The Duke's Unwanted Second Wife

Eilika was shocked when Damian suddenly swept her up into his arms. The transition was so abrupt that she gasped, her hands instinctively flying to his neck for balance.

Pressed against his chest, she could feel the steady, powerful rhythm of his heart, and from this vantage point, his profile seemed even more sharp and imposing. Her hold tightened as a thrill of anticipation raced through her.

"Your Grace, why are you walking in this direction?" a soft masculine voice asked, cutting through the quiet of the hallway. Eilika shifted her gaze and realized it was Damian’s personal bodyguard, who had emerged from the shadows to walk alongside them.

"Prepare two horses. We cannot go by the motorcar," Damian ordered, his voice echoing with an undeniable finality.

Without a single word of argument, the bodyguard, Maurice, ran ahead to fulfill the command. The back corridor felt endless until they finally emerged under the vast, star-speckled sky.

Maurice had already prepared the two horses by the time they arrived. Damian gently lowered Eilika to the grass, her injured ankle throbbing the moment it touched the ground.

"I’ll explain later," Damian told Maurice curtly. He turned just in time to see Eilika attempting to pull herself up onto the second horse.

"What are you doing?" Damian asked, his brow furrowing. Eilika stopped midway and turned her head toward him.

"Getting on the horse," she answered, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"You will sit with me," Damian corrected.

"But I know how to ride," Eilika argued, her pride flickering despite her pain.

"And do you want Maurice and me to be on the same horse?" Damian snickered. With one long stride, he was right in front of her. He caught her wrist and, with effortless strength, hoisted her up to mount the first horse before swinging himself up behind her.

"Duke, you don’t—" Eilika’s words were swept away as Damian snapped the reins. The horse surged forward, and they galloped into the night with Maurice trailing closely behind.

Her long, unbound hair whipped in the wind, lashing against Damian’s face.

"Your hair is in the way," Damian whispered against the roar of the wind.

Eilika hastily gathered her locks and pulled them over her shoulder to the front, her heart leaping as she felt the solid heat of his chest pressed firmly against her back. She swallowed hard, closing her eyes to steady the rush of blood to her face.

’I didn’t know she could ride,’ Damian mused silently. It struck him then that he knew almost nothing about the woman sitting before him. The only fragments he had were from his mother: that Eilika had struggled to find suitors because of the mark on her cheek, and that she possessed a natural kindness toward children.

By the time the dark silhouette of the Duke’s estate appeared, the moon was high. What would have been a swift hour by motorcar had taken much longer by horse.

As they halted, Eilika attempted to dismount, but Damian’s hands were already at her waist. He lowered her gently to the ground, his touch lingering for only a second too long.

"Thank you," Eilika murmured.

"Follow me." Damian strode ahead without looking back. Eilika offered a small, weary bow to Maurice before limping after her husband.

"I think we are quite late. Roman must be sleeping by now," Eilika said as they navigated the silent, echoing corridors of the mansion. "I—I can find my own way to my chamber. You needn’t accompany me."

Damian halted abruptly, the sudden stillness of his frame making her stop in her tracks.

"Stay quiet," he commanded.

Eilika pursed her lips, a spark of defiance lighting in her chest. As they resumed their walk, she whispered, "Didn’t you say you had no desire to act like my husband? I was merely reminding you that you needn’t perform this duty."

Damian rolled his eyes, though he remained silent until they finally reached her bedchamber.

"This was the last time I shall take you to such an event," he said, turning to face her with a gaze like flint. "You were nothing but a nuisance there."

"I did nothing but save you!" Eilika snapped, her voice trembling with suppressed emotion. "All I did was warn you that conspirators were seeking your life. If you cannot find the grace to say ’thank you,’ then say nothing at all. At the very least, stop twisting my intentions."

Damian searched her face for a long, tense moment. "You have a remarkably blunt tongue for a lady," he stated.

"It is because the Duke infuriates me! If I speak kindly, you meet me with that pathetic, cold side of yours. I have no interest in attending parties with you. Do you even know what they were saying about me? You abandoned me just to greet the Crown Prince, and then you forced me to dance!"

"What?" Damian hissed, taking a predatory step toward her. Eilika refused to retreat. "When did I force you? You could have refused. You were dying for a dance, Eilika. You’ve never had one in your life. If anything, I honored you with that moment."

Eilika’s eyes brimmed with tears, but she blinked them back, refusing to let them fall in his presence. "Leave," she choked out. "I don’t want to see your face."

"Apologize to me first," Damian demanded, his voice dropping to a dangerous level.

Eilika let out a sharp, bitter chuckle. "I will never apologize to an arrogant man like you."

Damian’s patience snapped. His hand moved like a flash, clamping around her neck, not to choke, but with a terrifying firmness that pinned her where she stood. "You do have a sharp tongue, and I hate it above all else. Tonight was a mere formality for the sake of the world. I don’t care what people say of you. You chose this life; now, you will live it."

A single tear escaped and rolled down Eilika’s cheek, disappearing into the collar of her gown. Damian released his grip and turned on his heel, storming out of the chamber and leaving a silence in his wake.

Eilika took a ragged breath, forcing herself not to crumble. Wiping her eyes, she shed her heels and crawled onto the bed, her injured ankle throbbing with a dull, rhythmic heat. She pulled back the hem of her gown and winced; the skin was already purple and badly swollen.

"My lady!" Joanna’s voice cried out as she hurried into the room. "You’ve injured your foot! How did this happen? I shall summon the physician at once!"

"Don’t be bothered, Joanna," Eilika sighed, leaning back against the pillows.

"My lady, we cannot ignore this. Please, wait for me!" Joanna insisted, darting back out to find help.

Left alone, Eilika stared at the canopy of her bed. "I can’t even curse you properly, Damian," she muttered to the empty room. "You have a son, otherwise I feel like—" Just at that moment, a voice from the doorway made her stop.