Chapter 45
Daniel asleep in bed with a woman. If he hadn't seen it with his own eyes, Dominic would never have believed it, not even in death. The more he chewed on it, the more absurd it seemed, and he shook his head like a madman, chuckling.
'That sly bastard. Acting all prim and proper, but doing everything behind closed doors? But seriously, this guy. He must have done something, right? Wait, does he even know how?'
He burst into incredulous laughter at his own momentary "what if." After all those years surviving among men obsessed with that act, how could he not know?
'No. Maybe he's surprisingly inept at it.'
Thinking it over amid his laughter, Dominic's brows furrowed seriously again. It wasn't impossible for Daniel. Both he and Daniel had spent their childhoods trembling in disgust around women. As a result, they'd unintentionally kept their distance from them. While other guys sought out booze and women the moment they had money, the two hunted, sharpened swords, and tamed horses. Dominic at least drowned himself in drink sometimes. Daniel never joined group drinking sessions and, even when he drank, would sit alone lamenting until everyone else passed out. After Laura's death, Daniel avoided people to an extreme degree. He drew lines everywhere, built walls, and isolated himself so no one could enter. He barely spoke, to the point where Dominic thought his mouth had fused shut. He'd been kicked away countless times trying to pry it open by force. Normally, Dominic would have said leave the bastard be, but... Sigh. Back then, Daniel's state was so dire he couldn't even crack a joke. It took his father and Dominic tremendous effort over a long time to even step inside those lines. Even after, they never took their eyes off him, fearing he'd cause an accident. So, would he have a woman close? Despite the women openly seducing him every time he visited Shendal Castle, he never batted an eye. He'd acted so wooden that Dominic even suspected he'd secretly castrated himself.
"Does that mean His Grace is occupied?"
Dominic narrowed his eyes and rubbed his chin at Stefan's question.
"Who knows... He should be very busy."
Honestly, he still couldn't believe it. Daniel spending the night with a woman? The Duchess couldn't have stripped naked and seduced him like all those other women who'd thrown themselves at Daniel.
'Aigoo. I don't know. How would I understand the profound world of a married couple?'
Dominic scratched the back of his head vigorously and plopped into a chair in the corner of the office.
"Anyway, if you want to get even one of those tasks done properly, don't go to the lord—go to the Duchess. This duchy won't run without her."
"I have no intention of troubling the frail Duchess."
Frail? What nonsense, like a dog eating grass. And needless worry for someone who loved work so much she'd tackle anything? Rumors of the Harkbon curse and her unusual appearance aside, the Duchess would outlive him. He'd have died three years ago if Daniel hadn't saved him, with no telling when he'd be dragged back to the battlefield. Besides, those who seem sickly often linger the longest. Dominic poked his own temple with his index finger, chuckling through his teeth.
"Use that brain of yours, Baron. You must have received reports that this land survived just fine without its lord for the past three years. So who do you think managed it? The dead-as-a-doornail Duke Rihardt? Or the illiterate mercenaries?"
Stefan's composed facade cracked at the mention of reports. Why act so obviously when he knew full well? Dominic snickered again at Stefan standing ramrod straight in the office center like a garden statue. This time, his smiling lips were a bit softer.
"What are we to do with someone so oblivious? This is a problem."
He'd heard "oblivious" often enough that Stefan couldn't retort much and clamped his mouth shut. He knew Dominic was mocking and warning him simultaneously, but he couldn't fully disagree. Rigid, stubborn, principle-bound fool ignorant of luck—that was how most who knew Stefan assessed him. He couldn't fathom why the Chamberlain Count had recommended him to the Dowager Empress. Letting out a deep sigh that heaved his chest, Stefan's eyes fell on Dominic's slovenly posture, barely perched on the chair. Stefan's brows furrowed instantly. He recalled the document from the Duke yesterday mentioning preparations for the knighthood creation and investiture in House Rihardt. That meant this man was no longer a wandering mercenary but a vassal knight of Duke Rihardt. Not just any house—the prestigious Twelve Dukes. His zeal to correct that rude posture ignited. To fix that slouch, tying him to the chair with sturdy rope for half a day seemed ideal. Oblivious to Stefan's imaginings, Dominic dangled his calf and interlaced his fingers.
"So, Mr. Chief Butler, planning to climb the ranks?"
"Enough with the advice and concern. If you know where His Grace is, just tell me. As you know, I have much to do."
Dominic's lip curled slyly upward.
"In his bedroom."
Stefan, who had glanced at the bright morning sky, tilted his head.
"Still?"
"I told you. Our lord does nothing. The real power in this duchy is the Duchess."
He'd heard Duke Rihardt had no interest in his territory, so that could be. Fine, whatever.
"Then do you know where the Duchess is?"
"She's in the bedroom too."
Bedroom? Stefan squinted suspiciously at Dominic.
"...How do you know the lady is in the bedroom?"
"What are you imagining? She's in our lord's bedroom."
Dominic clucked his tongue in disbelief, and Stefan cleared his throat awkwardly, turning his head. Right. A married couple in the bedroom together—nothing strange. But at this hour, with the sun so high? Glancing again at the cloudless blue sky, Stefan tilted his head more pronouncedly.
"Still?"
Dominic, lounging back in the chair with arms crossed, snorted loudly.
"Come on. Give them a break. It's their honeymoon."
*** She could neither breathe nor open her eyes. She wanted to pound his shoulder to make him stop, but at some point, Daniel had seized her wrists and pinned them down. Their bodies clung so tightly she feared they'd merge into one. She considered pushing his heavy leg away but couldn't muster the nerve. Instinct told her not to provoke him further. Only when she thought she couldn't endure more did his lips finally pull away. Though they soon trailed to her cheek and down her neck. Frida flinched her shoulders and seized the moment to gasp out.
"It, it hurts. Daniel. It hurts. Ugh!"
Daniel, who had been nibbling her earlobe after climbing her nape, froze.
"Hoo..."
Reaching for her forehead as she exhaled held breaths, he brushed aside her sweat-dampened hair and asked.
"Where does it hurt?"
Daniel's low, husky voice trembled faintly.
"M-my wrist. Please, loosen up a bit..."
Only then did Daniel realize he was twisting her wrist. He'd been gripping the sheets but had grabbed her again at some point. Releasing her, he extended his fingers to carefully wind her hair around them. Her snow-white strands coiled around his sun-browned fingers. Though reminiscent of winter, Frida always emanated a mysterious warmth. He wanted to embrace that warmth. Touch it, grip it, until he went mad. His unsealed longing raced like a wild horse across the plains. Extending his arm back, Daniel stripped off his shirt and flung it to the floor. Propping his fully recovered, firm forearm beside her face, he said.
"If you don't want this, say so now."
Not that he'd stop if she did. His reflection in her wide eyes already showed him half-mad. When had it started? Seeing this woman, thrust into his life without permission, in a different light. Everyone said she'd die soon, so he'd glanced her way more. Curiosity sparked seeing Ricardo and Dominic fuss over her. The day she'd collapsed trapped in a secret passage while rummaging his room. Seeing her half-torn bodice, he'd harbored embarrassing imaginings he couldn't voice.
"Today's Frida confesses to today's Duke."
Hearing her absurd confession that she liked him, his heart had pounded for the first time before a woman. When he learned Ricardo had shared his past with her, he'd been angry... and anxious. She must be disappointed in him. He'd wandered searching for her, imagining her clear eyes filled with contempt.
"I'm not saying the Duke did well—this clearly means the Dowager Empress was in the wrong."
But Frida had taken his side.
"Well. I don't know. Today's Duke isn't really my type."
His brief relief shattered at her prim dismissal. It was unfamiliar, how quickly he felt dejected. Whenever he wanted to appear good to Frida, memories of his younger self surfaced—strutting naively before Dowager Empress Margaret, oblivious to her ulterior motives. He'd tried keeping distance, but his desire only grew. He wanted her pure eyes, which seemed untaintable, to cloud with the same longing as his. He wondered how her white hair would feel sweat-soaked and clinging to his skin. He wanted to... hold his wife.
"And today?"
Before touching her skirt hem, Daniel mustered his last patience for a question.
"Am I... to your taste today?"
Even laced with anxiety, Frida didn't avert her gaze. Her lips, moistened by him, slightly swollen; her slender waist timidly writhing against his thigh—it drove him mad. Imagining his mark on her flawless white neck, he could endure no more. As he descended without awaiting a reply, Frida raised both arms to pull him into an embrace.
"Daniel. I... really want to become your wife."
Gripping her rustling hair, Daniel nipped her neck. Carefully, but leaving a distinct mark, he murmured.
"You are already my wife, approved by the imperial family."
As he teased her neck, Frida clutched his bare shoulder tightly and said.
"N-not that. I want to do other things together too."
"We're doing that now."
"No. I mean sharing everyday life. Talking, eating meals face-to-face... that sort of thing."
As much as she wanted. He was willing to play along with an innocent noble lady's whims. Honestly, in his current mood, he could indulge even more. Satisfied with nuzzling her neck, Daniel whispered lower still.
"Tell me if there's more you want."
"I... want to have yours."
"Say it."
His fingertips, unable to hold back, had just grazed her skirt when.
"A child. I want your child, Daniel."
