Lilian shrank away, shifting until she was pressed against the far end of the chaise lounge.
What was he doing here?
She had been so scared upon realizing she had held a knife to the Duke's throat that it made her stomach twist uncomfortably.
But was he going to punish her for it?
She had only acted out of instinct. He was the one who startled her. That was what she kept telling herself. He was the reason the blade had been at his throat in the first place. It was not her fault.
While she tried to steady her thoughts– silently insisting she had done nothing wrong, that she had only defended herself, Caelan watched her with a quiet, almost unreadable intensity. His sharp gaze lingered on the way her ruby eyes flickered restlessly, unfocused and darting, as if her thoughts kept slipping far from his private chamber and into some dark, spiraling space.
What was running through her mind?
He drew in a controlled breath, his jaw tightening almost imperceptibly. For the first time, he wasn't certain about what he was supposed to say to her.
He knew the bloody history between House Morvane and House Vale better than most, after all his family never made him forget it. But he held no personal grudge against this woman. It was her father who betrayed his family to their enemies, not her. And he wasn't the sort of man to punish a daughter for the sins of her lineage. As long as she didn't cause any trouble for him, there wouldn't be problems between them.
"Is it not cold?" He asked, tilting his head slightly as he regarded her. "I intended to take you to bed when you decided it was a good idea to press a blade to my throat. You seemed very brave then, but now you're startled by your own actions. Didn't know you had it in you either, I'm guessing?"
"What do you want?"
"Hm?" His brows lifted just a fraction. "Not even an apology for trying to murder your husband?"
Lilian could not resist a glare in his direction. Was this amusing to him? The Duke's expression did not shift much, but something in his eyes, an almost imperceptible glint, made her suspect he enjoyed her agitation more than he let on. He was basically toying with her.
"Come to bed."
"No," she refused.
He paused, studying her. "Why not?"
"If you think I'm going to let you consummate this marriage, then you're mistaken."
"Consummate?"
He blinked once, slow, and almost confused, before a short, amused breath escaped him.
"Why would I consummate this marriage? You're too skinny for me anyways. I prefer women with a bit more meat."
He pushed himself to his feet as he said it, his tone maddeningly casual.
"I won't touch you," he added, brushing off the imaginary dust from his sleeves. "But if you freeze to death or starve in my fortress, the crown will assume I had something to do with it, and I have no desire to deal with baseless accusations on top of everything else. I'm afraid you don't have much of a choice here."
"I'd prefer a separate chamber."
"You'll get one by tomorrow," he answered. "There will be someone showing up to check the sheets by morning to confirm if our marriage is valid. If we aren't in the same room, they'll assume it wasn't consummated, and you'll be sent back to your uncle. If that were to happen, I'll just go ahead with my plans to take over the southern borders."
"Take it, for all I care." Lilian shot back in a whispered tone, but he heard her anyway.
"Is that so?" his tone was mild, too mild, and that unsettled her more than it irritated her.
She pressed her lips together, unwilling to continue the exchange.
Why was he insisting, anyway?
It wasn't as if she had complained about where she was sleeping, unless he had some ulterior motive behind it. It was impossible to even acknowledge the idea that someone as cruel as him would care about her. Besides, she wasn't planning to die anytime soon, so he didn't need to worry about what the crown might assume.
"Fine," he said at last, taking a step back. "The chaise lounge is all yours."
And he walked away, back into his inner chamber. Lilian's gaze followed the broad line of his back until he disappeared from the adjoining parlor. And only then, did she finally release a breath.
Her heart was still racing.
But… he did not force her. Not as she has feared.
When the maids had been cleaning her up earlier, they mentioned how the Duke was a man who was used to being obeyed, and how no one knew whether he would force her to his bed or not. They also said, with a sort of nervous fascination, that the Duke never had time for women… Yet, to Lilian, he somehow had the leisure to make bold comments about his preferences.
Was he really going to have her sent back tomorrow?
She didn't want to stay in this freezing fortress, but being returned to her uncle, back to that house filled with cruelty, sounded like a fate far worse.
"Ow!"
The sharp sting snapped her from her spiraling thoughts, and she hissed through her teeth. Only then did she realize her knees were still in terrible shape. The moment she shifted her legs, pain shot through them, worse now after sitting still for so long. She sucked in a deep breath, wincing.
Ah! That Constance of a woman was indeed cruel.
What was she supposed to do about her legs? She couldn't exactly walk properly, and it took her a lot of effort to follow the steward up here.
One way or another, she needed to figure out a way to tend to herself before it worsens.
************
When morning came, Lilian woke up to the murmur of muffled voices drifting through the doors.
Before she could make sense of where she was, a firm knock sounded– followed immediately by the door swinging open.
Lady Constance swept in with her servants, brisk and uninvited, followed by an unfamiliar middle-aged woman dressed in elegant, yet formal layers that marked her as someone of official standing.
"What are you doing, still in bed?" Lady Constance questioned. She didn't even pause long enough for an answer before flapping her hand dismissively. "We can deal with that later. Someone hand me the sheets so we can get this over with."
Lilian blinked, momentarily frozen.
H-huh?
It took her several stunned heartbeats to realize she was lying on the Duke's bed. Not the chaise lounge.
Not the adjoining parlor.
His bed— the massive king-sized bed.
Her pulse spiked.
Lady Constance's servants reached forward and grabbed the sheets, and Lilian was still frozen to stop them. The poised woman standing next to Lady Constance now seemed familiar. From her official dressing, she had to be a court-appointed matron, sent by the crown to confirm if the marriage had been validated.
The sheets were handed to her, and Lilian's stomach dropped when the woman searched the sheets and gave Lady Constance a small nod.
"There's blood, the marriage has been validated."