Chapter 191

It began with the back of her hand.

Nerys’s slender wrists were caught in Cledwyn’s large grasp. She felt trapped, unable to move—both because of his hold and the way his persistent, intent gaze bound her just as tightly.

His warm breath slowly traced the back of her right hand, then her left. The faint heat of his lips, barely brushing her skin, made every hair on her body stand on end.

Slowly, his lips closed over her left ring finger—from tip to base—where her wedding ring rested.

“Ah…!”

They had shared many nights together, but this was the first time he had done something like this. Such a… suggestive act.

The wedding vow on that finger was absolute truth—irrevocable—and declared that they would be one.

It was an act of engraving that vow into her.

Having spent years in court, where flirtation and hidden affairs were everyday spectacles, Nerys knew something about the strange games lovers played, even without personal experience.

People spoke of touching and exchanging breaths as if it were the greatest of pleasures—an irresistible joy, an instinctive pull. They whispered about everything from the simplest affection to the most peculiar indulgences that promised secret delight.

But she only half-believed them. Yes, it was amusing to watch people chase such excitement. Yet the court was a place where vanity and pretense were weapons. At least her nights with Abelus had never been pleasant. No matter how much he complained, she could do nothing about it.

Was it because there was no love? At first, she thought so. Megara and Abelus always seemed to enjoy themselves. She could never truly love Abelus, but their tenderness had still made her envious. Even so, there were many in the palace who indulged in fleeting pleasures without love.

Maybe it was her body that was the problem. Through her miserable marriage, she had convinced herself of that. Some people were sensitive; others were not. She believed she was dull—another flaw that made her husband weary of her.

She truly believed it.

But now, it felt as if her entire world was shaking. No intimate touch she had ever known or heard of compared to this—this single, seemingly innocent act. Her entire body felt awakened, screaming for more.

Her gray eyes trembled, narrowing under the weight of his gaze—filled with hunger, powerful and consuming. Remembering their kisses, her breath quickened. The sight of his throat moving, like that of a beast ready to devour, was vivid before her eyes.

Her hands were still trapped in his. His lips, after licking and sucking her fingers, moved slowly toward the inside of her wrist, then traced down her slender arm.

Touch after touch, the kisses fell light as petals but clung heavy as dew. Red marks bloomed against her pale skin. They would fade soon, yet he lifted her arm above her head and smiled, satisfied.

When his lips parted halfway down her forearm, Cledwyn released her arm and murmured softly:

“Stay still.”

“Why… why?”

“You think too much. If you’re busy wondering what to do with your arms, you’ll lose focus.”

It was true. She’d thought such things before, on other nights when they’d fallen asleep together. But she hadn’t realized he knew. Her face flushed bright red as she shut her eyes tightly.

A soft laugh brushed past her ears. His large, firm hand stroked her delicate skin, gentle yet possessive.

The rustle of fabric against fabric grew faster. Between them, their ragged breaths filled the air.

Heat, urgency, and a strange, never-before-felt pleasure spread wherever he touched. Every time she thought she could anticipate his touch, he found another place, answering her silent longing perfectly.

She was astonished that such sensations could exist within her. ‘Was this really possible?’

‘Wouldn’t this make me shameful? Am I taking this too seriously?’

“Ah…”

“Do you dislike it?”

“No, I don’t… it’s not that I don’t like it, it’s just… I’m embarrassed…”

“You’re adorable… I wish you could see your own expression right now. You look like you’re enjoying it…”

“Ah…!”

Nerys gasped for breath. Even with her eyes closed, she felt dizzy. His solid body pressed against hers, so different from her own. His lips moved across her skin, his hands—wild yet patient. Everything was unfamiliar. Unfamiliar, but intoxicating.

Yet she didn’t want him to stop. The fire that always sparked within her when she was with him now burned brighter, devouring her shyness and leaving behind a single realization.

‘So this is it.’

‘This is the joy they spoke of.’

And what she felt now—being with someone who so deeply desired her happiness—was something far greater than words.

Her clothes slid up. Her stomach tightened—not from discomfort, but from wanting more. Yet a sliver of fear still lingered.

She remembered the pain of her wedding night. It hadn’t been unbearable, but it had left an unpleasant scar. The forced consummation long after her marriage, done under the watchful eyes of both families—the hurried, detached touch of a husband eager to be done, and the aching days that followed.

‘This time will be different… but will it still hurt?’

His hand, which had been caressing her thigh, slowed, sensing her tension. Nerys opened her eyes—and froze in astonishment. ‘Was it possible for a man to look like that?’

Cledwyn chuckled at her wide, startled eyes. He was beautiful—tall, well-built, with the strength of a wild creature barely restrained beneath his calm.

“Do you dislike it? Are you still afraid?”

She shook her head quietly. Her hands moved on their own, reaching for him. Cledwyn lowered himself so she could wrap her arms around his neck.

Their lips met again, urgent and searching. The kiss deepened; their bodies pressed close. The heat between them crushed every space apart, until their world was filled only with breath and motion.

It wasn’t enough. She wanted more.

“Hurry…”

The thought of pain didn’t matter. She was certain now—she needed him. She wanted to know what lay beyond this.

“Not yet…”

He whispered softly against her neck. The words were teasing, but his patience was unyielding.

He melted her slowly into him, never rushing, offering her sensations far deeper than she imagined. It was as if he wanted her to know every kind of pleasure there was.

And she realized, to her surprise, that men could be patient—if her joy meant more to them than their own.

When her throat went dry from crying out, he brought water to her lips. Whatever she desired, he gave. He awakened every hidden sense she never knew she had, until she cried out from within her soul.

And at last, clinging to his neck, she understood—there was nothing to fear.

That night, she never once said no.

(T/N: Danngggg! Even in bed, you are still a gentleman Cledwyn.)

❖ ❖ ❖

Nerys had always been an early riser. She liked walking at dawn, and years of pushing herself to sleep less had made her reluctant to stay in bed.

But that morning, she could tell from the bright sunlight that the day was already well-advanced.

Her body ached everywhere, and she found it unsurprising. After all, she had no idea how late they’d stayed awake.

“Awake?”

As she groaned and sat up, a glass of clear water appeared before her. Nerys drank it and sighed.

“What time is it…?”

“Breakfast time.”

It probably wasn’t ‘normal’ breakfast time, but she was hungry nonetheless.

Cledwyn fussed over her, bringing water, towels, and food. Even though she wasn’t ill, he insisted on feeding her spoonfuls of oatmeal, doting over her.

She didn’t refuse—she lacked the strength to, and truthfully, she liked how attentive he was.

After she finished eating, he kissed her and smiled.

“Good morning.”

“It might be a little late for that, but yes. Good morning.”

“Do you want to lie down a bit longer?”

Nerys considered her condition, then shook her head.

“I’ve had enough sleep. Did you eat already?”

“No.”

“Why not? You woke before me—you should have eaten first.”

“I felt full just watching you sleep.”

The reply caught her off guard. Her cheeks flushed crimson.

He kissed her again—once, twice, again and again—before finally pulling away and burying his face against her shoulder.

In a rare, subdued voice, he murmured, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Last night, we started talking but never finished. I got excited thinking you wanted me too. I couldn’t tell if you did… or if you just tolerated me, waiting for a chance to pass me off to someone else.”

“That’s not true.”

“But you kept pushing me away. I told you so many times that children didn’t matter. Even when we left Maindulante.”

That part left her speechless. Nerys met Cledwyn’s eyes. This confident man looked uncertain because of her own hesitation.

She asked quietly, “Cledwyn Maindulante, do you want me? Only me?”

“I do.”

The answer came before she finished speaking. Nerys smiled—not by intention, but because her heart was swelling again, pushing aside everything else inside her.

Just like this man, who never looked back.

“I regret that you deceived me,” she said softly.

“That was my fault,” he replied quietly.

“But I was stubborn too. I put my own desires above what was best for you.”

The heir… that would be resolved somehow. If it came to it, perhaps Hilbrin’s daughter, Giverta, could be named…

“You’re right. There are things I haven’t told you. Many things—some important, some not.”

“If you’re not ready, you don’t have to say it.”

“No, I want to. I’ve thought about this for a while. If I ever tell anyone, it’ll be you first.”

She wasn’t planning to reveal everything about her past—only about the power of the Jeweled Eyes. She had nearly been exposed before; telling Cledwyn would make things easier going forward.

“Oh, but I was planning to go out. Didn’t you say you had something to show me? Why don’t we talk while we look?”

As he spoke, he drew back the curtains around the bed.

Nerys nodded, dazzled by his boyish, innocent smile. She didn’t know what he meant to show her—but a little fresh air couldn’t hurt.

“Alright.”