Chapter 61 – Morning’s Reckoning

The morning light filtered through the heavy drapes, casting golden streaks across the vast expanse of the Duke's chambers. The fire from the previous night had long since burned down to embers, leaving only a faint warmth in the air. But the true heat—undeniable, inescapable—still lingered between the two figures entwined beneath the silk sheets.

Seraphina woke slowly, her body deliciously sore, her mind drifting in that hazy space between sleep and wakefulness. A weight settled against her back—solid, warm, possessive. Adrian. His arm draped over her waist, his breath tickling the sensitive skin just behind her ear. The slow, steady rise and fall of his chest pressed against her, grounding her in the remnants of last night's passion.

She swallowed hard, keeping her eyes closed, allowing herself a single moment of indulgence. A moment where she didn't have to think about the sharp edges of their marriage, the cold reality of their arrangement.

Just warmth. Just this.

A calloused hand skimmed lazily over her waist, fingers tracing the delicate curve of her hip before splaying over her stomach. Seraphina tensed, her breath catching, but Adrian only exhaled a sleepy hum, nuzzling closer.

"You're awake," his voice was thick with sleep, a lazy rasp that sent an unbidden shiver down her spine.

Seraphina hesitated, then turned onto her back, facing him. His storm-gray eyes were still heavy with drowsiness, but they roamed over her face with unmistakable intent. He studied her as though committing every detail to memory—the way her hair tumbled over the pillows, the way her lips parted as if on the verge of speaking.

She lifted a brow. "And you're observant."

A smirk ghosted across his lips. He reached out, fingers grazing her jaw before trailing down the column of her throat. "You were watching me," he murmured, thumb tracing the hollow at the base of her neck.

Seraphina scoffed, though the sound came out breathless. "You presume too much."

"Do I?" His hand slid lower, dragging across her collarbone, lingering over the faint red marks that his mouth had left in the dark hours before dawn. Evidence of what they had done, of the hunger that had consumed them both.

Seraphina shivered, but whether from his touch or the awareness settling between them, she didn't know.

His fingers continued their slow exploration, teasing the edge of the sheet that barely covered her. A question burned in his gaze—one she wasn't sure how to answer.

"Do you regret it?" he asked, his voice softer now, edged with something almost hesitant.

Seraphina's chest tightened.

Regret?

She should. This was never supposed to happen. Their marriage had been built on strategy, not passion. And yet… last night had felt inevitable, as though they had been teetering on the edge of it since the moment she had stepped into his world.

She exhaled, reaching up to touch his face, fingers tracing the sharp line of his jaw. "No," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. "But that doesn't mean it changes anything."

His eyes darkened. "Doesn't it?"

A knock at the door shattered the moment.

Seraphina inhaled sharply, the spell breaking as reality came crashing back around them. Adrian let out a slow breath, his expression shifting into something unreadable.

"Your Grace," Cassius's voice came through the heavy wood, steady and measured. "Your carriage is ready for your trip to the palace."

Adrian's gaze flickered to Seraphina's face, searching for something, but she was already slipping from the bed, reaching for the silk robe draped over a nearby chair. She pulled it around herself with practiced ease, cinching the belt just as another knock followed.

"And for the Duchess," Cassius continued, "a message has arrived."

Seraphina stilled.

"A message?" she asked, her voice carefully neutral.

"Yes, my lady. From the Everhart estate."

A cold prickle spread down her spine.

Her father's estate.

Too long. It had been too long since she had received word from home. The silence had stretched into something foreboding, something that made her fingers tremble as she crossed the room.

She reached the door and cracked it open just enough to extend her hand. Cassius placed the sealed letter in her palm, his expression betraying nothing.

"Thank you," she murmured before shutting the door.

She turned the letter over in her hands, her pulse quickening. The wax seal bore her father's crest, its edges slightly smudged.

Adrian was watching her. She could feel the weight of his scrutiny as she stood there, unmoving.

"You look troubled," he remarked.

Seraphina forced a smirk, though it didn't quite reach her eyes. "I look as I always do."

Adrian pushed himself up, the sheets slipping lower over his waist. "A lie," he murmured, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. He studied her, his head tilting slightly. "You've barely touched the letter, but your entire body has gone rigid."

Seraphina narrowed her gaze. "Do you always analyze people the moment you wake?"

His lips twitched. "Only when they're worth analyzing."

She rolled her eyes and turned away, retreating toward the vanity. Adrian followed, his bare feet silent against the marble floor.

He came up behind her, his presence a slow-building storm. Seraphina kept her gaze on the mirror, watching as he lifted a hand, fingers tracing the silk that clung to her shoulders. His touch was featherlight, but it sent a ripple of awareness through her.

"Are you going to read it?" he murmured against her ear.

Seraphina swallowed hard. "Perhaps."

His fingers dipped beneath the robe's collar, tracing along the line of her spine. The breath hitched in her throat.

"Adrian," she warned, but it lacked any true bite.

He smirked, pressing a lingering kiss to the curve of her shoulder before murmuring, "I like when you say my name."

Her fingers curled into fists against the vanity, heat flooding through her. He was dangerous like this—not just because of the things he made her feel, but because of how effortlessly he unraveled her defenses.

Adrian's lips found the nape of her neck, his hands sliding down to her waist, pulling her back against him. "You can pretend this meant nothing," he murmured, "but you and I both know better."

Seraphina's breath came fast, uneven. Her heart hammered against her ribs, warring between reason and the undeniable pull of the man standing behind her.

But before she could speak, before she could turn and face whatever was brewing between them, she tightened her grip on the letter and stepped forward—breaking free from his hold.

"We have court," she said, keeping her voice steady. "You should dress."

For a moment, Adrian didn't move. He simply watched her, his expression unreadable, his gaze burning into her like a brand. Then, slowly, he exhaled, his smirk returning—but this time, it was laced with something deeper.

"As you wish, wife," he murmured, turning away.

Seraphina clenched her jaw, her grip tightening around the letter.

She told herself it was the message that made her pulse race.

But she knew better.

She wasn't the only one who had woken to a reckoning this morning.