Could his feelings toward kissing have changed simply because of his prolonged illness?
If so, this might actually work in his favor.
Couldn't he just vent this impulse with her?
All he had to do was take advantage of the situation, just as she was doing.
Perhaps, once this urge was satisfied, the woman rattling his mind would finally leave his head in peace.
“If you don't wish to, it is quite all right.”
Reading Ryan's expression, Anasta started to take a step back.
“Wait a moment.”
Ryan lightly caught her by the wrist.
“I never said I didn't want to.”
· · ·
Anasta's eyes widened slightly before returning to normal. After a brief silence, she asked, “Do you know how?”
“Do you take me for a fool?”
“It is just that I know nothing at all.”
Her reply lacked its usual composed air.
Now that the moment had arrived, it seemed she was just as nervous.
Ryan's gaze wavered with unease as he stared at her face.
The strands of golden hair fluttering in the draft, her sculpted, porcelain features, and her striking, delicately red lips.
“Close your eyes,”
Ryan commanded. At his word, Anasta's eyelids fluttered shut.
His heart hammered violently, the thumping of their chests intertwining until he could no longer tell whose pulse beat so fiercely.
With tentative care, Ryan brought one hand to Anasta's cheek.
He was startled by how much softer her skin felt than he had imagined.
His other hand pressed against the mattress, clenching into a tight fist.
It should have been a simple matter of doing it once and being done with it, yet he was inexplicably strained, his heart thumping wildly.
Just like in that dream…
Ryan drew closer to Anasta.
The two shadows cast across the bed leaned nearer and nearer.
The moonlight illuminated them both, while a soft breeze brushed gently against their rising heat.
Outside, all was quiet. The two lovers who had been kissing moments earlier made no sound, as though graciously making room for Ryan and Anasta's clumsy inexperience.
Perhaps they had already left. Or perhaps Ryan could simply see nothing else around them.
It felt as if time had ground to a halt.
As if no one else remained in the entire world except him and Anasta.
Ryan faltered when her soft breath grazed his cheek.
Her scent and warmth felt far more vivid than in any dream.
It was—
truly wonderful.
He felt no revulsion whatsoever. Ryan slid the hand resting on her cheek slightly upward, letting it settle gently behind her ear and nape.
When Anasta shivered with tension, his fingers tightened reflexively—not to restrain her, but as if terrified to pull away before finding reassurance.
Then he leaned in slowly, brushed his lips carefully against hers, and finally kissed her with gentle stillness.
It was a simple kiss, devoid of haste or complication.
A light meeting of lips against lips.
Yet both held their breath, as if movement alone might shatter the weight of the moment.
Her warm breath and faint fragrance dissolved the bite of the winter air.
It felt as though he were touching a fleeting dream. He wanted to linger there for a little while… just a little while longer.
Driven by an instinctive confusion, Ryan leaned forward further, but stopped himself right there.
Startled by his sudden closeness, Anasta snapped her eyes open.
“Wait…!”
This time, she placed a gentle push against his chest, and Ryan finally drew back as if jolted awake.
“Young Master!”
Only then did Ryan regain his senses, gazing quietly at Anasta through slightly glistening eyes.
· · ·
A gust of winter wind swept through.
The faint sound of Ryan's shallow breathing echoed in the quiet.
He could feel the heat coursing through his body.
His limbs had always moved awkwardly, like a broken mechanism, but not now.
Flushed with feverish warmth, his senses felt as keenly alive as those of an unburdened man.
The cause of this sudden change was unmistakably the woman before him.
Ryan looked at her, her eyes wide like a startled rabbit's.
Her hair and gown were lightly disarranged. Taking it all in, he wet his dry lips.
Yet the spell did not last long.
The chilling draft gradually cooled his heated mind.
The clarity in his eyes began to return.
“Young Master?”
Anasta watched him as he let go of her wrist.
The man who had held her captive like a wild beast moments ago was now lost in bewildered stillness, as though he had struck a stone wall.
“Sir—”
“…Are you satisfied now?”
“Pardon?”
Breaking his silence, Ryan spoke in a slightly raised tone.
Anasta could not fathom what he meant.
“You have had your kiss. Now that your curiosity is satisfied, get out.”
“So abruptly?”
“What more could you possibly want?”
As he spoke, his Adam's apple bobbed sharply.
Rattled by the sheer force of his presence, Anasta froze for a second before reluctantly slipping off the bed.
“Leave. Quickly.”
“Just a moment, let me put on my shoes.”
“Quickly.”
Hounded by his urgency, Anasta scrambled up and hurried out before she could even slip her feet properly into her shoes.
Thud.
The moment the door clicked shut, Ryan's gaze fell to the empty spot on the bed where she had sat.
“…Damn it.”
Trying to shake off the paralysis clouding his thoughts, Ryan roughly dragged a hand through his bangs.
He could not fathom what had just happened, or how it had come to pass.
All that remained was an ember burning like fire and a fierce ache.
He furrowed his brow, acutely aware of his heart still hammering wildly.
To lose his composure over a single kiss.
Didn't this… make him look like nothing more than a green, naive boy?
He had assumed indulging the impulse once would settle everything, but he had been wrong.
Everything that had just transpired was now etched into his mind like an indelible memory.
Ryan rested his head back against the wall and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to reject these surging emotions.
· · ·
He willed the freezing breeze to carry away everything that had just taken place.
A full day had passed since the banquet.
Anasta had woken early in the morning, pulled out a sheet of paper, and penned the greeting.
It had been a long time since she had addressed a letter to Natasha. She wrote each sentence with absolute honesty and unvarnished openness.
She wrote of the stifling ducal estate, the tedious banquet, and of Ryan.
Then, worrying that Natasha might view him in too harsh a light, Anasta continued.
[Yet he is truly kind at heart.
I know that brusqueness does not reflect his true nature. Even when he speaks harshly, it stems from his illness, not because he is genuinely cruel.
Were I in Lord Ryan's place, I might have uttered words far harsher than his.
That is why I wish to draw closer to him. Not merely because I am his fiancée, but because I want him to truly feel alive. And so—]
And so.
Anasta's hand halted.
· · ·
Suddenly, the kiss she had shared with Ryan yesterday flashed across her mind.
It had been a fleeting suggestion born of curiosity, and a wish to grow even a little closer to him.
She had never expected him to agree.
And even if he did, she had never imagined anything fanciful like their relationship deepening over a single kiss.
She had simply thought they would start paying a bit more attention to one another, but…
She remembered the surprising strength ill-befitting an invalid, the lips that had engulfed hers, the heady scent of a man, and his warm touch.
Ryan was her fiancé, but he was also a man.
Confronted anew by this obvious reality, Anasta did not feel closer to him; instead, he felt slightly unfamiliar.
And the feeling was not entirely unpleasant.
She recalled how his grey eyes had lost their composure because of her.
It had been strikingly beautiful, remaining vivid before her eyes.
Her quiet heart began to flutter lightly once more.
She rose and pushed the window open to cool the flush rising in her body.
The crisp air seemed to clear her head a little, yet her chest still felt tight.
Slipping off her shawl, she sat back down at the desk and picked up her pen.
Unlike her hesitant earlier sentences, Anasta wrote the final line with absolute certainty.
Much like the tenderness she had felt for her sister.
Yet it was also distinctly different, carrying an unfamiliar edge.
Anasta thought that Natasha would surely know what this feeling was.
However, the letter bearing no clear address was never sent; instead, it was placed carefully inside her desk drawer.
Knock, knock.
“My Lady.”
The moment she put the letter away, a knock sounded at the door. It was already time for breakfast.
With a slightly anxious heart, she took charge of Ryan's meal.
After what had happened yesterday, Ryan had not managed a single wink of sleep.
· · ·
His strained eyes appeared sharper than usual.
Leaning his exhausted frame against the wall, he pricked up his ears at the sound of movement.
He assumed it was the head maid, but it was Anasta.
“Why did you come in?”
“Since my leg has completely healed, I have resumed preparing your meals starting today.”
Ryan caught his breath at her words.
Just as he had expected, Anasta's expression was as calm and composed as ever.
He felt a surge of irritation at the fact that he was the only one who had spent the night tossing, turning, and lost in thought.
END
