Chapter 38: Midnight Encounters and Unspoken Desires

The moon hung high above Hellgrave Manor, casting silver shadows across the silent halls. The servants had long retired, and only the soft crackle of torches interrupted the quiet.

Verbena couldn't sleep.

She tossed and turned in her massive bed, the silk sheets cool against her skin, but her mind was too tangled to rest. Tomorrow — no, today — was the Spring Banquet. The first official event where she would stand beside Theodore not just as his wife, but as the Duchess of Hellgrave.

The weight of that title pressed down on her like a boulder.

Would the nobles sneer at her, a nobody who came from nowhere? Would the Crown Prince try to toy with her, or worse, use her as a pawn to provoke Theodore?

And then there was the dress — crimson and bold — as if she was declaring war just by showing up.

She sighed and slipped out of bed, wrapping a dark shawl around her shoulders. Maybe a walk would clear her mind.

The halls were eerily beautiful at night. Moonlight spilled through the tall windows, illuminating the marble floors and tapestries depicting long-forgotten Hellgrave battles. Verbena trailed her fingers along the cold stone walls, her steps light and soundless.

And then she heard it — footsteps, slow and deliberate.

She froze, pressing herself against the wall. The footsteps grew closer, and just as she was about to bolt back to her room, a familiar voice echoed through the corridor.

"Planning to haunt the hallways like a ghost, my dear wife?"

Theodore.

Of course it was him. Who else walked these halls like they owned the night itself?

Verbena straightened her spine and stepped into view. "Couldn't sleep," she said simply.

Theodore was dressed far too casually for a duke — loose white shirt unbuttoned at the collar, dark slacks, and bare feet against the cold floor. His hair was slightly damp, as if he'd just washed his face.

"Too nervous about the banquet?" he asked, eyes glinting with amusement.

"Why would I be nervous?" She lifted her chin. "I'm only about to walk into a den full of backstabbing nobles, my husband's enemies, and a Crown Prince with suspicious motives."

Theodore leaned against the wall, arms crossed. "Sounds fun when you say it like that."

Verbena rolled her eyes, but when she stepped past him, his hand shot out, catching her wrist gently.

"What if…" he began, voice quieter, "you didn't have to face them alone?"

Her heart stuttered, caught off guard by the sudden warmth in his tone.

"You're my husband," she said, trying to sound unaffected. "Of course I'm not alone."

He shook his head. "No, Verbena. I mean really not alone. Not just for appearances or some convenient alliance."

The air grew heavier between them, tension stretching taut like a bowstring.

Verbena swallowed hard. "Why are you suddenly saying this?"

Theodore's thumb brushed against the back of her hand, a touch so light it felt accidental. "Because lately…you've been more dangerous than any of my enemies."

Her pulse pounded in her ears. "Me? Dangerous?"

"Yes." His gaze dipped briefly to her lips before snapping back up to her eyes. "Because you're starting to make me forget why I built these walls in the first place."

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Then Verbena did the one thing she knew best — deflect.

"Well, if you're that distracted, I should use it to my advantage at the banquet," she teased, though her voice shook slightly. "Maybe I'll seduce one of your enemies and cause a scandal."

Theodore's smile was pure sin. "If you dare, I'll drag you out of that ballroom and punish you properly."

Heat flared up her neck, and before her imagination could run wild, she snatched her hand back.

"Goodnight, Your Grace," she muttered, spinning on her heel.

"Sweet dreams, my dangerous wife," he called after her.

She hurried back to her room, heart hammering like a war drum.

Dangerous, he called her.

But the real danger was the way her heart no longer saw him as her enemy.

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End of chapter