Passion and Confession

James set the tray aside and approached the bed with quiet, deliberate steps. Bisera felt a tremor course through her body, partly from the lingering aches of her injuries, partly from the unspoken tension building in the room. Something in his eyes—warm, determined—sent tiny jolts of anticipation skittering over her skin.

She braced herself, unsure if she should speak first, but her voice remained lodged in her throat. She was still painfully aware of how high her tunic rode on her thighs and how very exposed she felt. Her tunic, though simple, did little to hide her tall, toned figure; her soft blonde hair framed her delicate facial features. The flush in her cheeks deepened, an odd mix of embarrassment and stirring desire, made all the more poignant by her ongoing recovery. The ache in her left shoulder reminded her she was alive.

He drew close enough that she could feel the heat radiating from him. Slowly, carefully, he placed one hand on the bed beside her, leaning in just enough to envelop her in his presence without boxing her in. Dressed in a simple white shirt and jeans, James's modern attire contrasted starkly with Bisera's tunic, yet it only highlighted his muscular build.

"Bisera," he said, voice subdued yet steady, "thank you for saving my life. I wouldn't have been here without you."

Her breath caught, and a flicker of apprehension surged. Spirit, grant me composure, she prayed, trying not to fixate on how she could sense every gentle rise and fall of his chest. But James's resolve was clear. He bent forward in a small, reassuring motion and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, taking care not to jostle her bandaged wounds. The careful support of his arm made her heart pound faster.

"I've never felt… love like this," he began, each word taut with sincerity. "Not until you. My life—before all this—was comfortable, financially secure. I never lacked anything. In fact, I prided myself on having money. It gave me confidence, made me think I could have almost anyone I wanted, that relationships were just… there for the taking."

Bisera's gaze flickered with curiosity and a trace of unease. She reminded herself to breathe, feeling James's pulse close to hers. He continued, voice quiet and strained.

"It turns out wealth doesn't mean a thing when you're alone at the end of the day," he said, tracing his free hand lightly over the folds of the blanket. "I couldn't handle commitment—I guess I was too comfortable with the idea of everything being… transactional. Before I met you, I did not believe that love still exist in our day and age."

She swallowed, her heart twisting for him, while her body hummed from his nearness. Suddenly, she forgot all the questions she had earlier—the questions about how she got here, where this place was, and how he felt about Adelais, and more.

James exhaled shakily. "Then… you. Bisera, you risked your life to shield me. I never experienced this kind of… devotion. You truly cared about me." His eyes glimmered with unspoken gratitude. "I never knew what being cared for was until you showed me."

Her face heated more, an intimate warmth pooling in her belly despite the soreness of her muscles. She was still conscious that she'd recently finished her monthly bleeding—her body felt tender, yet newly awakened, pulsing with a quiet longing she had always pushed aside. Guilt and self-consciousness warred within her devout heart, but the irresistible draw toward him tugged her forward.

James brushed the back of his hand against her cheek, and she nearly jolted at his gentle touch. "Of course, you might see me as just a dear comrade, and maybe what you did was common in your world," he murmured, "but to me, it's precious, and it's good enough. Would you… give me a chance to… what's the word… to win your hand?"

She closed her eyes, letting his presence calm some of her anxiety. Still, a new worry gnawed at her mind—one that made her bite her lip as she fought to speak. Somewhere, deeper down, she recalled all the chaos that had defined her life as a warrior noblewoman in Vakeria. She recalled her father, Duke Boris, a man fierce and proud who had always told her that men would fear a woman with martial strength. That fear would easily turn into attempts to subjugate her when in a relationship. Now, in James's embrace, she found a man who showed no sign of that. Could it be real?

He caught the flicker of uncertainty in her expression. "Bisera?" he asked gently. "Are you all right? It's totally fine if… you don't feel the same. You are still my lifesaver."

She drew a shaky breath. "James… I am not your ordinary lady…" She hesitated, twisting the blanket in her fingers. "My duties might make it hard for me to… to be a good wife." Her cheeks flared at her own words, but she knew she had to be honest with James no matter how much she wanted to keep silent. "Please think twice before professing your love for me. And… and… if you still want to take my hand in marriage, then… be ready to make a vow on our wedding that you will allow my duty and loyalty to the Vakerian Empire and the Emperor to take precedence over my duty as a wife to you." Bisera was practically shaking by the time she finished uttering those words. Her heart filled with fear. She did not know how James would react. She really wanted him to say yes, but realistically she expected him to balk at such requests.

Surprise flashed across James's face. "Your duty as a wife?" James blinked. Then, his face blushed as certain images started filling his mind.

Noticing James's reaction, Bisera's face went red as well, realizing what he must have been thinking. She then shyly clarified, "Not just the … conjugal duty, but the duty of obedience." Her head tilted slightly as she couldn't manage to stare into James's eyes while she spoke those words.

He responded by gently pulling her closer, his breath fanning across her hair. "Bisera, we will be equal partners in marriage. I don't expect you to subjugate yourself to me. As for your loyalty to the empire, I respect that you are a dutiful and responsible person; do what you must, just don't be too extreme." Then, to her surprise, James pressed a soft kiss to her temple, and the warmth of his body pressed intimately against hers. She let out a trembling exhale, her heart hammering with an odd mix of security and rising desire.

The moment hovered on a precipice, tension blossoming into a heady rush. She felt her body respond: a flutter low in her belly, a hitch in her breath as the pain of her wounds faded beneath the closeness. James, too, seemed overwhelmed by the sudden depth of emotion crackling between them. Carefully, his arms slid around her waist, and she found herself tilted back against the bed's plush pillows, still mindful of her bandaged shoulder but craving more of his warmth.

Then his hand traced featherlight patterns up her side, and a wave of molten yearning nearly robbed her of thought. Her breath turned shallow; she couldn't deny the pulse of longing surging through her veins. Her lips parted, caught between wanting to draw him closer and the nervous voice in her mind demanding caution. This must be a dream, Bisera thought. There is no way a man could accept her demands. Yet here, in James's arms, she felt truly seen as a woman, and the sensation thrilled her as much as it frightened her. She really did not want to wake up.

Suddenly, Bisera's devout upbringing wrested control. She stiffened, cheeks flaming, and pressed her palms to his chest. "Stop," she whispered, voice trembling. "I—I can't… we're not wed, and I don't want us to sin." Then, reflexively, Bisera pulled James close and tightly embraced him while whispering in his ear, "I want to spend an eternity with you, and I am not about to give that up for just a moment of carnal pleasure."

A flush of color tinged James's own face, but he immediately eased back, still cradling her in a protective hold. "Bisera," he said softly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to push you." The sincerity in his eyes shone, and her face went incredibly red as she realized she had revealed far more than she intended.

She swallowed, her heart still pounding. "Thank you," she managed, voice quivering. "I just—Spirit help me—I was afraid I wouldn't be able to stop." Her blush deepened to a near-feverish red as she mentally chided herself for blurting out embarrassing admissions. She bowed her head, mortified.

James caught her chin, tilting her gaze up to his. "I promise I won't let you do anything you'll regret. I—" He paused, as though a fierce conviction rose unbidden inside him. "I'll wed you, Bisera."

Her eyes widened, emotion crashing through her. James was equally surprised by his own words. The idea of marriage had terrified him—he used to withdraw whenever that topic was brought up in his previous relationships. Yet here he was, being the one proposing. She searched his expression, finding a mixture of amazement and resolve. "You… you truly want that?" she whispered.

He nodded, though a tremor of surprise at his own words lingered in his voice. "I won't run from my feelings. Not anymore." Gently, he caressed her bandaged shoulder, his gaze filled with concern and devotion. "I want you. I want it to be right, by your faith and by your standards. I've been scared of marriage my whole life, but with you, I'm not."

Bisera's chest felt too tight for breath. The swirl of relief, incredulity, and awakening hope was dizzying. He wants me? Me, the lady that every Vakerian nobleman found intimidating? She tried to speak, but the words stuck in her throat. A flutter of gratitude for the Universal Spirit rippled through her, for bringing James here.

Yet the sense of practicality that came with her command flared: her men still needed her in battle, and a general risking pregnancy on campaign threatened her leadership in countless ways. Her cheeks flamed at the thought of motherhood, the concept alone stirring an unsettling warmth low in her belly. She swallowed.

"I… I need time," she said quietly, forcing herself to meet his gaze. "Not because I doubt your heart, but the war—my position—it would be disastrous if I became pregnant now. My men need a stable leader, and… I can't jeopardize that."

James's eyes flickered with understanding. But she saw, too, a sudden flush coloring his cheeks at the mention of pregnancy. He's imagining it—us. The same vision tugged at her own heart, inciting a confused tangle of physical heat and longing. Her stomach fluttered with raw, undeniable excitement even as her mind insisted on caution.

He exhaled, hands pressing gently against her sides, the warmth of his fingers reminding her of that inescapable closeness. "I understand," he murmured, though his voice wavered slightly—both at the knowledge of war and the realization that the insinuation of her bearing his child stirred a desire he wasn't sure how to contain. "We'll wait… as long as we need to. I don't want to endanger your command, or your honor."

She let out a shaky laugh, half embarrassment, half longing. "I'm sorry," she whispered, tears pricking at her eyes again. "This is… it's a lot. But I—I appreciate you. Truly. And I don't regret anything that happened. I'd take that arrow for you all over again."

James's hold around her tightened with renewed tenderness. "And I'd do anything to make sure you never have to." His voice caught, and he pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. "You and I, we'll figure this out. I'll stand by your side until the end."

A tear escaped her eye, but she smiled through it, trying to calm the swirl of emotions heightened by the very notion of them creating life together someday. Slowly, she leaned in, letting their cheeks brush, the tender contact more precious than any kiss she had ever experienced in her life. The hush between them bristled with quiet joy and an undercurrent of yearning.

At last, Bisera pulled back slightly, her heart still racing. James gently helped her fully lie down, mindful of her bandaged shoulder and back, and she cupped his cheek, letting herself embrace the closeness while maintaining the boundary that her faith and her duty demanded.

Carefully, James helped adjust her position so her injuries wouldn't pain her. "If you like… we can get more comfortable," he offered. "Let you breathe a moment."

She exhaled, giving a small nod. Gently, he rearranged the pillows behind her, mindful of the shallow bruising around her ribs and the way the bandages crisscrossed her back. Every time he touched her, a soft current of warmth spread through her.

Her tall, athletic figure had always been the subject of scrutiny among the Vakerian nobility—too tall, too strong, some whispered. But James gazed at her now with unguarded appreciation in his eyes. He saw no unwomanly flaw, no reason to fear her skill with a sword. Instead, he seemed entranced, as though he couldn't quite believe she existed.

She tried to relax into the pillows, but the roiling mixture of relief and self-conscious desire made her pulse unsteady. "I… I still can't believe you accept my requirements," she whispered, turning her face slightly away. "All my life, I thought men preferred delicate ladies."

A fond smile curved James's mouth. He hesitated before lifting a hand to gently stroke the side of her face—a light, reverent motion that made her shiver. "Bisera, I… I'm half convinced I'm dreaming too. Before you, I thought love was a legend. I viewed marriage as a cage used by women to tie down successful men or by men to tie down beautiful women. And I thought love was the lie that they created to make successful men and beautiful women willingly agree to marriage. However, after our time together, I realized that there is such a thing as the right person. And you are the right person for me."

Her throat tightened at the raw honesty in his voice. James was a man from another world, one who'd grown up seeing unhappy marriages tear families apart. That fear had kept him from ever wanting to commit. Now he sat on the edge of this bed, quietly vowing that he'd set those fears aside for Bisera. It felt so unreal for James.

Bisera pursed her lips, remembering how she'd once believed she would die unmarried, childless, because the Emperor was too wary of letting someone as powerful as her become subservient to any major noble house. She had resigned herself to a warrior's life, carrying no illusions about gentle happiness or cozy family scenes. But in James, she'd found someone who didn't want to use her or tame her.

Soon, emotions swelled in Bisera's chest: gratitude toward the Universal Spirit for leading him here, love for the gentle soul who gazed at her with such acceptance, and desire that thrummed in her veins, reminding her how easy it would be to tumble into deeper intimacy if not for her fear of losing him in the afterlife.

"James, I promise you, once this war is over, we will be properly married. And we shall have many children together. If there is lasting peace, I could strive to bear you seven or eight children. We will become a big happy family," Bisera said.

James's own cheeks colored at the mention of children. The intensity in his gaze flickered momentarily with both excitement and a twinge of anxiety. "Children… I—I never thought about that," he admitted, voice catching. A sense of anxiety swelled up within him. Seven or eight! Had these words been uttered by any other woman, James would have fainted on the spot. A half-wry, half-hopeful smile tugged at his mouth. "I'd rather spare you the unnecessary pain."

She gave a shaky laugh, tears gathering at the corners of her eyes. "I want… many children, actually. I don't mind the pain. The day I realized you were different, I dreamed of it, though I never told anyone. Maybe… six or seven?" She cast her gaze downward, immediately aware of how brazen that sounded. "Sorry, I… I speak too freely."

James's eyes widened, a flash of near-panic crossing his features. "Six or seven…" He swallowed, momentarily overwhelmed by visions of a household teeming with small, bright-eyed babies. "That's… you see, I'd rather you get to pursue your dreams and focus on your duty to the empire. The empire and the people need you." A tremulous chuckle escaped him. "If you really want, one or two is good enough."

Bisera caught the note of playful dread in his voice and was slightly confused. But a sweet sense of gratitude washed over her at the realization that he placed her duty to the empire and her soldiers first. He truly supports me, she thought. She squeezed his hand, tenderly tracing the shape of his knuckles. "We'll figure it out," she agreed, her voice warm.

She paused, a flicker of anxiety crossing her face. "Though… typically, the man would ask my father for my hand in marriage, if we follow the custom."

James frowned in thoughtful concern. "What if your father has different ideas? I'm just… an ordinary guy from another world. I can conjure some items, but… I'm not exactly a great noble or anything. Wouldn't he want you to wed someone from a powerful house?"

"He used to," Bisera admitted softly. "But then he realized that they just wanted to turn me into a pawn to challenge the Emperor. And the Emperor himself is wary of me marrying some powerful noble who might harness my command. So… ironically, you might be ideal, since you don't belong to any Vakerian house. You don't hunger for political gain. Father will be thrilled to see a man who genuinely supports me. Truly."

James nodded, a flicker of relief mingling with lingering nerves. "Then I'll approach him, do everything by the book. I promise I'll show him that… that I value you for who you are."

A soft smile curved her lips. He's worried, yet so determined. "…"

Suddenly, Bisera remembered, and she asked James how she had gotten here. The last thing she remembered was passing out after the epic battle. And where was here? And where was the rest of the army? She had been so captivated by James, she had forgotten about her questions from earlier.

James answered with a thoughtful sigh, shifting his weight slightly. "It's a long story," he said, voice trailing off as he studied her anxious eyes.