Duke of the Beast and the Vicarious Bride - Chapter 90

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※ This work contains depictions of coercive relationships, explicit language, and other graphic content. Reader discretion is advised.

In a single glance, a multitude of emotions passed between them. Fiona discovered many things in Caligo’s eyes.

Trust and affection burned in his beautiful golden gaze, alongside desire, intoxication, and surrender. She had not been able to name it before, but now Fiona was certain. Caligo held her in his heart. As much as she cared for him—perhaps even more.

The realization stirred an overwhelming swell of emotion within her. Though he was a husband she had acquired by circumstance, the connection of their hearts made this bond precious beyond measure.

“I meant what I said about protecting you,” she whispered. “I want to make you happy. From now on, always.”

It was a vow long overdue—words that should perhaps have been spoken at their wedding. As she embraced him, his great body yielded without resistance, melting softly into her arms.

“Fiona, I… I also, you…”

Whether he still struggled with complex expressions or simply could not find the words, Caligo left the sentence unfinished. Yet his earnest attempt to respond to her warmed her heart immeasurably.

For a long moment, they held each other in this belated pledge.

Though Caligo’s bare body—not a single scrap of cloth upon him—was soiled with earth, and Fiona herself was disheveled from running and stumbling, a tender fragrance of romance bloomed between them.

But after a time, Fiona became aware that something beyond tenderness had awakened in the space where their bodies pressed together. It was due to a physical change in Caligo.

Because she stood embracing his neck and shoulders, Caligo had naturally buried his head against her chest. At the same time, his heavy arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her tightly into his embrace as if pressing her close.

Trapped between his arms and legs, Fiona’s body was now pressed against his without a single gap.

“…”

Truth be told, as the embrace lengthened, Fiona herself had not been entirely free of wandering thoughts.

Perhaps it was because every act they had shared until now had been of a certain nature. Pressed against him, her body responded first, stirring strange sensations. The breath that washed against her chest in gusts—huff, huff—seemed rougher than before. Her own heartbeat quickened in response, a wave of excitement washing over her.

But Fiona quickly concealed such signs.

She had not brought Caligo here for that purpose, nor was this the proper time or place.

What she needed to do now was not to join with him in passion, but to wash him clean, feed him until he was satisfied, and consider what was to come.

Perhaps Caligo’s body was responding automatically not from genuine desire, but from the experiences they had shared. Everything they had done together until now had been only the business of the bedchamber. Just as one might salivate at the sight of food, his body might simply be reacting by habit.

Uncomfortable with the suddenly charged atmosphere, Fiona gently extracted herself from Caligo’s embrace. He seemed to regret the loss, but she deliberately ignored his expression.

She was not yet immune to such moods. Thinking on it, even their nights together had always been conducted as tasks to be completed quickly, which made this all the more awkward.

Besides, she thought, we have only just now seen each other’s faces.

When they had not known, it was one thing—but they were only now truly beholding one another. Not in darkness, but in the bright light of day, seeing each other clearly in every detail? It would not do.

“First, you are a terrible mess. Shall we begin with a bath?”

Confronted with an embarrassment and awkwardness she had never before felt in Caligo’s presence, Fiona chose to flee.

Of course, it did not require much time for that resolve to flip as easily as turning over one’s palm.

* * *

When Fiona had brought Caligo to her chambers moments ago, the first thought that rose in her mind—laughably—was that she must wash him. Partly this was because his body had been soiled from the harsh treatment he had endured in the camp, but also because she recalled her own experience upon first arriving here: immersing herself in warm water had calmed her spirit.