A Barbaric Proposal Chapter 68

※Courtship (4)※

A wave of raw, aching sorrow washed over her.

As Liene sobbed against him, his expression faltered into a look of sheer helplessness—yet a ghost of a smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

[Black] "I was... a bit desperate, I suppose."

[Liene] "Desperate? How?"

She sniffled, looking up at him through tear-blurred eyes.

To her, he had been cold. Indifferent.

Black gently lowered her onto the bed. He settled her against the oversized pillows and sat between her legs, caging her in with his sheer presence.

[Black] "You always look like a woman who has one foot out the door. Like you’re waiting for the right moment to run away from me."

[Liene] "That’s not true. I never felt that way."

His admission stunned her. It was the exact opposite of reality. She was the one living in constant terror that he would be the one to vanish.

[Black] "Every time I manage to close the gap between us by an inch, you seem to push me back a yard the very next day. I needed to know if that was what you wanted."

[Liene] "I didn't... I never tried to—"

[Black] "You did. Every single time."

He murmured the words low, his voice a velvet rasp, as he used the back of his hand to wipe the tears from her cheeks.

[Black] "I wanted to see if you would feel relieved if I pulled away... or if you would be as restless as I am."

Fresh tears spilled over.

He had done it on purpose. He had tested her heart by breaking it.

[Liene] "Don't... don't you ever do that again. Seriously. If you ever... I’ll hate you."

[Black] "I was wrong. Forgive me."

[Liene] "I really, really hated it."

The final words were muffled by a sob.

In a fit of lingering resentment and desperate longing, Liene reached out and hauled him into a fierce embrace.

Black didn't resist; he leaned in, diligently catching her tears with his lips as he kissed her damp cheeks.

[Black] "Cry more."

[Liene] "Don't... don't encourage me."

[Black] "I want to see it."

His voice was a low vibration against her skin, sending a shiver racing down her spine.

[Liene] "See what?"

[Black] "I want to see you crying because of me."

[Liene] "What is wrong with you?"

She pulled back slightly, confused.

[Liene] "A moment ago, you told me to stop."

[Black] "That was before I knew the reason."

[Liene] "Does the reason change things?"

[Black] "Don't you think it does? For you?"

[Liene] "I... I don't know."

She couldn't be sure. But the thought of Black crying because he feared her coldness made her chest tighten with a strange, possessive ache.

Fine. Maybe I want to see that, too.

Still, what he had done was cruel. Even if she had been distant, his calculated coldness was worse.

[Liene] "I won't do it anymore."

She whispered, her fingers idly drumming against his shoulder.

[Liene] "I only acted that way because I didn't know how you felt. I was trying to protect my own heart, My Dear. So..."

Suddenly, Black pulled back, his hands gripping her shoulders.

[Black] "What did you just call me?"

[Liene] "You... you heard me."

She swallowed hard.

His gaze had sharpened—a predatory glint mixed with a look of pure, dazed shock. The man was a walking contradiction.

[Black] "Say it again. I think I misheard you."

[Liene] "I said I wouldn't do it anymore."

[Black] "After that."

[Liene] "After?"

[Black] "The way you addressed me. Without the title."

It had slipped out so naturally she hadn't even realized she'd dropped the formal 'Lord Tiwakan.'

[Black] "You called me 'My Dear’."

[Liene] "Did I?"

[Black] "It sounded perfect."

A low, primal sound—halfway between a groan and a sigh—escaped his throat.

He leaned over her, his movements slow and deliberate. He wasn't rushing, but the sheer strength in his arms made any thought of resistance laughably impossible.

Her back hit the pillow, and she realized they were finally tangled together.

[Black] "My turn."

His voice was a hoarse whisper. His hand slid behind her neck.

Pop. 

Another button gave way. The nightgown loosened, and he eased the fabric down over her shoulder.

The sensation of the cool air hitting her collarbone, followed by the warmth of his gaze, made her skin tingle with a localized electric charge.

[Black] "Your turn, Princess."

Her mouth felt bone-dry. She instinctively licked her lips.

[Black] "What do you want?"

[Liene] "I want to see you, too."

Liene reached for the lapels of his silk robe and pulled.

He chuckled—a short, dark sound—and shifted his weight to let the garment slide easily from his broad shoulders.

[Black] "My turn."

Pop. 

Three buttons down. The gown was draped precariously low now.

She felt exactly as he wanted her to feel: unraveled.

[Black] "And for the Princess?"

[Liene] "I want... to touch this."

Liene traced a finger over a scar she had noticed before.

His body was a map of violence, but the one on his left flank looked different. It was old, the skin raised and pale against the surrounding muscle. It looked like it had never stopped aching.

[Liene] "Can I touch it? Does it hurt?"

He watched her fingertips move against his skin.

[Black] "It’s the oldest mark I carry. It doesn't hurt anymore."

[Liene] "How old were you?"

[Black] "Eight."

[Liene] "Oh..."

Her hand trembled.

Eight years old.

Had a Kleinfelter done this?

Or had it been her own father’s shadow?

[Black] "That wound nearly killed me, but strangely, it’s the reason I’m still alive today."

[Liene] "How so?"

[Black] "It’s a long story. But the only thing that matters right now..."

He paused, taking her hand and pressing her palm firmly against the scar.

[Black] "...is that your hand is on it, and I feel no pain at all."

He didn't know it, but he had just performed a miracle for her. He had taken the heaviest weight of her guilt and tossed it aside.

He had been hurt by her bloodline, yet here he was, finding peace under her touch.

[Liene] "If I start crying again... will you still tell me it’s a beautiful sight?"

[Black] "I’ll tell you this instead."

[Liene] "What?"

[Black] "Most days, you are so beautiful you don't even seem human to me. But when you cry? You’re even more breathtaking."

[Liene] "Are... are you serious?"

[Black] "So if you feel a sob coming on, come find me. Don't waste those tears in private."

How was she supposed to stay dry-eyed after a line like that?

A fresh flood of tears burst forth. It wasn't sorrow this time; it was as if her eyes had simply broken.

Liene wept like a child learning to cry for the first time. The more Black stroked her back, the more the tears flowed.

They kissed between sobs, then she would cry again, and Black—never tiring of the cycle—would wipe her cheeks and tell her to let it all out.

---

[Flambard] "Oh? Did you sleep in this room last night?"

By the time Madam Flambard arrived, Black had already gone to wash. Even though they’d been "caught" together before, Liene still preferred a bit of discretion.

[Liene] "I... I did."

[Flambard] "Good heavens!"

The Madam gasped, waving her hands frantically as she watched Liene pull back the covers.

[Flambard] "Did you... Did you finally complete the wedding night?"

[Liene] "What? No! My cycle hasn't even ended yet."

Despite the three missing buttons on her gown, nothing scandalous had actually happened.

Liene felt the fabric sliding off her shoulder and quickly adjusted it, trying to hide from the Madam’s eagle eyes.

It was useless.

[Flambard] "Is that so?"

The Madam narrowed her eyes, scanning Liene from head to toe. Liene had always been defenseless against the woman’s motherly scrutiny.

[Liene] "I mean it. Why would I lie about that? It’s not as if I could hide the evidence."

The Madam knew every detail of the laundry and the linens; there were no secrets in this castle.

[Flambard] "Well, then, why in the world is your voice so raspy?"

[Liene] "My voice?"

[Flambard] "And your eyes are swollen like overripe plums. And your lips... well..."

She panicked, her hands flying to her face.

[Liene] "Do I... do I look that bad?"

[Flambard] "I think it’s best if you see for yourself."

Liene scrambled out of bed. She had believed Black when he said she was beautiful. She had sobbed, blown her nose, and spent the morning kissing him with abandon.

Since he had looked as handsome as ever even without washing his face, she assumed she looked reasonably presentable.

She was wrong.

She raced to her room and stood before the mirror. Madam Flambard followed behind, fretting about her running and warning her not to trip with her eyes in that condition.

[Liene] "Augh!"

A sound that was somewhere between a scream and a whimper escaped her.

[Liene] "Is this... is this me?"

Her eyes and cheeks were bloated. Her lips were puffed up and red. Her skin was blotchy with dried tear tracks, making her look like she’d slept in a puddle, and her hair was a bird's nest of tangles.

[Liene] "That... that liar!"

She collapsed into her vanity chair, mortified.

[Flambard] "Your Highness? I haven't told you a single lie!"

[Liene] "Not you, Madam! Him! He told me I looked fine!"

"Fine" was an understatement. He’d told her she looked like someone out of a fairy tale.

[Liene] "He said I looked beautiful. He said it multiple times! How could he tell such a blatant lie? He kissed this face! He kissed my forehead, my nose, my cheeks... he put his mouth on this."

She clutched her matted hair, looking like she might start crying all over again out of sheer shame.

[Flambard] "Pffft."

Liene froze. She heard it—the sound of Madam Flambard failing to suppress a laugh.

[Liene] "Madam?"

She whirled around.

[Liene] "Are you laughing at me?"

[Flambard] "No, I... I tried to hold it in, I really did... snort... forgive me."

[Liene] "Madam!"

Glaring with a swollen face only made her look more ridiculous, though Liene didn't realize it.

[Flambard] "I’m not laughing at the face, honestly... oh, my heart."

The Madam leaned against the wall, catching her breath.

[Flambard] "You’re naturally a beauty, so even like this, you aren't exactly hideous."

[Liene] "That is not a comfort."

[Flambard] "It just proves you’ve found a wonderful match."

[Liene] "He lied to me! He was probably making fun of me in his head!"

[Flambard] "Nonsense. To a man in love, that face is beautiful. Every bit of it."

[Liene] "I highly doubt that."

[Flambard] "Don't you? Look at how he speaks to you."

The Madam smiled warmly, reaching out to smooth back Liene’s tangled blonde hair.

[Flambard] "He must adore you quite a bit to say such things. Even my old heart is fluttering just thinking about it, Your Highness."

[Liene] "Oh..."

Liene stared at her reflection. She looked wretched, yet she remembered the way Black had looked at her this morning.

—Let me look at you a little longer.

He had said that when she tried to hide her face in his chest.

—I haven't even washed yet. 

She had protested.

—I know. This is the first time I’ve seen you like this. It’s a gift.

He hadn't been joking. His touch had been so reverent, so careful, as if he were handling a priceless treasure.

[Flambard] "You are a lucky woman to be cherished so. The gods of Nauk must love you."

[Liene] "…I suppose they do."

Liene leaned her cheek into the Madam’s hand.

[Liene] "How can I ever thank them? I don't deserve to be loved like this. It’s almost scary. What if something goes wrong?"

[Flambard] "Don't 'what if' your happiness away, child. Just be grateful. The gods know your heart."

She patted Liene’s shoulder before shifting back into her "head of maid" persona.

[Flambard] "Now, wash that face. Lord Tiwakan might find you lovely, but we can't have you walking around the castle looking like you’ve been stung by a swarm of bees."

[Liene] "Right. Of course."

Flush with embarrassment, Liene hurried to wash.

Madam Flambard even prepared a cold compress to help bring the swelling down.

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