Love's Unexpected Awakening Elowen's Choice novel Chapter 273

And Elowen looked young, the sort who would be easy to pressure.

Earlier Anwen had merely played the victim, and Elowen had immediately shown sympathy and rushed off to plead with Cassian.

She was soft-hearted, the sort who believed whatever she was told.

Geoffrey could already imagine how it would go.

A few sweet words, a small display of strength, and she would resist just enough to make it feel convincing before eventually giving in.

He had done this many times before. Those sheltered girls always flushed the moment they saw his body.

Once he guided their hands across his arms, they usually melted within moments.

Elowen was a woman too. It would be no different.

And the thought of having Elowen left his mouth dry.

The candlelight inside the room was dim and hazy.

He saw a slender figure standing in the middle of the room with her back toward him, her head slightly lowered as if studying the folding screen.

Geoffrey stared at that narrow waist and swallowed.

He could not wait another moment. "Duchess."

Sylvia had come to say farewell.

Elspeth and Yvonne had decided they would return to Vanelle first, so they had sent Sylvia over to deliver the message.

When Sylvia arrived, she learned that Elowen was not here.

A maid explained that the Duke and Duchess had gone to Dawnfall Ridge on a sudden whim without informing anyone and would return early the next day.

Sylvia nodded.

She had intended to leave immediately.

But the furnishings in the room were unusual, especially the tall four-panel tapestry standing to the left.

The backing cloth was pale ivory silk, and the embroidery depicted a misty river valley worked in layered shades of blue and silver.

The craftsmanship was extraordinary.

The distant hills were rendered with soft, flowing stitches that gave them the hazy look of land half-hidden in morning fog, while the nearer stone pavilions and arched bridges were stitched with tight, precise threads that defined every edge and roofline.

The river itself was the most striking detail.

Fine strands of silver, pearl white, and pale blue thread had been woven together so skillfully that in the candlelight the surface seemed to shimmer like real water shifting beneath a cloudy sky.

The rain was worked with even finer stitching, thousands of delicate threads falling across the scene so densely that it looked as though an entire curtain of misty rain had been captured inside the cloth.

Sylvia enjoyed it. At a glance she could tell this was far from ordinary work. She was completely absorbed when someone suddenly called out, "Duchess."

Sylvia turned and saw a tall, powerfully built man striding toward her.

His face was unfamiliar and rough. She immediately stepped back twice to create distance, her brows drawing together.

"Whoever you are, step aside. If word spreads that we were alone in a room together, it would ruin my reputation, and it would not end well for you either."

For most men, mentioning Falconcrest Manor and a royal betrothal would have been enough.

Geoffrey was not most men.

The moment he heard she was engaged, his eyes lit up. To him, women who were promised—or already married—were even more enticing. More thrilling.

Instead of retreating, he stepped closer.

He didn't back away. Instead, he moved a step closer, his gaze sliding down over her as his voice turned smooth and insinuating. "I know Piers. The man's rigid, always carrying himself like the world is a formal ceremony."

Geoffrey leaned closer as though sharing a private confidence. "If you want a man like him to stay interested, to truly lose his head over you, there are certain things you need to learn, though I imagine you'd be far too shy to ask anyone about them."

His smile spread wider. "Fortunately for you, I happen to be someone who could show you."

Sylvia had spent her entire life under careful protection, first under her father's watch and later within the sheltered walls of Duskmoor Manor. She had never encountered anything remotely like this.

The sheer disgust of the moment left her mind momentarily numb.

She did not argue. She turned immediately and headed for the door, drawing breath to call out, "Someone—"

Geoffrey's hand clamped firmly over her mouth.

Sylvia struggled with everything she had, kicking and striking at him with her fists.

Against a man like Geoffrey, broad-shouldered and hardened by training, her resistance had little effect beyond providing him with a moment's amusement.