Chapter 58 - Kisses

Delaney felt nervous for a moment but soon relaxed into his kiss. When he opened his mouth slightly she did the same and tasted his lips. He tasted like the strong alcohol he'd been drinking and himself.

When he pulled her closer and his teeth grazed across her lips she felt a warm tingling wash over her. A small sound escaped her and she heard a rumble of laughter in his chest but he didn't move away. Instead, he was encouraged and pulled her ever closer, his other arm going around her waist.

Her mind was swimming but Delaney remembered he wasn't wearing a shirt and suddenly wanted to touch more of him. Reaching out she pressed a hand to his chest.

Pain burst in her palm and she yelped, jumping and coming abruptly apart from him. His eyes opened and he looked at her in confusion.

"Did I do something?" he asked quickly but then noticed her hands trembling in her lap.

He reached out and took one of her wrists. Shock filled his face when he turned her hand over and saw the blood and glass. He quickly grabbed the other and turned it over as well.

"Delaney why didn't you tell me you were hurt?" he demanded, before moving to get up.

When he stood on his bad leg he groaned and had to close his eyes but it didn't stop him. Once he was standing he reached out and carefully took her wrists, helping her to her feet with him.

Looking around the room he swore and looked embarrassed, one hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Delaney stretched up to kiss him on the cheek.

"It's alright," she reassured him.

"It's not," he shook his head, "There's something wrong with me."

He didn't give her a chance to reply. Putting his arm lightly around her, he led her through the obstacle course of broken glass, pieces of furniture, and spilled alcohol.

At the door, he told her to wait before stepping back to his bed and grabbing his robe. He pulled it on and tied it at the waist to keep his still angry, red, scars covered the best he could.

He opened the door and stepped out into the hall with her. Delaney was surprised to find Harris sitting propped up against the far wall fast asleep. Vincent left her to walk over to him.

Using the wall for support, he eased himself down until he was almost in a crouch in front of Harris. He closed his eyes against the pain for a moment before waking up the man.

"I'm sorry to wake you," he said when the valet stirred, "I need your help with something."

"Of course," Harris yawned and scrambled to his feet, "What can I do?"

"Lady Adair has glass in her hands. Can you help me take care of them? Like you did with my stitches?"

Harris nodded quickly, looking at Delaney who held her hands up to show him. He winced at the sight.

"I can fix that," he promised Vincent, "I'll be right back."

Opening the door to her room for her, Vincent stood back letting Delaney go in first. For a moment Delaney was worried she might find Ivy in her bedroom waiting for her but thankfully she didn't.

Holding her hands with the palms up, Delaney sank down on one of the couches. It was so late and she was starting to feel the exhaustion. She watched as Vincent stoked the fire before going around and lighting the candles. It was a slow process. His limp was now as bad as she'd ever seen it.

"It's much brighter and.... warmer in here than in my room," he smiled at her as he came back and eased down beside her, jaw locked then until he was able to relax again.

"You do keep your bedroom like a cave," she giggled.

"Ah well less light means less of me you have to see," he said keeping his smile in place but she knew it was just a mask now. His sad eyes told the truth.

"You don't have a mirror in there either," she commented curiously.

"No," he scoffed, "Why would I want one? Who would want to look at this more than they have to?" He gestured over his face and chest.

"Do you think... you could learn to like the way you look again?"

He truly laughed at that, looking at her in disbelief, "Do you think you could ever like the way I look again?"

"I think I'm already starting to," she answered simply, knowing he was expecting her to say no.

His laughter stopped immediately and he studied her, trying to gauge if she was being honest or not. He opened his mouth to say something but the door opened and Harris came in with a younger boy behind him.

They set everything on the table in front of her windows before he dismissed the boy back to the kitchen. They had each brought a steaming pitcher of water. One, Harris set on her wash table and the other he left on her sitting table where he intended to wash her hands.

"I thought about making tea but figured it was too late," Harris smiled at them, then took a deep breath and looked down at Delaney's hands, "We should get started. This is going to take a while."

Delaney sat at her little table which was like the one in Vincent's room where they'd had their meals while he was recovering. Harris sat across from her and gently directed her hands until they were hovering over a bowl.

"Alright," he looked at her apologetically, "Brace yourself."

Vincent hurried to her side as Harris poured the water over her bloody hands. Delaney cried out and her fingers tried to curl into fists.

"Try not to do that," Vincent said pulling a chair up beside her and taking hold of her wrists to keep them in place.

Next, Harris pulled out a pair of shiny metal tweezers and looked at them grimly. Delaney couldn't watch and buried her head against Vincent's shoulder. Luckily he was sitting with his uninjured side towards her.

As the valet, now doctor, started his work, Delaney squeezed her eyes closed against the stabbing pains when he worked a piece free. Tears managed to still escape and fell onto Vincent's chest.

Her husband kissed the top of her head then and whispered encouragement and apologies. He told her she was almost done at least a dozen times before she actually was.

Finally satisfied that all the glass was out, Harris washed the blood from her hands and ever so lightly patted them dry. He wound the bandages around them until it looked like Delaney was wearing lumpy white mittens.

"I'm sorry about that," he apologized to Delaney as he looked at her tear-stained face.

"Nonsense," she tried to force a laugh, "I don't know what I would've done without you."

"Thank you," Vincent said sincerely as he began blowing out all the candles, "I'm sorry about... about all this."

Harris just grinned, "I know what haunts you and I don't blame you for it a bit."

Vincent looked away, nodding.

"Good night my Lady," he bowed to her, "Night Vince."

The couple told him good night and he was gone. Delaney looked at Vincent who now appeared as if he'd been through a battle. She guessed he really had in a way. Looking at herself in her grand mirror she realized she looked much the same.

"You need to sleep now," she smiled warmly at Vincent, stepping close to him, "and so do I."

He gently took her wrists and studied her bandaged hands.

"I'm sorry for this," he said softly, "It's my fault you had to go through that."

"Shh," she kissed him on his cheek, "I fell in some glass on the floor. Yes, you broke the glass but it's not like you did it with the intention of having me fall and get hurt."

"You'll have to be gentle with them tonight," he let her wrists go and met her gaze again, "Try not to bump them on things. They're going to be sore."

"Are you... are you going back to your room then?"

"I don't know, "he studied her seriously, "I don't really want to be away from you just yet."

"Good," she grinned, "Will you sleep in my bed with me for tonight?"

Vincent hesitated, looking towards her bed. "Are you sure you want me to?"

"Of course," she giggled, "I wanted to sleep in your bed earlier but you said no."

"Ah," he smirked and pulled her in against him, "Well good then. Because if you don't mind I'd really like to kiss you again."

"I don't mind at all," her voice sounded lower, "In fact, I had been planning to kiss you again as soon as I could anyways."

A mischievous grin spread across his face and his eyes sparkled. Taking her wrists gently, he walked backwards until the bed came up behind him. Vincent let go of her and untied his robe at the waist. Shrugging it off, he let it fall to the floor.

He reached for Delaney but she whispered for him to wait. Stepping back a bit, she took in the sight of him before her and bit her lip.

Before, when she'd seen him half-dressed at the hospital, she had been distracted by his webbing of scars. Now, she saw beyond them and soaked up the sight of him.

He was tall with strong shoulders. Her eyes slid over his lean, muscular chest and down to his abdomen. Then farther down still when she followed a little path of hair from his navel downward where it disappeared into the waistline of his breeches.

He cleared his throat and looked at her nervously until she blushed and grinned sheepishly. Then he beamed in relief and reached out, pulling her to him again.

Since Delaney wasn't able, Vincent untied her robe for her and helped her out of it. It hadn't even hit the floor when he pulled her against him and dropped back onto the bed.

She laughed as he worked the blankets out from under them, before getting in beneath them with her. Vincent pulled Delaney into his heated, muscled chest. With his head propped up on an elbow, he looked down into her eyes with a tender smile.

Delaney closed her eyes as he leaned over and kissed her again. She reached up and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her. A little moan escaped the back of his throat and their kissing became hungrier.

Delaney loved the feel of his lips on hers as he held her against him. She loved tasting him and just being so close to him. She loved that he wanted to be so close to her.

At last, they separated, both out of breath. Vincent collapsed onto the bed on his back. Delaney slid up against him and rested her head on his chest.

Neither one of them said anything else that night. By the time the couple caught their breath, exhaustion had taken over and they were both sound asleep, holding each other close.