Chapter 161

"Thank you for everything you have done for me. For your kindness and for making me feel that I belonged."

Theodore held her with the affection of a father. "You need not thank me, Cassandra. You have always been dear to us, and marriage will not change that. You have a husband now, and a home of your own, but you will always be welcome with us. Do not make yourself a stranger."

She gave a tearful laugh against his shoulder before stepping back. Adrian was waiting for her, and the sight of him brought another rush of feeling she had barely managed to contain.

She went straight into his arms.

"I don’t know what I would have done without you," she told him. "You are one of the best men I have ever known, Adrian, and I am so fortunate to have you in my life."

Adrian’s arms tightened around her. "And I am fortunate to have you in mine. Married or not, you are not getting rid of me so easily. I expect you to visit, and I expect you to continue causing trouble whenever you find it necessary."

Cassandra laughed through her tears, but when she drew back, she noticed that his eyes were suspiciously wet as well. The sight only made her love him more.

"I shall miss living with you," she whispered.

"I shall miss you too."

One by one, the royals climbed into their carriage. Cassandra remained beside Draven, waving as they departed. She kept her waving until the carriage disappeared from view.

The sadness came in earnest.

Tears blurred her vision, and she hastily wiped them away with the backs of her hands, painfully aware that Draven had once again seen her at her most vulnerable.

He moved in front of her and reached into his pocket for his handkerchief. Without a word, he gently dabbed the tears from her cheeks.

Cassandra tried to comport herself but the tenderness of his attentions made her eyes sting all over again.

"You can visit them whenever you wish," he assured her. "The palace is not far from here, and if you want to see them, I can take you myself. Marrying me does not mean you have to leave them behind."

Cassandra nodded, unable to find a suitable reply. She wasn’t a child that needed to soothed but with him, she found she didn’t mind.

He gave her another moment to recover before placing his hand on the small of her back.

"Come with me," he said gently. "There is something I want to show you."

Despite her lingering sadness, curiosity stirred within her. "What is it?"

"You’ll see," he replied, a mischievous note creeping into his voice.

He led her back inside, but instead of returning to the gathering, he guided her through a quieter passage and towards the stairs. The house was still alive with the murmur of guests, yet their route took them away from the busiest spaces and into the more private part of the residence.

"Your belongings were brought over early this morning while we were at the cathedral," Draven explained as they climbed the stairs. "The servants have been arranging everything in your chambers. I thought you might like to see them."

Cassandra was surprised by the consideration. She had known her things would eventually be moved, but she had not expected him to arrange everything before the ceremony was even over.

At the top of the stairs, he led her along the corridor and stopped before a large door. After opening it, he stood aside to let her enter first.

Cassandra stepped into her new bedchamber and stopped to take in the room.

Dark carved wood covered the walls, its rich tones contrasting with the ivory curtains that framed the tall windows. The ceiling was intricately ornamented, and a patterned rug lay across the polished floor.

A fireplace occupied one side of the room, its mantel decorated with carefully chosen pieces, while the bed stood at the centre of the space beneath an elegant canopy of pale fabric.

The room was beautiful, but it was not merely the expense of the furnishings that moved her. The room’s decor bore a mild resemblance to that of her chambers in the palace.

It was obvious that much thought went into preparing it.

"Oh, Draven," she murmured in awe. "It’s beautiful."

He watched as she ventured farther into the room, taking in every detail with undisguised interest. "I’m glad you like it. Your sitting room is through here."

He led her through a doorway into another room, where pale walls, elegant furnishings, and a marble fireplace lent the space a lighter, more inviting atmosphere. A sofa and several comfortable chairs had been arranged near the windows, with a small table positioned conveniently for reading or writing.

Cassandra wandered about, her fingers trailing along the back of one of the chairs as she admired her surroundings. The room was breathtaking, every detail chosen with care.

Draven crossed to a door on the opposite side of the sitting room and opened it, revealing another tastefully furnished space beyond.

"This door leads to my chambers," he explained. "My sitting room is over there."

Cassandra glanced from the open doorway to him. "Our rooms are connected?"

"My bedroom is on the other side. You are the duchess now, which means our chambers will be close to one another."

She regarded him with surprise. "And I may come through this door whenever I wish?"

The moment the question left her mouth, Cassandra wished she could take it back. It sounded far more suggestive than she had intended, almost as if she were propositioning him.

What on earth had possessed her to say such a thing?

Heat crept up her cheeks as she imagined how her words must have sounded to him.

She would have given anything to snatch them out of the air and force them back into her mouth, where they could remain forever, never to see the light of day.

Unfortunately, there was no undoing what had already been said.

"Of course," Draven replied, seemingly unbothered by her question. "You needn’t wait for an invitation. Whenever you wish to speak with me, you are welcome to come through."

His easy assurance eased some of her embarrassment. There was something comforting about knowing he intended to make room for her in his life, even though their marriage was a matter of convenience rather than affection.

Draven closed the connecting door from her side but left it unlocked before crossing to a small table where a decanter of wine, two glasses, and an assortment of light refreshments had been laid out. He poured them each a glass and handed one to her.

"To a successful marriage," he said.

Cassandra touched her glass to his. "To a successful marriage."

She lifted the glass to her lips and took a generous sip, hoping the wine might settle the strange fluttering in her stomach. It did little to help. Her entire body seemed acutely aware of Draven’s presence, particularly the way he had been looking at her.

There was something odd about being the target of such focused attention, the object of his fixation.

She had spent so much time thinking about the practicalities of their arrangement that she had scarcely allowed herself to consider what it might mean to share a home with a man she found so dangerously attractive. Yet here she was, standing an arm’s length away from her husband, wondering what would happen if she stopped thinking altogether and simply gave in to the temptation.

The thought was both thrilling and deeply worrying. Their marriage was a contract, and she had no intention of allowing physical attraction to complicate the terms they had so carefully established. But curiosity was a difficult thing to silence, particularly when Draven was looking at her as though he, too, was struggling to remember the boundaries between them.

It made her want to give into this attraction just once, curious to see if he burned as hot as she suspected he would.

He set his glass on the table, and Cassandra followed his example.

"Whatever the terms of our contract," he began, "I will do my best to be a good husband to you. I will respect you, treat you well, and do everything in my power to make this marriage a happy one."

She gravitated towards him. She could not have explained the impulse, only that the distance between them suddenly shrunk.

Before she quite realised what she was doing, she was a breath away, drawn to him by a desire she was finding increasingly difficult to dismiss.

"I believe you," she said.

Draven lifted his hand towards her face but stopped just before touching her cheek as if waiting for permission. His hesitation gave her the opportunity to turn away if she wanted, to retreat into the safety of their carefully negotiated arrangement.

Instead, Cassandra gave him a small nod.

His fingertips grazed her cheek, the touch so gentle that it sent an unexpected shiver through her. His thumb moved slowly along her skin before tracing the line of her chin. He caressed her bottom lip, savouring its plump softness.

Cassandra’s breathing hitched. The memory of their kiss at the cathedral returned with startling force, and she realised she wanted him to kiss her again.

He lowered his face towards hers, stopping when their lips were only a breath apart. Cassandra’s lips parted slightly in anticipation, her heart racing.

A knock sounded at the door.

Neither moved immediately. Cassandra drew in a breath, only then realizing she had been holding her breath in anticipation.

Another knock followed, more insistent this time.

Draven lowered his hand and reluctantly stepped away. The bubble popped, fracturing whatever was building between them and Cassandra could not decide whether to be relieved by the interruption or resentful of it.