Chapter 45

Angela looked truly fed up with me. She released a sigh, and I almost wanted to apologise for my stupidity. Not hers. Mine. What had the world come to?

"Cain had always fought with me over you. He's even threatened to kick me out of the Dukedom because I had the leverage of saying I was your sister", she complained.

"He must've been young and he was probably joking", I objected.

"I think thirteen is cutting it", she argued.

I raised my brows in surprise.

"Thirteen...?" I echoed.

It wasn't an old age, but I could only remember the docile and mature Cain at thirteen. He wasn't the type to be childish. Not at that age. He had even made me feel younger on many occasions.

"Gosh, as much as I loved him, he was so annoying", she complained.

There was a silence, only interrupted by her incessant complaints as I fell into thought and then spoke.

"Did Cain... Always act like that when it was about me?" I asked.

Angela gave another exaggerated sigh.

"He wouldn't let me catch a break. He only tolerated me when his mother passed because of you... Well, you began to ignore him", she glanced away nervously.

She had bugged me a lot in the past. Prying as to why I began ignoring Cain. I didn't tell her. God forbid she demanded answers from the late duke, and then we both wound up in a brothel.

"I see", I frowned.

I didn't notice.

But when I thought about it. It became glaringly obvious. The calls for me, day or night. The hugs, random or expected. How he would always chat with me when I was there to serve. To submit.

Of course, we were friends, but in front of nobles- in front of other servants, when we should've acted as we were supposed to, we were still friends. He had made it obvious.

So much that the noble girls who would visit him, hoping for an engagement would leave in a fit of anger. Throwing me a glare. Pushing me out of their way. Threatening me. But they never did it in front of him. Never in his field of view. As if they knew...

I recalled the times when I knew the moment he disliked something. I could notice the shift in his mood without a single expression changing. And when he would see my attempt to help him escape, he would smile. He would notice that I noticed.

The times he said no one understood him as much as I did. I had shrugged it off and told him that wasn't true. He had his mother, father and even Angela, but... Maybe it was.

I had always felt guilty about ignoring him, but now I felt even more suffocated. When I thought of the hurt he must've got through—losing his mother. And then a close friend.

I owed him a great deal.

"I should check up on him", I announced, breaking Angela away from her complaining, though I had missed the majority of it.

"You should! And tell him to let you visit once in a while" she wasn't done complaining, it seems.

I didn't think she would revert to her teenage hormonal phase when she got out of the house. Shouldn't puberty be done with her?

"I'll let him know" I took a deep breath to steady myself and then hugged Angela.

I let myself relax. Something I hadn't had the luxury of in a long time.

"Thank you for coming over to see me," I said, knowing full well the duke's death was just an alias—a way to get in the manor without having to be questioned. Very guests could visit the main manor under normal circumstances. It was otherwise closed off. Left for the personal use of the main family.

Though I hadn't had the luxury of visiting the other manors and estates. I knew they were more sophisticated and catered to being viewed instead of dwelled in.

"Don't mention it. Once you're done with him, meet with me in the gardens. I have something important to tell you", she smiled brightly and giggled, turning towards the doorframe to leave but not before stopping and turning back, "Take your time Isabelle. Don't rush relationships".

And then she rushed off, hair bouncing behind her.

I furrowed my brows at her in concern.

Something was different about her. Her mood keeps changing rapidly, and she somehow still seems more mature than the girl who left the manor to marry the love of her life.

"Strange", I mused as I made my way to Cain's room.

I had never once thought I walked in a pattern that could be recognised. Or breathed uniquely. But when I knocked on Cains door, he knew who I was instant.

"Isabelle?", there was a shuffling behind the door, "Come in", he finally said and I heard a slight nervousness in his voice as I pushed the door open.

I knew Cain had always preferred dark rooms. He had always made me close his curtains, only ever preferring a single strip of light. I always found it a trademark trait of his youth, and he carried it into adulthood.

The room was so dark it took a moment for me to adjust to it. I didn't see his figure and could only hear footsteps closer with each step. When I finally made out his face, it was inches from mine, and I had almost fallen over backwards.

Those red eyes glowed in the darkness. Blonde hair illuminated by the strip of light he was blocking with his back. He looked... Ethereal.

"I thought you wouldn't talk to me anymore", although he looked powerful, the words that left his mouth were vulnerable and exposed.

"What made you think that?" I asked, stunned momentarily by the beautiful man before me and then, I almost facepalmed at my stupidity.

Why else would he think that?

"It was sudden of me to propose. I should have done it properly. I could have waited until you were ready, but I was so impatient at that moment", he spoke with such regret and self-loathing. It was clear he had regretted it.

I was almost glad, but there was a pang. One I wanted to swallow away.

"It's okay", I found my hand patting his shoulder. His warmth was travelling from my arm to my face, "I was hoping to speak to you about that".

"You were?" he let out a strange purr, face suddenly excited as his hand grasped the hand on his shoulder. Not to remove it, but to... Caress it.

"Ye-Yes!" I squeaked.

His actions made my voice crack. Warmth built up in me, just like that night. His gaze not once strayed from mine as he continued to touch my hand which in turn caused a shiver to run up my spine.

"And?" he moved the hand to his cheek, pressing his face onto it. The soft cheek, sharp bits of small stubble that met my hand and then finally the occasional touch of the cupid of his lip.

I knew what I wanted to do at that moment. I knew it was evident to him too.

"I can't!" I blurted out.

His face faltered from confusion to worry.

"What do you mean?" he pressed, the hand he held now being squeezed.

"This- This isn't right. You can't force me to become a duchess just so you- you can" my face burned as I struggled to say the words, "bed me".

The grip on my hand loosened as he began to shake. I thought he was crying at first, but then he began to gasp for air and let out his laugh.

My face flushed in embarrassment.

"Why- Why are you laughing?" I hated how infectious his laugh was. I felt my lips twitch and forced them into a frown.

"You thought that was the only reason?" he finally said as he wiped a tear. His gaze filled with such intense affection as he looked at me I found it hard to keep eye contact.

"What else?"-

I didn't finish my words as his lips met mine. It wasn't hungry or desperate. It was sweet and in the moment. It was short-lived and I knew he would've continued if I had made any sign on reciprocation, but I didn't. So he pulled away and gave me an apologetic smile that didn't look apologetic at all.

"I was just so glad you weren't outright rejecting me and you looked... Beautiful", he smiled at me.

My cheeks flushed at his words, but when I recalled the beginning I felt a blow of guilt.

'Because you do that' were the silent words attached to that.

"No... Cain, I wanted to check if you were okay firstly" I cleared my throat, unable to look up at him.

"If I'm okay?..." he didn't seem entirely there. Gaze fixed on me. Eyes dazed. He snapped out of it and replied, "I'm fine. My father's death means very little to me. He had died in my heart long before mother did".

"He's still your father".

"You always say that despite your scars. You hate him too, and trust me, Isabelle, for what he made you and my mother suffer through, I hate him much more. He died a slow and painful death. Quite fitting".

His words came from a good place—a good place in a twisted heart.

I couldn't speak for a moment.

I understood him. The pain he felt because of his father—all of it. But... To still want your father dead. To... Kill him.

I shoved those feelings away.

"If you insist. But if you feel lonely or sad, call me. I'll always be by your side; I promise" I had grasped his hands, squeezing them.

A smile spread across his serious face—a twinkle in his eyes.

"Then marry me. Become my duchess and be forever by my side", he breathed the words down my neck as he lowered himself. He just placed his head on my shoulder, but it was so intimate. So... Comforting.

"I can do that as your slave. It didn't matter before. Why should it matter now?" My words were a far cry from my heart.

"Because I want people to treat you like how you deserve... What will become of a slave that is the toy of a duke? You know the answer", he raised his head, face inches from mine, but those eyes stared thoughtfully into mine.

I couldn't say anything. I knew better than to answer. He was so right and yet, so wrong.

"Cain. What happens because I'm a slave happens. That can't be changed, not as drastically as you wish. If you want to take me, do it now" I looked back at him square. Staring straight into his jewelled eyes.

He had hesitated, eyes glancing from mine to my lips. The internal conflict so clear as he reluctantly lifted a hand to my cheek. I saw a glimmer of sadness behind those eyes, just for a moment before it was gone, replaced by a feral gaze.

"I want to do terrible things to you, Isabelle", he warned, fingers sliding down my arms.

I shivered.