched him reveal more of himself to her hungry eyes. Once he had the leather-and-plate armour off, Leander shed off his shirt, leaving nothing but his breeches on.

"How did the conversation with Papa go?" she asked when Leander joined her on the bed.

"Very well," he answered, wasting no time in pulling her down to the bed. His fingers nimbly undid the lace that kept her gown tightly wrapped around her body. "He gave me the deeds to both Gildenrose Court and Heathergreen Lodge, and the lands around them."

Upon hearing his answer, Daphne gasped, propping herself up on an elbow even as Leander continued teasing off her gown. "Gildenrose and Heathergreen! Do you jest?"

"I'm serious," Leander answered, finally succeeding in stripping her down to her shift.

"What have you done to my father?" she cried, her eyes wide. "Those are the properties he is most loathe to part with!"

Leander chuckled, lovingly pinching her chin. "They were supposed to be his wedding gift to your mother had things gone according to plan, I believe."

Daphne knew all too well of the truth of his words. Lady Cornelia had drilled that into her brain since she was a child. That's why the Duchess of Wildercross hated the properties so much, especially since those were the only lands of the Duke that were not accessible even to his own children.

"How come he gave it to you?" she asked, calm yet bewildered.

The general laughed beneath her, stroking her thighs so that the hem of her dress rode up, bunching around her hips. "They're not mine technically. I'm merely the deed-holder. They're to be my wedding gifts to my future wife."

As a grin crossed her lips, Daphne took her position on top of Leander, planting her knees on either side of his narrow hips. "For me, then?"

His left eyebrow shot up, but his blue eyes danced with mirth as he said, "Well, what do we have here? A very conceited woman! Who told you that you're my future wife?"

Daphne moaned, leaning forward to kiss the tip of his nose, thus brushing the tip of her breasts lightly against his naked chest. Her nipples were already erect beneath the silk of her dress, and the teasing strokes of Leander's palms on her bare thighs were causing her core to melt, causing the essence of her femininity to flow.

"I did," she said huskily, lightly licking along his jaw. "What made you think that you'd get out of my father's estate without asking him for my hand in marriage, Leander Van Halen? Hmm? How dare you!"

"What made you think that I shall choose you among the hundreds of women I have already bedded?"

Although she could not see his face -- oh, she would not look, for she was having so much fun licking her way down his neck! - Daphne knew Leander smiled; the tone of his voice said so. The jest was there, the teasing -- deliberate attempts to provoke her, to wake her wildness, to challenge her female ego. And, aware though she was of his intentions, Daphne also knew that he was succeeding.

"Oh, you will know soon enough," came her promising response as she rose on her knees, towering over his lying form, proud and wanton and very much in the mood to take control. "Blessed be the day you decided to keep me as your lover, you will say."

Leander's laughter sounded in the room, mingling with the sound of music and celebration coming from below. Daphne grinned, biting on her lower lip as she bent forward, ready now to begin their game. It would be such an entertaining night.

*****

She kissed him full on the mouth, savouring the taste of him before moving downward, kissing his bare shoulder as her hands played further down, wandering close to but not quite touching, his erect manhood. The groan that sounded deep in Leander's throat urged her on, as did his gentle hand gripping the back of her head, fondly squeezing from time to time.

It would be so easy to give in to her desires, to sate their thirst for each other with one swift gesture, yet Daphne was willing to wait -- indeed, she was intent upon it, knowing how much more fulfilling it would be if she prolonged the wait a little more.

Mastering her own emotions, she took her time, kissing every inch of Leander's body from the chest downward, lower and lower until her breasts were already touching his stiff member. Leander moved, half-sitting on the bed to get a better view of her.

"You're a sweet little devil, my love," he chuckled when she looked at him from under her lashes, the seductive gesture coming to her as naturally as her own breath. How could she not have known sooner of the power a single glance held over a man?

Leander gathered a fistful of her hair as if he meant to crush it. But knowing that such a thing would not happen with his bare fists alone, Daphne understood that he merely needed to feel its softness, for unless he tugged on it fiercely there could be no smelling it anyway.

Not that she needed to know every small thing her lover had in mind. She was herself busy thinking about what pleasures she ought to subject him to tonight. Surely, a man who has come out of her father's study alive and well needed a reward of some sort...

Daphne gently licked between the rigged muscles of Leander's stomach, taking pleasure in hearing the groan it elicited from the general. She took her time, merely running a finger along his manhood to further stimulate him. Not that she thought he needed anymore of that; he was as hard and as huge as he could be.

She glanced up at him to see the frown on his face as he tried to control his urges. Daphne's heart gladdened at the sight -- not because she thought she was torturing him, but because she knew that Leander would not hurry her along; he would let her do as she pleased even if it cost him pain.

Herself groaning, Daphne finally decided that it was time she rewarded him for all the things he did and would never do. Gently massaging his balls, she ran her slick tongue around the tip of his manhood, watching as Leander threw his head back with a growl. His grasp on her hair tightened, but instead of hurting her it further aroused Daphne.

He was so hard -- so ready for the coupling that would inevitably come. Daphne ran her tongue along the underside of his shaft, taking glory in the moment, when she knew that he was trusting her with his vulnerability. Again and again, she licked him, loving the feel of him against her tongue. Leander was virility personified; how could she not fall in love with him?

Licking and sucking, she pleased him with her mouth, now acquainted with the subtle power she had over him. She loved the way he felt in her mouth, hard and soft at the same time. Yes, so vulnerable...

"Come here, my sweet," Leander groaned, his eyes the colour of the darkest blue as he stared into hers. "I want to taste you."

Daphne made a sound at the back of her throat. Gods, did he really? She squirmed, momentarily pausing the wonderful act she had given her attention to so that she could change her position, making it possible for her to continue her pursuit while giving Leander the chance to taste her, too.