Longest Dally

Astrid has been pacing a hole on the soft carpet of her chamber, thoughts running rampant in her mind as she recalled the exchange she had with her father. Her father Archduke Clermont, loves her to a fault. He would give her everything she wishes, regardless of the consequences it would involve. Archduke Clermont is that kind of parent. She was an adored child. Where did everything go wrong?

A rustling of sheets came from her massive bed, however Astrid was deep in her thoughts, making plans after plans.

"What are you going to do now, my dove?"

The golden-haired man climbs out of the wide bed, naked as the they he was born. The bed with intricate wooden poles in each sharp corner has a white sheer lace canopy to offer some sort of privacy. He sauntered towards the distressed lady who was now facing the huge window that would have been a reasonable thing to do in the morning since it provides one of the most breathtaking views around the city of Clevon.

At night, it would only offer you the brilliance of fireflies scattered in each of the city structures you see, city lights highlighting the Clevon's majestic bridge, and the light posts lining the deserted streets. At night, you wouldn't be able to see the beauty of Lumens Mountain Ranges. The mountains have a mysterious allure that entices anyone, just like the woman standing in front of the window.

Astrid turns to her lover, her longest by far although she had affairs in between. Duke Oliver Wrenthford. One of the infamous and influential persons in the House of Lords. Speaking of infamous, Astrid always chooses her men with astounding beauty, and Oliver is one of them. A perfect model for a highborn aristocrat with indubitable ancestry almost as old as Clevon itself. They are wanted by everyone, coveted.

"I want a house around the capital, Oli," An unforgiving glint shining in her eyes. The man beside her struggled to mask the protest on his handsome face. Although he is known as someone influential and powerful, he is a fool for this woman. "Château Fleur, darling. I want to reside in it for a fortnight," she turns back to the night-scape in front of her, certain of her success in the matter.

However, all Astrid got was a deafening silence snatching her attention from the city night-scape. She gazes at her silent lover, eyes scrutinizing as she watches his blue eyes skittered all over the place in an attempt to avoid her eyes.

"What is it, Oli?" She asked, voice hardening as the wait for his answer stretches longer.

"Melissa is in Chateau Fleur for an indefinite time," He slowly admitted, struggling to say the name of Duchess Wrenthford. Oliver is aware of Astrid's distaste for his wife. She would always criticize the choice of the former Duke in choosing the wife of the present Duke. It is not hidden how ordinary Melissa is, a plain beauty compared to the Duke himself. She is meek and unforgettable. She was only chosen as the Duchess of Wrenthford because of the withstanding agreement between their families.

Astrid's ethereal green eyes turned to slits, "Have her gone, Oli," she commanded, unconsciously gripping the window sill under her dainty hands. Astrid didn't want to think about the Archduke's words, but Oliver's sudden faltering and the letter she received was making her feel a sense of foreboding as the time chimes in.

"I could have it done, my dove, but I'm afraid the Archduke has me on a tight leash," he painstakingly said, carefully gauging the reaction of the woman beside him. Astrid is known as an elegant woman, nevertheless, she can be your worst nightmare if you are the receiver of her ire.

The Duke Wrenthford, slowly caresses the woman's waist, carefully placing his palm on her smooth stomach, testing her mood. Astrid might be the worst enemy one could have, but in the privacy of the chambers, sometimes in the unbeknownst eyes of the public, she can be the most fiery and experienced woman in terms of pleasure. She is unforgiving in bed, commanding.

His palm shifted its place and went for her bare shoulders. Astrid always owns one of the most scandalous undergarments there is. Sheer laces, naughty designs, and one of a kind. The ladies of the ton, the peerage, would always be in their prudent chemises. Astrid, on the other hand, would always have unprecedented contraptions on her person. It could tantalize a man's thoughts to smithereens. She's the very form of scandal and sin.

Although her shoulders were tense, Astrid did not shrug his wandering hands, a positive indication.

"What did my father say?"

Astrid's cold voice made Oliver's hands freeze on her smooth, bare shoulders. He slowly moved his hands away, precautions littering his thoughts as he selected his thoughts with care.

Satisfaction runs through Astrid's mind, recognizing the precaution her lover showed. She loves instilling fear in her men, and she finds it most delightful when they tiptoe on eggshells around her by the mere change of her voice. Of course, she kept her satisfied smile to herself, keeping her gaze on the nonexistent view in front of her.

"Never meddle if I don't want to lose my title and my lands," Oliver answered, eyes following her gaze and also ended staring at the night-scape.

The satisfaction Astrid felt was doused with ice cold water at his answer. Indeed, her father could easily do such a thing, an insignificant thing. A man like his father could reduce the likes of Oliver into nothingness. She has been enjoying the last years tremendously that she had almost forgotten how dangerous his father could be. Astrid was about to retort when she felt Oliver inhale beside her, about to speak more.

"The missive also includes you, my dove. He wants you to live your life quietly if you don't want to lose everything, and by everything, the status and the funds. Every single pence would not be given to you. Inheritance and all," he adds, walking away from her and stride towards the writing table on the corner. He procured a letter in one of his drawers, before going back to her side.

Astrid looks down at the letter with the Clermont's seal stamped on it. The golden wax reflects the light of the burning timber from the fireplace.

She silently took the letter in her hand, somewhat ashamed of the knowledge that his father knew where to address the message he wanted to deliver to her. It means the Archduke knew every single one of her affairs, every time.

She unfolded the paper and with reluctant fingers read it in a swoop, but not without absorbing the words in it. Astrid already received a letter from his father prior to this one. In the prior letter, he already disowned her. The letter in her hands was nothing but a dignity on paper. Even in his father's anger, he did not disclose her disowned status to Oliver but only hinted at it. Astrid has the stomach-turning feeling that this would be the last kindness her father would show her.

She crumpled the letter in her hands, hiding the panic in her eyes as she gazed at Oliver. "I want to reside in the Château Fleur, darling. Have your wife vacate the place by the next morning," she sweetly smiled at the hesitant man. Conflicting emotions run amok on his face as he analyses his choices.

The Duke of Wrenthford was aware of his dire consequences at the moment. If he chooses the wrong option then the Wrenthford seat could disappear from the peerage genealogy. But then again, the same man was also a fool for the seductive deity in front of him.

Also, he had a doubt the Archduke would disown his only child. Oliver knows for a fact how the Archduke loves his daughter blindingly.

A soft touch on his bare chest awakened him from his clashing thoughts, he looked down to see the teasing smile on Astrid's full lips, the Baroness Krona. She places another kiss on his chest, near the hollow point of his neck, igniting a searing fire on his loins. He is a fool, yes, a fool for this siren.

Astrid smiled handsomely, knowing she had the Duke Wrenthford under the tips of her fingers. She would stay in the Château for the meantime while tackling her choices.

The same with the Duke Wrenthford, Astrid also has doubts of her father's disownment. Her father loved her to bits and it would be impossible for it to diminish to nothing. Perhaps, her father would be appeased if she stayed low for a moment, not attending any of the ton's merriment. Maybe, the disownment was nothing but an empty threat. She could stay in Château Fleur while she enjoyed her time playing house with the Duke.

Comforted with her thoughts, she gave the Duke another heart fluttering kiss. Teasing the man's senses as they shuffled back to bed.

None of the two were aware of the possibilities in the future, choosing to stay with their jaded thoughts.

Astrid did not put into account the scandal of ruination she caused, or the Baron she left unsettled in Southern Clevon, mulling over his life and the safety of his people.

Oliver didn't think about the Duchess Wrenthford's reputation after he sent a missive to remove the residing Duchess out of the Château, a Duchess expecting the next line of the Dukedom.

None of the two mind the consequences of their actions as they venture into the world of carnal sin, over and over again.