Awakening Love Reborn to Be His Duchess (Elowen Hale) novel Chapter 5

Chapter 5 A Man Lying Beside Her The dressing table had been set up in the adjoining chamber. It was clearly brand new-darkwood, finely crafted, its surface polished to a rich, glossy sheen that caught the light. A clear mirror rested on the tabletop, beside an intricately carved wooden casket.”It’s such a shame His Grace couldn’t see you on your wedding day.” Mira, Elowen’s dowry handmaid, gently let Elowen’s hair down, her movements careful and unhurried. Her voice was light, almost wistful. Elowen curved her lips into a faint smile. “There’s nothing to regret.

Beautiful women are everywhere in this world. I’m nothing special.” She was only seventeen. Cassian was ten years older than she was. In those ten extra years, he must have seen countless women-some alluring, some sweet and bright, some bold enough to leave an impression. Compared to them, her face probably seemed painfully ordinary. And besides, even surrounded by beauty, Cassian had never married. Rumor had it that his heart already belonged to someone else. Elowen couldn’t imagine what kind of woman could inspire that level of devotion from the Duke of Duskmoor.

What kind of breathtaking beauty she must be. After washing and freshening up, Elowen changed into a pale, moon-white nightgown. Bran had already brought over a brand-new pillow and a brocade quilt, laying them neatly beside Cassian. Once everything was in order, the servants withdrew with practiced discretion. Elowen climbed onto the bed as quietly as she could and lay down beside him. The wedding bed was wide, leaving a clear distance between them. She caught the faint scent of medicinal herbs and felt the steady warmth radiating from Cassian’s body.

Like her father and brothers, Cassian trained year-round. His body temperature always ran slightly higher than most. Elowen turned onto her side. Outside, the night was deep and still, the moonlight faint. But inside the chamber, the wedding candles burned steadily, filling the room with a soft, golden glow. Bathed in that light, Elowen studied Cassian’s profile. His features were sharp and sculpted, like mountain ridges carved by time. His lashes were thick and dark, casting faint shadows beneath his eyes.

Because he had been unconscious for so long, his lips were pale, and a faint bluish stubble traced the line of his jaw. She watched him for a long moment before speaking softly. “I’m truly sorry… for saying I would marry you while you were unconscious.” Not far away, a candle crackled, molten wax blooming as the flame flared. Elowen paused, then continued in a low voice, “But I promise you-I’ll take good care of you. I’ll fulfill my duties as the Duchess of Duskmoor.” – Compared to the liveliness of Duskmoor Manor, the Crown Prince’s Wing felt heavy and lifeless.

The Crown Prince had been ill for many days. Royal physicians came and went, prescriptions were changed again and again, yet there was no improvement. The Queen was displeased. Her temper had grown increasingly sharp, and the entire wing lived in quiet dread-heads lowered, voices hushed, every step taken with care. Alaric knew none of this. He lay in bed, his thoughts tangled, drifting into a dream. In the dream, there was a wedding. And the groom was himself. Rain poured down that day, relentless and cold.

His shoes, stockings, even the hem of his robes were soaked through, smeared with mud, leaving him wretched and miserable. When he stepped into the bridal chamber, the first thing he saw was Elowen. She sat upright on the wedding bed. Her hair had been swept up and coiled atop her head, crowned with an ornate, luxurious headpiece. She wore a wedding gown of deep ivory, the fabric heavy and finely woven, embroidered with subtle floral patterns along the hem. In the candlelight, the silk caught the glow with a soft, muted sheen. She had altered the gown herself.

As the youngest daughter of Hale Manor, Elowen had been taught far more than courtly manners. She could ride and shoot like any noble girl raised on the frontier, and she was just as skilled with needle and brush. Now, her cheeks were flushed. She lowered her gaze, a restrained, nervous smile touching her lips. Faint dimples appeared, lending her an air of quiet warmth. Alaric stared at her, unable to look away. The sound of rain against the windows faded into nothing. All he could hear was the uneven, pounding beat of his own heart. He jolted awake. Darkness filled his vision.

All he could make out was the heavy bed canopy above him. His entire body was drenched in sweat. It took a long moment for his thoughts to settle. “Your Highness, you’re awake?” His personal attendant entered quietly. Alaric’s voice was hoarse. “What time is it?” “It’s nearly the end of the night watch, Your Highness. Her Majesty will soon be returning from Duskmoor Manor.” Duskmoor Manor. Alaric abruptly pushed himself upright. “What day is it today?” “The third day of the sixth month. Today is the day the Duke of Duskmoor married the general’s daughter.” Alaric froze.

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