The passionate lovemaking ceased as the muscles of the back that had reigned over Arlen twitched and stilled.
The movement, which had thrust hard a couple of times, stopped, and the pillar of flesh that had been rubbing against her inner walls also came to a halt.
Inside her, it pulsed, pouring his heat deep within her.
Arlen flinched at the stimulation of his length twitching as it spilled its seed.
A musky scent wafted from the thick fluid that seeped out from where they were joined.
Arlen, sprawled on the bed, belatedly caught her breath.
Her chest, tormented by his hands throughout, heaved rapidly.
Her body, not yet free from the tingling afterglow, trembled.
The aftermath of her frantic first time left her drained of strength.
Her heart pounded as if it would explode, and her lower half, which had taken his ceaseless friction, spasmed uncontrollably.
The wet sensation between her legs remained.
Barely able to lift her drooping, hazy eyelids, Arlen spoke.
“Liam, I love you.”
As if he had heard something completely unexpected, Liam froze, his eyes narrowing.
His gaze, chilling for an instant, softened just as quickly, and he gave her a light kiss on the forehead.
Arlen closed her eyes, surrendering her body to the fervent pleasure.
Flinching at the sticky fluid flowing down her pale thigh, she looked with puzzled eyes at Liam as he left the bed.
“Where are you going?”
“To my room.”
Without a backward glance, Liam picked up the robe draped over a chair and put it on.
The wide shoulders she had just been gripping so tightly were covered by the fabric.
‘My room.’ She knew that married couples often lived in separate rooms, but her eyes wavered, as she had never imagined he would leave the moment the act was over.
‘It’s our first night.’
Mulling over the symbolic meaning, Arlen tried to get up, then realized she was naked and hastily clutched the sheet to her chest.
“Aren’t we sleeping together?”
Liam, who was about to tie the belt of his robe, paused.
Seeing him turn and slowly approach, a look of relief finally crossed Arlen’s face.
He sat on the edge of the bed, met her eyes, and pulled the blanket she was clutching a little higher.
“Sleep tight.”
As he tried to move away again, Arlen grabbed his collar.
“Just for tonight, can’t we sleep together?”
In the darkness, a flicker of annoyance crossed Liam’s face before it was quickly replaced by a composed expression.
He gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and pressed a light kiss to her cheek before pulling away.
“You would be uncomfortable.”
Before she could hold him back, he stood and once again put distance between them.
“Liam.”
The man didn’t look back, not even as he opened the door and left, disappearing behind it as it closed firmly.
Liam, who had so smoothly rejected his wife’s request, let his expression harden the moment he stepped into the hall.
“The carriage is waiting, sir.” The butler, standing there as if he had known he would be coming, respectfully handed him a shirt.
Liam passed his robe to a nearby servant, slipped his arms into the shirt, and quietly crossed the dark corridor.
“The time?” he asked quietly, calmly fastening the row of gold buttons.
“You can leave now, sir.”
“Very well.”
It had taken longer than expected, so he needed to hurry, but he still stopped by his own room to finish preparing.
There was no time for a shower, but he had no intention of using the hallway as a dressing room.
In his room, Liam’s fingertips meticulously fastened every button, including the one at his collar.
The arm and chest muscles that had been prominent from his recent exertion disappeared neatly beneath the crisp shirt.
The butler, waiting with a silk suit, carefully helped him into it.
Liam moved his shoulders lightly to adjust the fit.
The sapphire-inlaid cufflinks on his sleeves glittered in the light.
Perhaps because the heat in his muscles had not yet subsided, the suit felt a little tight.
“Would you like to change, sir?” the butler asked.
“I will go as I am.
The time wasted getting an earful for being late is more precious.”
Fully dressed, Liam received a farewell from the elderly butler and descended the red-carpeted central staircase at a leisurely pace.
As he passed through the hall and reached the porch, a waiting coachman opened the carriage door and bowed low.
Liam boarded the carriage, where a lamp cast a soft halo of light.
With the quiet clatter of hooves, the coach departed the estate.
“We have arrived, Your Grace.”
Liam’s eyes, which had been gently closed, fluttered open.
He smoothed his attire, straightened his posture, and signaled with a sharp rap of his cane.
A moment later, the carriage door swung open.
Extending a long leg, he planted his foot on the step and fixed his gaze forward.
After a ride of nearly an hour, they had arrived at a palace shrouded in darkness.
A wry twist touched his lips as he recognized the location.
‘Of all places, it had to be here.’ He took a steadying breath and tightened his grip on his cane, the veins on the back of his hand standing out in sharp, irritable relief.
“She is waiting,” a servant in palace livery announced.
Liam began to walk, his stride deceptively leisurely.
The deliberate, almost provocative choice of venue had hardened his expression into a mask of stone.
The palace, long abandoned, was the very soul of desolation.
As he stepped inside, Liam paused.
“Your Grace?” the servant’s puzzled voice echoed in the cavernous space.
But Liam’s attention was captured by the ghosts of memory stirred by the long-neglected hall, each one fraying his already taut nerves.
The damp, musty air clung to him, a testament to the palace’s profound neglect.
It was just like that day, drenched in a rain that felt like the monsoon itself.
Liam loosened the knot of his necktie with a long index finger and worked his jaw.
The servant, after a moment of confused hesitation, moved on.
When the servant had departed from the grand hall’s entrance, Liam pushed open the heavy doors himself.
The flickering candlelight from within the glass lamps cast a hazy, dreamlike glow over the interior.
“Your work is as impeccable as ever,” a stern voice declared from the far end of the hall.
Liam’s gaze shot forward.
The speaker was seated on a crimson, throne-like chair.
The sight grated on his nerves, but he simply tightened his grip on his cane, the only outward sign of his irritation.
The crisp sound of his heels echoed softly on the marble floor as he approached.
He executed a respectful bow before straightening his back.
“I knew you would succeed.”
“You should use the proper title,” Liam requested, his calm tone an undeniable correction.
“Your Majesty.”
This clandestine meeting, which to any observer might seem a secret lovers’ rendezvous, was with none other than Queen Beltania.
“Very well, Duke Crawford.” Her gaze was glacial as she observed him, standing tall with his chin held high.
Beltania fought to maintain her composure, incensed by his audacity to correct her to her face.
“You have done well.
I am now deeply in your debt.
As promised…”
“It is not a simple debt,” Liam interjected, cutting her off as he settled into a chair a servant had provided.
He crossed one long, slender leg over the other, his elegant hands folding in his lap.
“It is a great debt.
I nearly lost my life, after all.”
At the mention of the Jensnail collapse, a fissure of irritation cracked her regal facade.
“And as you are well aware, I suffered considerably from the injury I sustained protecting that woman.” Liam slightly raised his right arm.
Every newspaper had plastered his bandaged arm across its front page; she was keenly aware of the incident.
‘It would have been better if he had just died,’ she thought bitterly.
But his survival and brilliant handling of the crisis had only bolstered his public favor, so it was not a complete loss for her.
As expected, Liam—a businessman who never countenanced a loss—had no intention of letting this opportunity pass.
“You desire more than what was promised.”
“Regrettably, the terms you offered no longer reflect the current market value of my services.” His eyes were cold, arrogant.
Seeing his intent to reopen a settled negotiation, Beltania suppressed a surge of fury.
“You are cunning.”
“I have eased Your Majesty’s worries.
For that, I deserve far more than mere thanks.” Each word was steeped in an arrogance that made her expression harden.
“I resolved the matter in less than half the time you allotted, allowing you to sleep soundly.
Is it not only natural to pay a commensurate price?”
Even in the gloom, his eyes were brilliant with pride.