Fated Hearts: Reborn to be His Duchess

Chapter 35: Chapter 35: A False Conclusion

For a long moment, Cassiel said nothing.

But the warmth that had filled his eyes moments earlier vanished beneath a cool, unreadable calm.

Elysia’s heart slowly sank.

There it was.

The answer she had expected all along.

After all, this marriage had never been his choice.

She had married him while he lay unconscious.

Everyone knew Cassiel carried another woman in his heart.

A woman he had loved for years.

Perhaps he had tolerated Elysia because he pitied her.

Perhaps he had been grateful for her care.

But that did not mean he wanted her.

And now she had overstepped.

Just as she once had with Vaelen.

Cassiel finally spoke.

His voice was low.

"Then leave."

The words struck like ice.

Elysia’s fingers tightened.

A dull ache settled in her chest.

Of course.

How foolish.

She slowly withdrew her hand.

"Then..."

Her voice was barely audible.

"I’ll leave you alone."

Cassiel’s jaw tightened.

He looked away.

"I can manage."

The response only confirmed what she already believed.

Pride.

Dignity.

A wounded man’s stubborn refusal to accept help.

It reminded her of her father and brothers after returning from battle.

Her eldest brother had once continued training despite a fractured shoulder.

Another had learned to write with his opposite hand after an injury.

None of them liked being pitied.

None of them liked appearing weak.

Cassiel was no different.

Still, she couldn’t bring herself to abandon him entirely.

"I’ll wait behind the screen," she said quietly.

"If you need anything, just call."

A noncommittal grunt answered her.

Nothing more.

Elysia forced a smile.

Then carried a small stool behind the screen and sat down.

Soft sounds drifted through the room.

The rustle of fabric.

The creak of the wheelchair.

The faint splash of water.

Elysia stared at the floor.

Determined not to listen.

Determined not to imagine anything.

Unfortunately, her thoughts wandered elsewhere.

When will he ask for an annulment?

The question surfaced uninvited.

If the woman he truly loves returns...

Surely he will want his freedom.

And when that day comes...

What will become of me?

Without Draevenor Manor, she would need another plan.

A new future.

A new purpose.

Perhaps she could return to her aunt’s tavern.

Perhaps she could open a pastry shop herself.

The possibilities felt both frightening and strangely comforting.

Behind the screen, Cassiel sat motionless in the steaming water.

His gaze rested on the faint silhouette visible through the fabric divider.

Elysia sat curled upon the little stool.

Elbows resting on her knees.

Chin propped in her hands.

Small.

Quiet.

Almost lonely.

His thoughts drifted back to her question.

Would you find this disgusting?

The more he considered it, the less he liked it.

Did she think he found her disgusting?

Or did she find him disgusting?

Or perhaps...

Did she simply hate the idea of intimacy itself?

Would she feel the same if the man sitting here were Vaelen?

The thought immediately soured his mood.

Cassiel frowned.

The water suddenly seemed less warm.

Time passed.

Neither spoke.

Eventually, Elysia noticed the room growing quieter.

Far too quiet.

She lifted her head.

"My lord?"

No answer.

Concern flickered through her chest.

"Cassiel?"

Still nothing.

A sudden chill swept through her.

Had he fainted?

Had he exhausted himself?

Panic immediately took hold.

She jumped to her feet and hurried around the screen.

Water had splashed across part of the floor.

Normally she would have noticed but her panic overtook common sense.

Her injured knee buckled slightly.

Her foot slipped.

And suddenly she was falling.

"Ah—!"

Instinctively, she squeezed her eyes shut.

Bracing for the sharp impact of wood.

Instead—

Splash!

Water erupted around her.

A powerful arm wrapped around her waist.

Another hand caught her wrist.

The pain never came.

For one dizzying moment, Elysia found herself pressed against something warm and solid.

Her heart nearly stopped.

She instinctively tried to open her eyes.

A large hand immediately covered them.

Cassiel’s voice sounded directly above her.

Low.

Steady.

"I’m not dressed."

Elysia froze.

"Keep your eyes closed."

Heat rushed into her cheeks.

"Alright."

She obediently squeezed them shut.

The hand remained over her eyes.

Neither moved.

Neither spoke.

The only sound was the gentle ripple of disturbed water.

Cassiel stared down at the woman half-curled against him.

Her lashes fluttered nervously against his palm.

The sensation was unexpectedly distracting.

His throat tightened.

After several seconds, he exhaled slowly.

"Wait for me outside."

Elysia hesitated.

"Leave you alone?"

Cassiel closed his eyes briefly.

Getting out of the tub.

Drying off.

Dressing.

Managing the wheelchair.

None of it would be simple.

And she knew it.

"I’m not an invalid."

The words came out sharper than intended.

Elysia immediately fell silent.

Understanding dawned in her eyes.

She remembered her brother.

The endless pity after his injuries.

The frustration.

The resentment.

The humiliation.

Suddenly, Cassiel’s reaction made perfect sense.

"Alright," she said softly.

"I understand."

Carefully, she tried to steady herself.

Still blind beneath his hand, she reached out.

Unfortunately, she missed the edge of the tub entirely.

Instead, her fingers wrapped around Cassiel’s arm.

Hard muscle shifted beneath her touch.

Strong.

Warm.

Solid.

Elysia’s breath caught.

For a brief moment, neither moved.

Then she snatched her hand away as though burned.

And a second later, she fled the bathing chamber.

Outside, Elysia sat down heavily in the nearest chair.

Her face felt unbearably warm.

She stared at her hand.

The same hand that had grabbed his arm.

The memory lingered.

Embarrassingly so.

If she were being honest...

It had felt rather nice.

"Gods above," she muttered.

"What is wrong with me?"

Several minutes later, the sound of wooden wheels echoed through the room.

Elysia immediately looked up.

Cassiel emerged from the bathing chamber fully dressed.

His dark hair remained slightly damp.

His expression was composed.

Cool.

Almost severe.

The very image of the Duke of Draevenor.

No one looking at him now would guess what had happened moments earlier.

Cassiel stopped in front of her.

Their eyes met.

For a brief moment, neither spoke.

Then Cassiel’s gaze lowered slightly.

To the hand still resting in her lap.

And the corner of his mouth twitched almost imperceptibly.

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