Previously
Aracella and Damian prepare for a public date at Vista Restaurant to showcase their marital harmony, though they trade sharp barbs in private. Their dinner is interrupted by Frederick, who joins them uninvited and attempts to provoke Damian by flaunting his deep history and intimacy with Aracella.
The meal came to an end.
Frederick stepped out of the restaurant alongside the couple, yet he lingered, reluctant to take his leave.
He clearly had no desire to depart, but joining them for a boat ride on the lake was out of the question, especially with other obligations awaiting him in the afternoon.
In truth, he had barely managed to carve out enough time to come here today.
He had caught wind of a rumor that Damian Vandermeer had reserved a table for the weekend at a restaurant renowned as a romantic date spot, and it was entirely obvious who his companion would be.
Frederick lifted his crimson eyes, gazing in silence at Damian and Aracella standing side by side.
Marriage had not changed Aracella in the slightest from her unwed days.
Of course, barely a month had passed since the wedding, so it was only natural that nothing had shifted yet. Still, seeing his friend just as she had always been brought Frederick a measure of relief.
‘So this wasn’t a marriage born of love. There must be another motive behind it.’
Aracella offered him a wave with the hand holding her parasol while carrying her bag in the other, leaving her entirely free of any physical contact with Damian.
Frederick took in the detail with sharp, quiet observation.
Damian offered a respectful bow.
Casting a cool glance his way, Frederick turned and extended a hand toward Aracella.
Aracella gave Frederick a bewildered look at the sudden request, but he only offered a charming smile.
His words meant he intended to leave a parting kiss upon the back of her hand, a customary greeting in high society. Aracella had received such courtesies countless times before.
Yet every man who had ever kissed her hand had been a stranger, and Frederick was anything but.
To her, nothing could feel more unnatural than having a friend kiss her hand.
Aracella closed the distance by a step, and rather than extending her hand, she leaned in to whisper quietly.
Her tone was blunt and casual, sounding precisely like someone talking to a close friend.
Frederick let out a soft chuckle, though he swiftly composed his expression upon noticing Damian’s presence.
Aracella opened her lace-trimmed parasol, turning away alongside Damian.
The stunning couple walked off side by side, their beauty turning heads wherever they went.
Frederick narrowed his eyes, fixating on the precise gap that separated the two as they strolled.
It was an ambiguous distance, leaving him to wonder whether Aracella should truly be left as she was.
Damian spoke up out of nowhere as they drew near the edge of the lake.
Just moments earlier, he had been commenting on the day’s weather, keeping up the appearance of an affectionate conversation for anyone watching.
Aracella, who had been listening with half an ear, stopped dead in her tracks, looking thoroughly dumbfounded.
No one had asked him to act that way in the first place.
She eyed him in bewilderment, and Damian tilted his head slightly to look down at her, maintaining an ostensibly gentle tone as though replying to a sweet remark.
Beneath neatly styled hair, his striking features stood out all the more in the daylight, lending an imposing grace to his presence.
The path from the restaurant to the lake was blanketed with fallen leaves, which crunched softly beneath Aracella’s boots.
Yet the rustle was instantly drowned out by her sudden burst of laughter.
Hearing that, Aracella shook her head, still chuckling.
Such remarks were nothing new to her; she had grown used to hearing them ever since their academy days on account of her friendship with Frederick.
She had always wondered why those suspicions were aimed solely at her, considering Frederick spent just as much time with Paula.
Perhaps it was because Paula was already engaged, but it struck her as even stranger given that she had never once viewed Frederick in such a light. They were merely friends, nothing more.
Such notions were hardly limited to romantic relationships; people everywhere seemed quick to cast doubt on friendships between men and women.
Damian studied his wife’s guarded expression. Her face, which usually carried the rounded softness of a rabbit, now seemed to bear the sharper edge of a cat.
At the very least, it was apparent Aracella had never viewed the Prince as a romantic interest, and that clearly wasn’t about to change.
He decided to let the matter rest there. There were plenty of ways to explain why Frederick put him on edge, but he had no desire to plant any lingering thoughts in her mind.
When Aracella began analyzing something in depth, the other person invariably found themselves drawn into her orbit, whether they meant to be or not.
Her words were a direct jab at Damian, who had been taking meticulous care not to brush against her even by accident.
Seeing him struck speechless, she merely tilted her head with a haughty air and spoke in a sharp, teasing tone.
With confident strides, she headed toward the lakeside pier, where the boats drifted gently atop the water.
Plenty of couples were enjoying excursions out on the lake, yet Damian and Aracella drew every eye without question.
An unconventional sorceress and a knight of unyielding steel.
The news of their union had seized public fascination, and the unforeseen marriage remained the talk of high society.
Beneath the surreptitious gazes of curious onlookers, the two settled into the boat and drifted slowly across the surface, savoring their quiet moment together.
A late spring breeze grazed their cheeks, bringing with it a pleasant, tingling freshness.
With faint smiles, the couple began exchanging pleasantries.
To anyone watching from afar, only an indistinguishable murmur could be heard, but the expressions on their faces suggested they were sharing the sweetest of conversations.
Aracella asked in a peculiar tone, her eyes fixed on his muscular arms as he worked the oars.
The corner of Damian’s mouth twitched with a suppressed smirk, and he surveyed the broad expanse of water around them.
Crossing the entire lake alone in a single minute was an impossible feat. Even with his daily regimen and thoroughly conditioned body, it bordered on madness, so how could she possibly manage with those delicate arms of hers?
Aracella snapped her fingers, and a sudden breeze swept in from nowhere, nudging their boat forward with gentle force.
The wind was of her own making.
Though both kept smiles plastered on their faces as they traded barbs without yielding an inch, their smiles carried a distinct edge of annoyance when viewed from up close.
Fortunately, no one dared draw near Lord and Lady Vandermeer.
Their combined presence cast an imposing aura that kept people at bay, leaving anyone who drifted close feeling an instinctive prickle of awe.
Aracella took note of the other vessels drifting around them, where lovers held hands, embraced, and shared kisses in an air thick with romance, while their own boat remained utterly tranquil.
Those murmured doubts from a passing couple only heightened Aracella’s concern.
They could not afford to let their guard down completely, given that an attack could come at any moment based on Rosalyn’s confession.
Damian’s brows rose in an involuntary twitch.
He was no fool; he understood perfectly well what the words implied. She was talking about engaging in some physical touch, just like the others.
And yet…
His gaze drifted down to her hand—small and pale, as though it might melt away under the sunlight.
How could he possibly grasp such a hand without hurting it?
He then took in her slender, graceful frame and delicate bone structure, wondering how he could wrap his arms around her without breaking her.
His eyes rose to her slender neck, trailing up to her lovely red lips. Those lips…
Flustered, Damian cast his eyes downward and dragged a hand across his eyelids, firmly reminding himself that he was entirely unprepared for any kind of physical intimacy.
Just as he was about to suggest an alternative, he lifted his head.
He had no idea when she had moved, but Aracella was suddenly right in front of him.
Those full lips he had been surreptitiously watching were moving now, seemingly capable of bewitching anyone who looked.
Without realizing it, Damian held his breath and obeyed.
As Aracella drew nearer, she reached out her hand.
The moment her petite frame tilted slightly toward him, Damian felt his heart seize with sheer tension.
The faint fragrance of flowers drifted from her pinned-up hair.
When her fingertips brushed closer still, his composure shattered.
He shot up on instinct and vaulted across to the opposite bench, sending the boat into a violent rocking heave.
Aracella nearly tumbled over, barely managing to keep her balance.
Having switched seats in a moment of sheer panic, Damian caught his breath and tried to steady himself, only to freeze when he looked across.
He had failed to realize that the violent jolt had kicked up a sudden wave—one that had washed right over Aracella.
A curse nearly slipped from his lips, but he swallowed it down just in time.
Amidst a terrifying silence, Aracella turned her head around slowly.
With soaked strands of hair plastered against her face and dark eyes blazing with fury, she looked positively terrifying, like a water wraith summoned from the depths.
She could not rein in the wrath boiling up inside her.
This whole disaster was the direct result of her husband desperately trying to avoid any physical contact with her.
When her voice dropped, dripping with bitter venom, Damian felt as though he had run into a wild bear and hastily held up both hands in an attempt to pacify her.