Chapter 8

They had said Lucius fell from his horse and smashed his head against a large rock.

At this point, Celia was certain that more than just his memories had been damaged.

“Endure it. You’re not the only one enduring this.”

That was what Lucius had said on the night they had been forced to spend their wedding night together.

The Lucius Celia knew had little interest in physical intimacy.

People often said men weren’t very rational when it came to such matters, but Lucius had always seemed like an exception.

She had never heard rumors of him secretly dating anyone.

Unlike other men, he never brought women into his home or kept a mistress.

Even Celia, who had once been certain he must have a lover somewhere, gave up that assumption after more than a year of marriage.

He lived a rigidly structured life, leaving at fixed times and returning at fixed times.

And he openly despised the sort of disreputable men whose names even Celia had heard before.

For all his striking appearance, there was a neatness and restraint about him that, annoyingly, made her trust that judgment.

For Celia, that had been fortunate.

Lucius had made her miserable in many ways, but at least in that particular regard, he had never behaved like trash.

Though maybe he simply didn’t want to touch a woman he disliked.

Which was exactly why his current behavior was so shocking.

Unable to find words, Celia focused all her effort on controlling her expression.

“Hm? Celia.”

His voice scraped low from his throat like a hungry beast.

A deep, heavy voice that seemed to sink into her bones.

“…As if I’d ever give permission.”

Her ears rang.

Her thoughts felt bleached white.

Even after her rejection, the corners of his eyes softened.

“So we really never did things like this?”

“We… didn’t. We never did anything… anything so shameless.”

The thin summer robe did little to hide the outline of his body.

Through the loose sleeves, she could see the thick muscles of his arms and the veins beneath his skin.

“That’s strange. Maybe I was insane before I lost my memory.”

He laughed quietly.

His teeth flashed briefly as his tongue touched his lips.

“How could I have had such a beautiful wife and not kissed her?”

His gaze lingered on her.

“How could I not have desired you?”

The strength left her legs.

Her knees buckled.

A hand immediately slipped beneath her waist.

Her damp hair scattered across his chest.

Pressed against his arm, she barely managed to stay upright.

When she inhaled sharply, he flinched.

The muscles beneath his forearm tightened naturally before relaxing again.

He easily lifted her enough to straighten her bent knees.

Without even realizing she was leaning against him, Celia finally shouted:

“Why do you keep saying things like that?!”

Lucius had never treated her especially kindly.

But he had always behaved like a gentleman.

He avoided crude topics.

He maintained proper manners.

He despised vulgarity.

At the very least, he had never been the kind of man to say things like this.

As her shoulders trembled in his arms, Lucius quickly lifted her chin.

The moment he saw her face flushed red like a flower in full bloom, he smiled.

“If someone says no, I can’t force them.”

His voice was gentle.

“So I’m trying to persuade you until you feel the same way I do.”

The sash tied loosely around her waist shifted.

The robe parted slightly.

Beneath it, her flawless skin briefly became visible.

Her heartbeat seemed to leap into her throat.

“I don’t remember much.”

His gaze remained fixed on her.

“But while I was hovering between life and death, it felt like I was dreaming.”

A faint red glow lingered within his calm green eyes like cracks spreading through glass.

The normally composed face that only Celia could ever disrupt now held a quiet hunger.

He slowly lowered his eyelids.

Then opened them again.

“I kept longing for something.”

His voice grew softer.

“Something like a lake on a hot summer day.”

“When I woke up, everything was confusing. But I still searched for that one thing.”

His eyes deepened.

“And then you walked into the room.”

The hand that had carefully avoided touching beneath her robe finally moved.

“I knew immediately.”

His gaze dropped to her exposed neck and shoulders.

The dim light made them appear even more tempting.

His hand wandered near her throat and shoulder.

His fingers slid through strands of her damp hair.

Then they brushed against her skin.

A jolt ran through her.

Instinctively, Celia kicked.

Her foot struck his shin.

Lucius abruptly stopped breathing and bent forward slightly.

The hand that had nearly slipped beneath her robe froze.

Instead, he lowered his forehead onto her shoulder.

His brow rested there quietly.

His breathing gradually slowed.

For a while, neither moved.

Then, still resting against her, he tilted his head.

His face shifted slightly.

His jaw brushed against her collarbone.

Their eyes met.

Only a breath separated them.

“I’m sorry.”

His voice was low.

“My innocent wife doesn’t deserve my filthy imagination.”

His hand rose to her cheek.

His thumb brushed gently across her skin.

A soft laugh escaped him.

“For some reason…”

His gaze lingered on her face.

“I feel like you probably looked exactly like this on the first night we shared a bed.”

That was enough.

Celia shoved him away with all her strength.

She could sense him moving behind her, but ignored it and strode away quickly.

Is there anything heavy around here?

Anything dangerous?

If I hit him in the head again, maybe he’ll go back to normal.

Half out of her mind already, Celia scanned her familiar room as though she had never seen it before.

Objects blurred past her vision.

She couldn’t focus on anything.

The room felt too dark.

The farther she moved from the lantern, the more everything disappeared into shadow.

Only faint traces of light remained along the walls.

Then, relying on that weak glow, she turned her head—

And suddenly met her own reflection.

The large mirror beside the window reflected the trembling candlelight.

The fragile flame split her face in half.

Both her cheeks were burning.

Red.

Unmistakably red.

Red enough that even she couldn’t deny what it looked like.

No way.

Celia immediately turned away from the mirror.

Her lips trembled slightly.

She forced herself to breathe.

It’s just the candlelight.

That’s all.

She wasn’t flustered.

She wasn’t affected.

She simply wasn’t used to this kind of contact.

She was disgusted by Lucius touching her.

That disgust had merely shown on her face.

“Celia.”

While she struggled to compose herself, Lucius appeared behind her.

“Let me see your face.”

His arm slipped beneath hers.

Wrapping around her from behind, his arms crossed in front of her waist.

It was an absurdly intimate position.

His heartbeat seemed close enough to hear.

“I don’t remember anything.”

His voice brushed past her ear.

“So I need to fill the empty spaces with new memories.”

His chin hovered near her shoulder.

“Do you always make this expression?”

She could answer that with complete certainty.

Absolutely not.

Whatever Lucius was imagining, their marriage had been nothing more than a miserable obligation forced upon them by powerful families.

Even though it had ended in failure, she would never forget their wedding night.

That night, she had not fallen apart like this.

Surrounded by judgmental priests and family elders, Lucius had entered the bedroom.

Celia had screamed at him to stay away.

She had thrown objects at him.

One of them—a small silver cheese knife—had struck his shoulder.

The scar still remained there today.

She could see it now through the loose opening of his robe.

The only lasting trace of that night.

“Stop… stop touching me.”

She twisted away from his arms.

The fluffy slippers on her feet dragged across the floor.

Every time she retreated, he followed.

“Were we promised to each other from childhood?”

His voice remained thoughtful.

“If we’ve known each other this long and ended up married, maybe we were engaged from a young age.”

Her hair swung through the air as she stepped backward.

Lucius caught a strand.

Holding it carefully, he lowered his head.

Like a gentleman greeting a lady, he pressed a respectful kiss to the ends of her hair.

Then his hand moved again.

No longer gentlemanly.

No longer restrained.

His fingers wrapped around her arm and slowly slid upward.

“What was I like…”

His voice deepened.

“…the moment I first desired a woman I’d known for so long?”

His thumb brushed over the pale skin visible beneath her sleeve.

Then he pressed a kiss there as well.

“Did it begin innocently?”

His eyes remained fixed on her.

“Did we secretly steal kisses when no one was looking?”

“Or…”

A warm breath brushed against her skin.

“…was I the one who couldn’t endure it and desired you first, even when you knew nothing?”

The heat of his breath seemed to melt her thoughts.

The moment those desire-filled eyes settled on her, the air itself grew thick and heavy.