Chapter 86: Do You Still Love Him

Morning light filtered softly through the curtains, gilding the edges of the room in a gentle glow. Evelyn stirred first, her body deliciously sore and warm where it was nestled against Nathaniel's. Sheets were tangled around their legs, and one of his hands still rested possessively at her waist as if he couldn't bear to let her slip away.

She let her fingers trail idly across his chest, watching the slow rise and fall as he slept. Memories of the night before made her cheeks heat a vivid reel of hands and whispered pleas, his mouth on her skin, the way his eyes had darkened as she moved against him. A smile pulled at her lips as she brushed a stray lock of dark hair from his brow.

As though sensing her gaze, Nathaniel's eyes opened, still hooded with sleep. The deep blue of them was warm, almost sleepy, but threaded with a lingering heat that sent a little shiver down her spine.

"Good morning," he murmured, voice husky as his arm tightened to draw her closer.

"Good morning," she replied softly, leaning up to kiss his chin. "Did you sleep well, Your Grace?"

He made a quiet, satisfied sound in his throat. "With you," his lips brushed the crown of her head, "I slept better than I ever have."

That admission sent a flush of happiness through her chest. She shifted a little, fitting herself into his embrace more snugly. The scent of him and the softness of his hands rubbing her back felt so safe after the wild, passionate intensity of the night before.

She felt sore, spent and sensitized. And yet… she didn't want to move. Not because of exhaustion though her limbs felt like silk pulled too tightly but because of the shift in the air.

Nathaniel's thumb brushed her collarbone.

"I didn't frighten you," he said, voice low, unreadable.

She blinked slowly. "No."

"But you're quiet."He said.

She turned her head to face him. The darkness cloaked his expression, but his eyes shone in the faint light. Not with victory. Not with triumph.

With concern.

And that startled her more than any bruising kiss ever could.

"I don't know what to say," she admitted, her voice barely more than a whisper. "I've never… felt like that. Or… been seen like that."

He touched her cheek. "Most men are not interested in seeing women. They're interested in owning them. Breaking them."

Evelyn looked away. "And what are you?"

Nathaniel's hand stilled. "I don't want a woman who bends because she's afraid. I want a woman who bends because she chooses to trust me."

She swallowed hard.

"You keep talking about control," she murmured. "But it doesn't feel like I'm losing mine. It feels like you're giving it back to me on your terms."

His fingers threaded through hers on the bed. "Because you're not just mine, Evelyn. I want to be yours too."

That disarmed her completely.

She stared at him, this cold, enigmatic man with the whisper of cruelty beneath his charm and for the first time, she saw not a Duke, not a shadowed husband, not a man from whispered ball gossip… but a person. A complicated, lonely man who had learned to love through dominance.

And she didn't know how to feel about that.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she whispered.

Nathaniel leaned in, kissed her slowly, deeply, like an answer rather than a question. "Then let me teach you."

She closed her eyes, letting the kiss pull her under again. But just as their lips parted, a knock shattered the stillness.

He stiffened immediately.

She blinked, dazed. "What...?"

Another knock, louder.

Nathaniel cursed softly and rose, wrapping a dressing gown around himself. Evelyn pulled the sheets higher over her chest, heart hammering. She wasn't prepared to face anyone not like this, not now.

The door creaked open. Nathaniel's voice was low and sharp.

"What is it?" Nathaniel asked, irritated.

"I... I'm sorry to disturb you, Your Grace. But a parcel was just delivered. Urgent, from London." Mrs. Carroway

There was a pause.

"From whom?"

"From Red Robin"

Evelyn's stomach flipped. Her eyes widened in shock.

She sat bolt upright in the bed.

Nathaniel's eyes met hers across the room. There was no rage, no accusation just an eerie calm as he turned back to the Housekeeper.

"Leave it on the writing desk. You may go."

The door closed.

Silence.

Evelyn's breath came shallow. She felt like the room had tilted.

Nathaniel didn't look at her as he walked to the desk and picked up the envelope. It was sealed in familiar red wax. Her throat tightened. Her name was written on it in Julian's handwriting.

Nathaniel turned the letter over slowly in his hand, then faced her.

"Who is Mr Red Robin, Evelyn?"

Evelyn stared at the letter in Nathaniel's hand as though it were laced with poison.

Julian Hartmoor.

His name echoed in her bones like a forgotten song, once sweet, now jagged. She pulled the sheet around her, rising to sit upright against the headboard. Her heart galloped, not from fear but guilt. Anticipation. Something between both.

Nathaniel stood beside the writing desk, robes hanging loosely from his shoulders, and regarded her not with rage but quiet calculation.

"Well?" he asked. "I assume I don't need to open this to get the truth."

She wanted to speak. Truly. But her mouth refused. Her fingers clutched the linen tighter.

He walked toward her, barefoot, silent. The envelope swung from his fingers like a blade.

"Mr Red Robin," he repeated, slower this time. "Is he that man?"

Evelyn nodded.

Nathaniel exhaled. A long, slow breath, more like steam than air. "The one you almost married?"

"No," she said quickly. "It wasn't like that."

"Then what was it like?", he asked coldly. His expression hardened. Before he chose her to he his duchess, he already knew she was once engaged to a young man but it fell through.

Evelyn's fingers trembled. "He was… my friend. And then more than that. It was years ago, Nathaniel. Before everything fell apart." She explained, her voice filled with urgency.

"Before your father lost his fortune." He arched an eyebrow.

"Yes."

He dropped the envelope on the bed between them.

"Do you still love him?"

That question struck deep. Not because she knew the answer. But because she didn't.

Evelyn looked away. "I don't know."

Nathaniel's silence was more frightening than anger.

She dared to meet his gaze. "Do you want me to lie?"

"I want to know what game we're playing."

"I'm not playing anything."

"And yet here you are," he said, voice edged. "In my bed. Wearing my ring. While another man sends you letters by courier in the middle of the night."

She flinched. "I didn't ask him to write."

"But you didn't tell me about him, either."

His hands braced on the footboard. "You want honesty, Evelyn? I have no patience for ghosts in my home. If he's a memory, bury him. If he's a threat, I'll burn him to ash."

"You can't threaten him," she said sharply, rising from the bed, the sheet slipping from her shoulder.

Nathaniel's eyes dropped, and for a moment, the heat returned. The room bristled with energy, that dangerous intimacy they had barely just begun to explore.

"I can and I will," he said, lower now. "Because you're mine. And I won't share."

The possessiveness in his voice lit something wild and conflicted inside her.

"I'm not a piece of property," she whispered.

"No," he agreed. "But you're my woman."

He stepped forward. Evelyn didn't back away.

"I know how to touch you until you forget his name," he murmured.

Her breath caught.

"I know how to take you so deep into yourself that you'll forget there was ever a life before this bed."

Her legs weakened.

"And yet," he added, cold again, "I will not be a fool."

She drew in a sharp breath. "Then don't act like one."

That stopped him.

She snatched the letter from the bed and held it out.

"Here," she said. "Open it."

He narrowed his eyes.

"If you think I have something to hide, read it. Then decide if I'm worth trusting."

For a long, electric second, they stood there. Her arm outstretched. His gaze burning into hers.

Then, slowly, Nathaniel took the letter.

The wax broke with a soft crack. The parchment unfolded.

His eyes moved left to right. Once. Twice.

Evelyn waited, palms sweating.

Finally, he lowered the page. "He wants to see you."

She swallowed.

Nathaniel handed it back. "But I won't forbid it."

Her eyes widened.

"I told you," he said. "I won't make you bend unless you choose to."

Tears burned behind her eyes. Not because of Julian. But because she hadn't expected mercy from the man she fearedand loved in equal measure.

"Thank you," she whispered.

Nathaniel stepped closer, fingers grazing her jaw. "Just know, Evelyn… if you go to him, I will not chase you."

Her heart pounded.

"But if you stay," he said, lips brushing hers, "you'll never want to leave again."

And with that, he turned, robes sweeping behind him, and left her standing in the candlelit room letter in hand, heart torn in two.