Please Be Patient, Grand Duke

Chapter 67.2

Lia put her knees together, rubbed her reddened cheeks and looked towards the window. The snowflakes had gotten quite big. If too much snow piled up on the train tracks, the Duke’s return could be delayed.

There wouldn’t be an accident, would there?

Suddenly frightened at the thought, she shook her head. As she did, her head spun and a headache followed. It was because of the alcohol. She wasn’t used to it.

She sighed while leaning her left cheek against her knees and closed her eyes. The sound of the burning log crackling in the fireplace made her sleepy.

About to doze off for a bit, she figured she’d count to one hundred before leaving the tub.

Each time she dozed and blinked herself awake, the world outside the window became whiter, and eventually there was frost on the window. She closed her eyes thinking she’d count to one hundred again and found a shadow reflected against the window.

Lia’s eyes widened. There was someone leaning against the fireplace!

The man stared at her. Is it Claude?

“Is it a dream?”

But it was Claude for sure.

She scoffed in disbelief and washed her face.

He took off his shirt without hesitation, undid his belt, and lowered his pants. Lia didn’t avert her eyes, instead she looked directly at him.

He looked like the god of war—a picture that she had seen in a book. His kind and soft expression was the same, but his body was different. The scars that covered his torso were more than enough to show what happened these past three years.

But this must be a dream. There was no way that he could be here when he is slated to arrive tomorrow.

She heard a low tone as she smirked.

“It might be a dream,” she said aloud.

He climbed into the tub and faced her.

The water overflowed from his weight and splashed the tile floor. Lia gawked at the man sitting across from her.

His hair was a little longer than the last time she had seen him and it was wet as if he had just showered. There was a deep scar on his shoulder that hadn’t been there before. These changes made it all seem surreal.

He smiled lightly while leaning his arm against the edge of the tub.

“What are you going to do if it’s a dream?” he asked.

Lia forgot her embarrassment and tentatively stretched her hand to him as she heard his voice. Time slowed.

Her small, soft hand touched his cheek. Lia traced his sharp chin line and nose, his slightly rough lips with the tip of her fingers.

Her fingertips told her this wasn’t a lie.

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This must be real.

She couldn’t tell if she were simply tipsy from alcohol or drunk with longing.

As she got closer, Claude clenched the tub, the veins in his hands becoming visible.

Lia knelt to be close to him. His large arm wrapped tightly around her slim waist to prevent her from slipping.

“No fear and even less embarrassment,” he said teasingly. “What do you think of men, that you’re acting so fearlessly.”

She saw twinkling in his eyes and remembered that her breasts were exposed. Part of her wanted to dive into the water and hide. But the strong force wrapped around her waist kept her in place.

“I welcome it, but it’s also a torment.”

Her mind screamed to push him away, but her body wouldn’t listen. Her trembling eyes drank him in and she circled her arms around his neck saying, “I missed you, Sir.”

If it’s a dream, I hope I don’t wake up.

Tears swelled up in her eyes.

He pressed his hand softly against the back of her head, buried his lips against her neck and whispered, “Not as much as I missed you.”

The snowflakes fell silently. The only sound was their breathing.

He pulled her head gently and put his lips on hers. Their kisses were urgent and deep, their wet skin touched and tingled.

It felt surreal. Lia wondered how Claude could be so calm seeing her naked.

She got scared all of a sudden and hugged him harder. As she did, he easily stood up, lifting her with him, without ever stopping the kiss. He placed the two of them under the shower head, and pulled the golden rope.

In his great strength, her feet didn’t even touch the floor.

Water showered on them, washing away the flower petals, the perfume, leaving them smelling the same—as though they were one.

He pressed his lips into her neck, whispering, “You’re making me crazy.”

She panted in arousal and fear.

As the water continued to rain down upon them, Lia pressed down on the scar on his shoulder and looked up at him.

His eyes were red, like a vein was going to pop from them.

Then Lia heard her name being called.

“Canillia.”

It was a man’s voice.

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