She looked quietly into his eyes.
He spoke with wry irreverence, but his gaze was warm and steady.
She reached up and touched his cheek. Soft. Warm.
“Actual bastards usually don’t know they’re bastards…”
His red irises shifted — the faintest tremor, barely visible.
A foolish thought crossed her mind, unbidden.
‘Maybe he’s better than I assumed. Maybe I’ve been judging this person through a lens I couldn’t see past.’
Whether that was something she wanted to believe, or something that was actually true, she couldn’t say.
But perhaps she had been so enclosed in what she knew that she had failed to see what was real.
A quiet settled over the room, full and unhurried.
They looked at each other’s faces without speaking.
Her hand remained on his cheek.
He turned his lips into her palm and closed his eyes.
Warmth bloomed wherever he had touched her.
His lips, full and unhurried, began to move slowly up her arm.
He left soft, scattered kisses in his wake — grazing delicate skin, tracing and soothing. Even while doing this, his drowsy eyes stayed on hers. The look in them was something like a plea for absolution.
“Wanting to keep going while I’m crying — that does make you a bastard.”
She said it with a light primness.
His lips had found her shoulder, and were grazing slowly toward her neck.
They moved unhurriedly upward along the line of her throat, and then his mouth softly explored the curve of her ear.
“Then I’ll be a bastard.”
Her thoughts were beginning to blur. A floating sensation, like being suspended somewhere just above herself.
“…Fine. Then go ahead.”
His lips found hers. She locked her arms around his neck.
The meaning was unmistakable.
He pulled back for a breath and exhaled a curse like a sigh. His movements grew more urgent.
He buried his face in the curve of her neck. He left marks there, more deeply than usual, and for some reason she didn’t mind at all.
“Mm. Ah…”
The sounds that escaped were another matter.
The flood of sensation was beginning to dissolve the edges of her awareness. He returned to her lips and kissed her deeply, thoroughly, pulling her in.
“Ah.”
Breath as warm as his eyes settled against her cheek. They traded the same air between them.
He smelled wonderful. Something dense and forested — a deep, wild, woody scent that filled her lungs like the heart of an ancient grove.
“Mm.”
His hand moved along the curve of her body, softly first, then with more intent. His large hand gathered the softness of her and held it.
The sounds she made were no longer something she could suppress. He heard them, and his movements became more relentless in response — interspersed with moments of tenderness, but never stopping, never pausing.
His lips traced her collarbone and began to mark the rest of her, one impression at a time.
The sensation was rising like a tide, and keeping her eyes fully open was becoming impossible. When she looked at him through half-lidded eyes, he came back to her mouth immediately.
She trembled when his hand found the center of her. He soothed her — long strokes down her back, warmth pressed into tender skin, kisses scattered across her until his presence was written into her completely.
When they joined, she felt a fullness so overwhelming that tears came of their own accord.
The whole world felt replete.
She wanted him deeper, and he moved with care, meeting her there.
“Ah… mm… oh…”
His movements quickened, and when sensation finally crested, they both released a sound that was equal parts sigh and cry.
Feeling each other’s voices, they held as close as two people could be, and found each other’s mouths again.
* * *
While a ducal couple spent their wedding night, several of the female staff were required to wait outside the bedroom door.
It was their duty to ensure the night proceeded properly and to assist the new mistress when it was over.
Emily, of course, was among them — she and the new Lady Hardeion were too close for her to be anywhere else.
From beyond the door, Emily heard what there was to hear.
‘It worked.’
The wedding night had passed without incident.
Emily smiled faintly.
‘In the end, what was meant to happen simply happened.’
All in all — a good outcome.
* * *
‘Tap. Tap.’
Something touched her cheek.
She dragged her eyelids open — they felt weighted, as if something heavy had been placed on them.
She was greeted by the same pair of red eyes she had seen rather more than enough of the night before.
“Sleep well?”
“…Why are you waking me.”
She complained and retreated under the blanket.
It wasn’t really complaint so much as embarrassment, if she were honest.
‘Oh, what were you thinking last night. And you weren’t even drunk.’
Regret washed over her in waves. But last night had been different from before. She didn’t fully understand why, but she had wanted him — that much was true.
That wasn’t the problem.
The problem was the things Kael had said.
…She had, in all honesty, enjoyed herself. But looking at him in the clear light of day, she felt she might die of shame.
‘I should have gotten up early and escaped. Too late now. Damn.’
She was locked in battle with her own embarrassment under the blanket when Kael pulled it sharply back.
“Why are you hiding?”
“Me? Hiding? I wasn’t hiding at all.”
“You just hid.”
“I was trying to sleep more, not hiding. We’ve already — I mean, there’s nothing to be embarrassed about between us.”
“Ah. Right.”
Kael narrowed his eyes. They were full of skepticism.
He suddenly grabbed her hand and guided it downward, toward himself.
“Wh — what are you ‘doing!'”
“Doing? That seems harsh.”
She yanked her hand back. His presence made itself known insistently against her fingertips. She scrambled away from him.
‘Same pattern as always. Except yesterday.’
“Stop it! Starting again first thing in the morning—”
“Haha.”
Kael laughed with his whole body, tipping his head back.
She sat up to escape — and remembered she was entirely bare.
She grabbed the blanket and wrapped herself completely.
“What’s that about?”
“I’m not wearing anything.”
“Neither am I.”
He tilted his chin downward. She had taken the entire blanket, leaving him fully exposed below the waist. Including what was — unmistakably — taking a very confident interest in the proceedings.
“Cover that!”
She shoved half the blanket toward him.
“‘That.’ Harsh again.”
“What is there to be harsh about?”
“After how much you enjoyed it last night.”
“I — you’re out of your mind!”
“You were absolutely—”
She launched herself at him and clapped her hand over his mouth.
Which turned out to be a mistake.
Kael, mouth still covered, wrapped his arms around her and rolled.
She was completely trapped again.
He pressed his weight down, slid his hand beneath the small of her back, and pulled her flush against him. Bare skin met bare skin, and the solid weight of him pressed against her.
“Stop — ‘stop!'”
She flailed like a fish in a net. There were genuine limits here. She had lost count of how many times the previous night.
‘Does he never tire?’
He stood unyielding and attentive, making absolutely no secret of his intentions. She made the mistake of looking up, and found Kael watching her with an expression of lazy, unabashed hunger.
“Don’t tell me—”
“Don’t tell you what?”
“‘Again?!'”
Kael licked the underside of her jaw and growled low.
“I did say I’d be a bastard.”
* * *
