The Duke's Unwanted Second Wife

Eilika leaned forward as she retrieved the ring from the velvet-lined basket. Through the fine lace of her veil, she caught Roman’s wide, expectant eyes. She pressed her fingers to her lips and blew him a soft, silent kiss, acknowledging his pride.

"Did I walk well?" Roman whispered, his face flushed with the thrill of his duty.

"Yes, you were perfect. Everyone was stunned," Eilika replied.

Damian reached out, gently lifting the ring from the cushion. His fingers brushed against hers for a fleeting second before he stood straight. His gaze remained fixed on her, thinking about the vows they were about to exchange.

Roman, satisfied that his task was complete, gave a quick wave before turning and sprinting toward Sylvian, who stood at the edge of the aisle ready to escort him to his seat.

Eilika watched her husband-to-be, then shifted her gaze to the ring now held in his hand. A small smile touched her lips, realizing it was happening for real.

The priest’s voice was steady, echoing clearly through the hushed hall as he turned to the groom.

"Damian, do you take Eilika to be your lawfully wedded wife? Do you pledge your loyalty, your protection, and your devotion to her, through all of life’s trials and joys, from this day forward?"

Damian held Eilika’s hands in his. He didn’t glance at the crowd, nor did he look at his father or the guests. His focus was locked entirely on Eilika, his gaze soft.

"I do," he said.

Eilika felt a tightness in her chest. She remembered the months they had spent at odds, the distance he had kept, and the way he had once looked at her with suspicion.

To see him standing here now, shedding those defenses to choose her before everyone, felt too right. The priest nodded, then turned his attention toward the Duke to start the vows with him.

"I, Damian Van Kingsley, the Duke of Varos, take you, Eilika, to be my wedded wife. I pledge to you my honor and my life. I promise to love, to honor, and to shield you against all adversity. My house shall be your home, my strength your foundation, and my heart yours forevermore."

"I, Eilika Wolanski, do take you, Damian Van Kingsley, to be my wedded husband. I pledge to you my loyalty, my companionship, and my devotion. I shall be your strength in times of trial and the light within these walls, honoring you and our union before all others, for as long as we both shall live."

Damian noticed the moisture in Eilika’s eyes and realized how significant this moment was for her. He had pledged his loyalty and his life, fully aware that the true depth of their bond was something they would build together in the years to come.

"By the grace of the Supreme God," the priest announced, his voice filling the hall, "I bless this union. You are now husband and wife. You may kiss the bride."

Below the aisle, Roman tugged on Sylvian’s sleeve, his face alight with curiosity. "Will Mama and Father kiss?" he asked, craning his neck at him.

Sylvian reacted instantly, placing a broad palm over the boy’s eyes.

"Yes," Sylvian replied, holding his hand steady. "And you know children aren’t supposed to watch."

"No!!! I want to watch!" Roman held his uncle’s hand, trying to remove it.

Damian hesitated, noticing Eilika’s lowered gaze and the way she nervously bit her lip. They had yet to share a kiss; the intimacy of this moment was entirely new to her, and the thought of his touch had long been nothing more than a distant hope.

Her thoughts stalled as Damian reached out to lift her veil. As she looked up, her eyes locking with his, he leaned in and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to the center of her forehead.

"I have become yours," he whispered.

Eilika caught her breath, her heart racing, it was the answer she had been waiting for since the day she first asked him for his heart. The garden erupted into a big applause. Damian took her hand and together, they turned to acknowledge the guests.

~~~~~

As the night arrived, Eilika was taken to Damian’s room. However, he wasn’t there. She sat on the edge of the expansive bed, her fingers mindlessly tracing the intricate patterns of her lace gown.

Every passing minute fueled the knot of anxiety in her stomach.

Would he even return, or would he find an excuse to stay away? She wondered if he would ask her to leave, unable to reconcile the reality of their union with the walls he had guarded for so long.

She feared that his past, the part of him that resisted moving on, would ultimately win, leaving her standing on the threshold of a marriage that existed in name alone.

A weary yawn escaped her lips, the day’s long exhaustion finally catching up to her. Just as she turned toward the bedside table in search of water, the doors creaked open.

Eilika straightened instantly, pulling the delicate lace of her veil closer to hide her face. Damian offered an amused chuckle as he turned the key in the lock.

He shed his blazer, draping it carefully over the back of a chair, and began to unbutton his cuffs, rolling the sleeves up his forearms.

"You hardly touched your meal tonight," he murmured as he approached her. His fingers sought the edge of her veil, lifting the lace away to reveal her flushed, tired eyes. "You should change into something more comfortable," he whispered.

Eilika offered only a soft hum of agreement.

She watched him head toward the washroom, then her gaze fell upon the maroon satin nightdress laid out neatly on the bed. Gathering the fabric in her hands, she slipped quietly out of the bedchamber, seeking the aid of her maid, Joanna.

The moment she returned to the room, her breath hitched. Damian stood near the bedside, his attire drastically different; a simple silk robe hung open, leaving his chest and abdomen exposed in the soft light.

He tilted his head back, draining the last of the water from a crystal glass, the movement highlighting the strong lines of his throat.

Eilika retreated to the door, her heart hammering against her ribs, and swiftly turned the lock.

"Do you intend to stand guard by the door for the duration of the night?"

The deep rumble of his voice made her spin around. He hadn’t moved to approach her, but he was watching her with an unreadable expression. In his hands, he held a small, dark velvet box, brushing his thumb idly over the lid.