I was completely trapped between the wall and my husband’s large frame.
“Mmph!”
Which meant I had no choice but to receive every greedy, desperate kiss he pressed against my lips.
Having boxed me in entirely, he pulled his lower body flush against mine and moved in a slow, deliberate roll of his hips. I couldn’t think straight with him attacking from every direction at once.
“Mm—we—we agreed you wouldn’t do that! Stop it! Y—you’re touching me, you’re—’hh.'”
“You’re the one who did this. What’s the problem.”
“I—I didn’t do anything—’mmph—'”
Every time I managed to turn my head and find a pocket of air to breathe, Kael tilted his own head at the exact same moment and pressed back into my lips, leaving not even a sliver of space unclaimed.
A low sound broke from his throat before he let his mouth travel downward—dragging slowly over the soft skin of my neck, lips and tongue alternating with the barest hint of teeth.
“Don’t—don’t leave a mark! People will see us later—!”
“I won’t.”
His restraint had clearly gone completely.
“Ha. Damn.”
He muttered something that usually only appeared in the bedroom, then went to work on the hook of my dress with practiced hands—the dress I had changed into for the reception.
With a sharp, impatient pull, he dragged the shoulder straps down and peeled the fabric away until my chest was exposed to the cool air.
It happened in seconds. Far too fast to track.
A gasp escaped between my lips as the chill hit my skin.
“Mm—Emily is supposed to be waiting, you said! You liar!”
Kael pressed his face deep against my chest and exhaled a long, heated breath.
He didn’t answer.
“And you’re—not answering again—’hh.'”
‘Tuk. Tuk.’
His mouth moved against mine while he shrugged free of his jacket—frantic, urgent, like a man running from something.
His formal wear hit the floor before I had time to register it happening. His upper body was bare in an instant, and I found myself eye to eye with the flex and shift of his back muscles, furious and alive beneath his skin.
Even now, Kael was pressing kisses everywhere—jaw, cheek, the bridge of my nose—speaking against each one.
“Just once. Yes? It’ll be quick.”
“You—you always say ‘just once’ and you’ve never, not once—’mm!'”
His lips swallowed the rest of the sentence. The kind of kiss that dissolved all feeling in my legs and turned everything dark at the edges.
‘Look at this. He asked and didn’t even wait for an answer.’
I pounded my fist against his chest over and over and wrenched my face to the side.
“‘Ha—’ I can’t—breathe—! Why are you being so rough suddenly—’hh!'”
He took hold of me—and I was nothing but flour dough in his hands.
‘Honestly. What is wrong with me. Why do I keep falling for it.’
* * *
Full darkness had settled over the duchess’s bedroom.
The night sky held a bright, buoyant moon, drifting serenely above.
Through the translucent white canopy, the outline of two bodies pressed close together was barely visible.
Kael was, as he often was at this hour, quietly observing his wife where she slept in his arms.
Watching her sleep, touching her hair, tracing the lines of her face—these had become the quiet rituals of his nights.
He brushed the tips of his fingers along her lashes, which trembled faintly like butterfly wings in motion. He traced the clean, delicate slope of her nose. He stroked the soft give of her cheek—and when that wasn’t enough, he pressed a gentle bite into it, very carefully, the way you might handle something precious and breakable.
He pressed small kisses all across her face, then caught her lower lip between his teeth, barely grazing. His hand made a slow journey down: her shoulder, the curve of her back, the swell of her hip. There was still something unresolved in his touch, even now—a wanting that didn’t diminish no matter how many nights he spent like this.
He could kiss that mouth a thousand times and never feel finished. He could hold her every night and still want to hold her closer.
Rough and breathless. Slow and tender. Falling asleep still inside her.
And yet—why was it never enough?
He pressed a fingertip idly to her cheek. The flesh was soft—the particular softness of a sleeping infant, warm and freshly made. Normally this would earn him a frown and a small sound of complaint, even in her sleep. Tonight she was completely silent, breath steady and deep.
‘She really wore herself out today.’
He thought of all the crying, and calculated the hours—nearly two, he estimated, from start to finish. In consideration of the day she’d had, he had been briefer than usual. He had meant to keep his hands to himself until the reception was over. But then she had appeared in that dress—the exact red of his eyes—with a rose in her hair, smiling that particular smile, and he had been entirely unable to help himself.
“Ivelina.”
He murmured her name against her ear. She didn’t stir.
She was sleeping the way children sleep—tucked in tight, breath light and even. He pressed a line of small kisses to the curve of her ear, nipped gently at her earlobe.
Only then did she make a small sound—’mm’—and burrow deeper into his chest.
He felt the faint warmth of her breath against his skin and closed his eyes slowly.
“Why are you so beautiful.”
She shifted in his arms—just a small movement, a curl of her lips brushing against his chest.
“And indecent.”
Her breathing was as untroubled as a child’s, thoroughly innocent.
“And impossibly sweet.”
He needed to go back out to the reception. But separating himself from her was proving, as always, unreasonably difficult.
He exhaled a long, resigned breath and pressed his lips to her forehead—a decision made.
He withdrew the arm she’d been sleeping against and slipped a pillow gently beneath her head. Then he tucked the blanket close around her, making sure no cold air could reach her bare skin through any gap.
“I’ll be back soon.”
He kissed her once more—her lips, slightly swollen from everything that had passed between them—a brief, reluctant press of his mouth against hers.
Then he smoothed her hair back from her face and whispered close to her ear.
“I love you.”
Kael dressed with steady, unhurried hands—not slow, not rushed—every motion practiced. Even as he fastened the buttons at his cuffs, his eyes never left her.
‘Creak.’
The door swung open and closed.
The duchess’s bedroom fell back into its quiet dark.
“Mm… Kael…”
Ivelina was deep in a dream—a sweet one, with the face of the person she loved best in the world.
* * *
Outside, the garden was still alive with guests enjoying the late hours of the reception. Children ran and laughed, heedless of the time. The adults had gathered in their clusters—some sharing whiskey, some trading warmth and noise over drinks and conversation.
Kael passed through without acknowledging any of the guests who tried, hopefully, to catch his eye or draw him into conversation.
His mind was entirely occupied with thoughts of his wife, alone in the bed upstairs.
‘Maybe I should go back. Just once more.’
He stopped walking. Stood there, genuinely considering.
That was when Karson’s voice came from nearby.
“Oh. Kael.”
“Why are you sitting here alone?”
“I’ve been abandoned. Your mother and the other mother went off somewhere together and left strict instructions that I was not to follow.”
Kael strolled over and dropped into an empty chair at the family table. He lifted a cigar from the table with an indifferent hand and set it between his teeth without lighting it.
Kael had given up cigars after meeting Ivelina. He didn’t light them anymore—only held them. It was one of the many small ways he filled the particular emptiness of being without her.
“And my father-in-law?”
“Hmm. From what I’ve heard, he’s somewhere crying. I don’t know where precisely. But where is our daughter-in-law? Weren’t you with her?”
“She seemed very tired. I’ve just come from settling her in her room.”
Kael answered distantly and rolled his neck to either side.
Karson watched him with an expression saturated with skepticism.
‘Tired. Sure. That son of mine—he was out there tormenting her and now he has the nerve to use the word tired. Poor girl.’
In Ivelina’s absence, Kael was doing what he always did—emanating a quality of darkness that discouraged all human approach.
Karson summoned his courage.
“Ah—ahem. Kael, I wanted to say something.”
“Go ahead.”
“As the former Duke of Hardeion, and as your father—and as your wife’s father-in-law—there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”
“You’re taking a long time to get to it, Father.”
Without Ivelina, Kael was usually like this. Cold as a glacier in mid-winter, distant as a wind through bare trees.
Karson swallowed and forged ahead.
“Is there… any news yet? About a child?”
Something flickered in Kael’s eyes.
* * *
