I will be the perfect wife this time-Chapter 86: Burnt into Memory

He gazed at her, his eyes darkening with a hunger he could no longer mask. In the flickering amber light, she looked devastatingly exquisite—a temptation that tested every ounce of his crumbling resolve. Yet, with a heavy exhale, he caught her wrists and firmly, almost regretfully, disentangled them from his neck.

"Enough," he rasped, his voice strained. "You may go. I won’t breathe a word of this again. You needn’t indulge my provocations; I was merely trying to provoke you."

Olivia blinked, the sudden withdrawal leaving her cold. "What? But..."

Matthias didn’t let her finish. He sank onto the edge of the sofa beside her, his bravado replaced by a soul-deep exhaustion. He let his head fall onto her shoulder, a rare gesture of surrender. "Olivia..."

"Yes?"

"I won’t even ask what drove you into the night. But truly, I beg of you, do not repeat it. You might be oblivious to the darker machinations of the male mind, but believe me—no matter how ’noble’ you think Alistair is, it is impossible that he hasn’t looked at you and hungered for a taste of what is mine."

"I know you’re upset, but—"

"No ’buts’," he interjected, his voice hardening with possessiveness. "I do not trust him. If you wish to avoid a war like the one we fought tonight, I would appreciate it if you drew a line between you. It is agonizing, Olivia. He is a man, and he will eventually covet the body you so carelessly flaunt."

A mischievous glint returned to her eyes, her lips curling into a daring smirk. "And what of you? Do you not do the same?"

"Me?" He let out a low, rough chuckle. "I am your husband, woman. If I do not crave you, am I supposed to wander the streets hungering for another?"

Olivia laughed, the tension finally snapping into something electric. "So, you admit it? You covet my body?"

Matthias pulled back just enough to look her in the eye, his gaze traveling shamelessly over her silhouette. A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. "Do not blame me. You possess a body that was made to be desired."

Her eyes widened, a heat spreading through her chest that had nothing to do with the fire. A predatory smile crossed her face as she rose.

"Where do you think you’re going?" he asked, his voice catching.

She didn’t offer a verbal reply. Instead, she took his hand and pulled him up. He followed her without a word of protest as she led him toward the bed, gesturing for him to sit on the edge.

The moment he complied, she settled herself directly onto his lap. She draped her arms around his neck, her fingers beginning a slow, maddening dance across his skin, tracing the lines of his face with an intoxicating heat.

"What are you doing?" he managed to ask, his pulse thundering against his ribs as he felt the soft weight of her against him.

"I’m seducing you!" she whispered, her laughter like velvet against his skin.

"I don’t know how much you recall from last time, but I truly hadn’t taken those sedatives. You, however, were half-drowned in wine, so the memory is likely a blur. I think it’s only fair we recreate the experience... to ensure it’s burned into your mind once and for all. Wouldn’t you agree, dear?"

Matthias’s hand slid to her waist, his grip tightening as the heat between them flared. "Olivia... do you have any idea what you’re asking for?"

"What?" she countered, her voice playful yet sharp. "Would you prefer I go and ask Cedric instead?"

His brow furrowed in an instant, a flash of possessive rage darkening his gaze. "You brought this upon yourself," he growled, his voice dropping an octave. "And don’t you dare utter that wretch’s name again."

He didn’t wait for a retort. His lips lunged for the hollow of her throat, marking her skin with a series of searing, urgent kisses that made her breath hitch.

His other hand began a slow, deliberate ascent along her thigh, sending jolts of electricity through her. In one fluid, impatient motion, Matthias discarded his shirt, leaving his chest bare and his muscles taut under the low glow of the embers.

He paused for a fraction of a second, his dark eyes searching hers with a raw, primal intensity.

"You are certain of this? Completely certain?"

Olivia didn’t waver. She placed her hand flat against the heat of his bare chest, letting her palm slide slowly downward over his heart, feeling the frantic rhythm of his desire. She looked him straight in the eye, her gaze unyielding.

"I am certain."

That confirmation was the final spark needed. He didn’t wait a moment longer, his lips claiming her soft skin in a feverish trail of fire. Their bodies intertwined in a desperate heat, and for that timeless interval, the world beyond those four walls ceased to exist. They were the only two souls in creation, anchored to each other by breath and touch.

The night bled away in a haze of stifled moans and stolen breaths, a beautiful, exhausting blur of intimacy.

When the pale grey fingers of dawn finally pried through the velvet curtains, Olivia stirred. Every muscle in her body hummed with a lingering, heavy ache. As the vivid memories of the night flooded back, a flush that had nothing to do with the morning sun crept up her neck, turning her cheeks a fiery crimson.

"Damn you, Matthias," she muttered under her breath, a half-smile tugging at her lips despite the exhaustion. "Every inch of me hurts."

She shifted her gaze to find him beside her, still surrendered to a deep, peaceful slumber. In the soft light, the sharp, jagged edges of his usual demeanor had vanished. He looked younger, almost boyish, his face smoothed by a tranquility she had rarely seen. Quietly, she slipped from the warmth of the sheets and retreated to the washroom.

The soft echo of her footsteps roused Matthias from the heavy blanket of sleep. He lay still for a moment, watching her through half-lidded eyes as she moved about the room. She was enveloped in his silk robe, the garment far too large for her slender frame, making her appear deceptively small—almost child-like—as she paced with a parchment clutched in her hands.

"Good morning," he rasped, his voice still thick with the remnants of the night.

"Oh, you’re awake. Good morning." She paused, her silence stretching for a heartbeat before she held the paper aloft. "Whose invitation is this?"

"Hmm?" He blinked against the morning light. "One of my knights. He’s celebrating his wedding today, I believe."

"I see. But my name is written here as well."

"Yes, the invitation was for both of us," Matthias replied, shifting beneath the sheets. "But I intended to go alone. You should rest. I know those sorts of common festivities aren’t to your taste."

Olivia tilted her head, her gaze piercing. "And with whom did you plan to go, then?"

"Alone, I suppose."

She considered this, her fingers tracing the edge of the card before setting it down with a decisive click on the mahogany desk. "In that case, I am going with you."

"What? Truly?" The sheer shock of her words forced him upright, the covers pooling at his waist as he stared at her.

"Yes. As I said, the invitation specifies you and your wife. I shall attend. It wouldn’t do for you to represent our house solo."

"V-very well," he stammered, still struggling to reconcile this new version of her with the woman he knew. "As you wish. We shall stop by a boutique to select a proper gift on the way."

"Of course. That sounds perfectly fine."

He could scarcely believe the words falling from her lips. "I... I will prepare myself and come to collect you shortly."

Olivia retreated to her own chambers, where a flurry of activity awaited. Keira was already in motion, skillfully applying powders and anointing her with rare oils until the air was thick with the scent of jasmine and amber. After an exhaustive parade of gowns—silks and velvets lining the room like a silent audience—Olivia made her choice.

She stepped into a gown of exquisite craftsmanship: a deep, midnight hue that cinched tightly at her waist, molding to her curves before falling in a graceful sweep. The back was daringly low, revealing the elegant expanse of her spine. When Keira finally stepped back, she let out a soft, audible gasp. To her eyes, Olivia wasn’t just a Duchess; she was a living masterpiece of marble and shadow.

"My Lady... you are truly breathtaking."

"Ah... thank you, Keira." Olivia adjusted a stray lock of hair, her eyes scanning the room as if searching for something—or someone—missing. "By the way, has Isabella not appeared? Her absence today is rather conspicuous."

"No, My Lady. Lady Isabella has not come today."

"That is... strange." Olivia’s brow knit in a brief moment of concern. Isabella never missed a chance to pry, especially after the week they’d had.

The Revelation

In the suffocating silence of her chambers, Isabella sat paralyzed, staring at the parchment before her with a primal, bone-deep terror. There was no mistaking that elegant, rhythmic script, nor the crystalline resonance of the sorcery orb that had accompanied it.

With trembling hands, she activated the orb again and again, letting the spectral recording bleed into the room. Each time the voice flickered to life, it felt like a silver needle piercing her heart, causing a fresh torrent of tears to spill down her cheeks.

"My daughter, Isabella... I have missed you so. I pray you are well, and that this message finds you in the best of spirits. I love you."

The recording dissolved into a faint hum, leaving her in a vacuum of grief and disbelief. She looked down at the written letter once more—the words were a testament to a father’s yearning, a deep and abiding affection that only one man could possess. There was no room for doubt, especially not with the signature that stood like a ghost at the bottom of the page:

Edward Norman

A ragged, choked gasp escaped her lips, her voice barely a whisper against the rising tide of her sobs. "Papa..."