The Duke's Unwanted Second Wife

"Your hair is still quite damp," Damian noted, watching the moisture cling to her tresses. "Mine will dry in no time, but yours will take much longer. You should have one of the maids assist you."

Eilika paused, tilting her head as she gave him a pointed, playful look. "Is it so hard to just say that you want to dry my hair?" she murmured.

A small, genuine smile tugged at the corners of Damian’s mouth. "If that is what you wish, then please, sit," he said, motioning gracefully toward the velvet-cushioned chair at the vanity. "It would be my pleasure to help you."

Eilika beamed and walked past him to take her seat. As she moved, the subtle, warm scent of sandalwood drifted through the air. Damian inhaled the fragrance, finding it remarkably grounding, and caught her gaze in the mirror as he picked up a fresh towel to begin.

Damian moved with focused care, his fingers working the towel through the long strands before gently massaging her scalp.

Occasionally, the tips of his fingers brushed against her earlobes, sending a subtle thrill through her.

She snuck glances at his reflection, but he seemed entirely absorbed in his task, his expression one of quiet concentration.

Fiddling with her fingers in her lap to calm her nerves, Eilika finally spoke. "Forgive me for tiring you yesterday. I never meant to burden you with such trouble... but truthfully, I didn’t expect you to come searching for me so desperately."

Damian stopped his movements for a second, his gaze locking onto hers through the mirror.

"Why would you ever think I wouldn’t rush to find you?" he asked. "From the moment I woke, I could see the anxiety in your eyes. You weren’t yourself. I questioned Maurice, but he was bound by his word to you. What I truly never expected was for him to actually make a move against me to keep your secret."

"Please, don’t reprimand him," Eilika pleaded, her hands tightening in her lap. "I gave him no choice; I blackmailed him. He tried to stop me, more than once, but I felt I had no other way to save you at that moment."

"You chose me because you love me, don’t you?" Damian finally asked, the towel going still in his hands.

Eilika’s breath hitched. She stopped blinking, her mind racing for a safe response as the weight of his question hung in the air.

"How could you love me?" Damian continued, his voice dropping to a vulnerable rasp. "I have broken your heart so many times. From the moment you entered this palace, I did nothing but remind you of your duties. I told you to be a mother and nothing more, never my wife." He didn’t break eye contact, his reflection staring back at hers with an intensity that demanded the truth.

"I couldn’t leave you to die," Eilika explained, her voice trembling slightly. "What answers would I have given to Roman? Or to your mother? The boy has already suffered the loss of one parent. He couldn’t have survived a second."

"That is not what I wish to hear," Damian countered. He dropped the towel onto the vanity and leaned down, his icy blue gaze now fixed directly on her. "Is it so difficult to admit that you love me?" His face on her level, merely an inch away from hers.

"Yes, I do. I love you," Eilika admitted. "And I also know you don’t love me." She lowered her gaze, the vulnerability of the moment becoming too much to bear. "I—I will go now. Thank you for helping me."

She stood up, her heart aching as she prepared to walk away, but she only made it a single step before he grasped her arm.

With a sudden, swift motion, he pinned her against the edge of the dressing table, his hands gripping the wood on either side of her to trap her within his reach.

"Your Grace!" she gasped, her heart thundering against her chest like a trapped bird.

"I made you suffer in this marriage, didn’t I?" Damian asked, his voice a dangerous murmur as his eyes searched hers for every hidden hurt.

"No," Eilika whispered, her fingers curling into the fabric of her skirt as the sound of her own heartbeat filled her ears. "I do crave your love, but I must say you have always been respectful to me. You have your own trauma, Damian... you are still healing. I understand why things are the way they are."

She forced herself to hold his gaze but steady despite the overwhelming proximity of the man she had just confessed her heart to.

"You said that before too," Damian whispered, his breath warm against her skin. "I will try to be a husband to you," he added, the promise carrying a weight he hadn’t dared to voice until now.

He leaned in closer, and for a fleeting second, he felt the magnetic pull to give her the kiss she had clearly anticipated.

Yet, something, a lingering shadow of the past or perhaps a newfound fear of moving too fast, held him back. Instead, he turned his head slightly and planted a tender kiss on her cheek.

Eilika’s breath hitched as she tilted her head, watching him slowly straighten his posture. Her face burned with a sudden, deep blush.

Overwhelmed by the shift in the air, she didn’t wait for him to speak again; she turned and dashed out of the dressing area, disappearing from his sight before he could even blink.

Damian stood alone in the silence, blinking at the empty doorway. "What? Did she not like it?" he mumbled, a flicker of genuine worry crossing his face. He let out a soft sigh, running a hand through his damp hair. "For now, I can only give kisses on her cheeks."

He turned back to the mirror to finish his shirt, only to stop in his tracks. Staring back at him was a man whose own cheeks had turned a betraying shade of red. He hadn’t expected the gesture to affect him just as much as it had affected her.