Dylan looked up at the sky that appeared abnormally dark—even for an early morning. She wasn't afraid of bad weather, but it had always made her feel restless. She flinched as thunder boomed and broke across the clouds. A storm was coming.
"You should depart, so you're not late," the Duke said, approaching her side. "Your manners will have a great effect in producing an impression to your advantage."
She glanced over at him, the corners of her mouth turning up in a perfect fake smile. It was her automatic response whenever she saw him.
When she laid eyes on the Duke, her smile faltered, and her expression became clouded. It was quite a shock to see him so dishevelled. The Duke's hair was rumpled, and he looked tired. His eyes even looked red, as if maybe he'd missed a night's sleep. Dylan felt a twinge of guilt.
"Don't worry," she reassured him. "I understand, father."
People would be watching her—now more than ever before. After Axil's downfall, everybody's eyes were fixed on the Duchy of Beaumon.
"Be mindful of your actions," he told her, straightening his jacket and smoothing his hair. "You are my successor now."
"Yes, father." She spoke, looking away as a gust of wind blew her curls into her face. With her right hand she brushed her hair back behind her ear, revealing an earring. "You can trust me."
The Duke looked at the shimmery oval-shaped blue stone. "Is that new?"
"Oh," she said, her hand going to her left ear. "I thought the blue colour was pretty, so I bought it."
Truthfully, Yvette had sent her several pieces of jewellery. Dylan was going to wear them around Faerchester in order to promote her business.
He narrowed his eyes, trying to make some sense of her words. "You like green," he said. "It's your favourite colour, remember?"
A shadow crossed her face for a fleeting second but she quickly covered it with a smile again. "I'll order a green pair next time."
It wasn't her favourite colour. In fact, it was her least favourite colour. But she could see from the look in the Duke's eyes that it wasn't just a simple mistake. Her biological father was always a haunting shadow, following her wherever she went, staying with her wherever she stayed. Green. It was his favourite colour, not hers.
"Milady, the carriage is ready." A servant spoke as he finished combing one of the horses. "Are you ready to depart?"
"Be sure to write to me," the Duke said, offering her his hand. "Don't forget."
Avoiding his eyes, Dylan allowed him to help her into the carriage. In moments like these, he appeared almost human. He looked like a good and loving father. Dylan, however, knew that his actions were far from genuine.
She didn't want his kindness. She didn't want anything from this man. It was because she knew deep down that it was all meant for him, and not her.
The Duke tilted his head to look at her in the carriage. "I'm proud of you," he told her. "I really am, Dylan."
'Bullshit. It's all bullshit.'
He placed his hands against the door and leaned in to kiss her on the forehead. Dylan clenched her fists within the skirt of her dress as his lips touched her skin. She wanted to push him away.
"Thank you," she mumbled, bowing her head. "I'll write to you."
He closed the carriage door, and Dylan held her breath as the carriage lurched forward. She didn't know who she despised more, her biological father for having an affair and hushing it up, or herself for being born from it.
***
The carriage rumbled on for what seemed like hours. Dylan sank back into her seat, listening to the sound of rain beating down on the carriage roof. She felt unreasonably agitated.
'I can't take this anymore.'
Dylan pushed the carriage window open and stuck her head out. Rain whipped against her face painfully, like a shower of pins stabbing into a cushion. "Sir Cadence!" she yelled.
Cadence did not sit in the carriage with her as they travelled to Faerchester, instead he rode his horse alongside. She could hardly see through the rain. Where was he?
"Stop the carriage!" she yelled as she beat her fists against the wooden carriage wall. "I said stop!"
"Milady," the coachman shouted frantically, "you'll spook the horses!"
"Stop!"
The coachman pulled the carriage to a halt with difficulty. Dylan wrenched open the door and stepped out onto the wet cobblestone road. The rain beat down with hard strength, soaking her through to the skin.
"Milady, you can't be outside in this weather!" The coachman's voice was a plea. "Please get back in the carriage."
She shook her head. "I don't want to."
She heard horse hooves slosh against the wet cobblestone, clopping along the road, and turned to see who was approaching. Sitting atop his horse, Cadence looked down upon her with a worried expression.
"I'm riding with you," she said, the rain plastering her curls to her head. "I don't want to ride alone."
He dismounted his horse and walked toward where she was standing. His jacket was soaked and his shirt clung to his back, revealing a muscular physique she'd only imagined. Dylan's entire body heated and she flushed red. What a silly girl she was. It had only just occurred to her that Cadence was a man.
Cadence took off his jacket and slung it over her soaked shoulders. He began to fasten the row of buttons on the jacket, while an indescribable emotion filled his eyes. Dylan shivered when his fingertips brushed her lightly. His touch felt different from all the others.
"Please," she whispered. "Let me ride with you."
His hands paused. He didn't mind not having a tongue, since there was no reason for him to speak. At least that was the case—until he met her. Now there were so many things he wanted to say to her. So many things.
Cadence brushed her soaked hair away from her face. Man, she was beautiful. They were standing close enough that he could feel the warmth of her breath on his lips, see the way the raindrops clung to her eyelashes.
Dylan shivered. It wasn't from the rain, but because of the path his eyes were taking from her face along her neck to her chest.
"Can't I?" she asked him.
Cadence nodded, lifting her into his arms. Dylan put her hands on his shoulders and felt his muscles flex beneath the fabric of his shirt. Carefully placing her in the saddle, he mounted behind her and drew her back against his muscular chest. The feel of his solid, warm body pressed against hers sent electric tingles of sensation throughout her.
Cadence tried not to react to the feel of her against him, the rightness of having her body pressed against his. Dangerous. The pleasure he was experiencing from the feel of her small, soft body, against his was dangerous.
As the horse began to gallop, the rain beat heavily against them. He wrapped his arm around her waist, holding her still against his body, as they rode silently back to Faerchester.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
I got a few messages in my inbox suggesting an adult scene.
How would you guys feel about a spicy scene..? Like an 18+ scene? Hehe...
I don't want to make anyone uncomfortable, so if you don't like the idea, let me know!