Shackled To The Enemy King-Chapter 137: Yes Or No?

"You..." Catherine huffed in frustration.

She struggled harder to escape his hold.

Unfortunately, that only made things worse.

The more she twisted beneath him, the more her chest moved with the effort—and the wider Maximilian’s smirk became.

"Careful," he murmured softly.

His eyes hadn’t left her chest.

His thumb traced slow, lazy circles across the back of her hand where their fingers were still interlocked above her head.

Still watching her, he leaned closer. "You’re making it very difficult for me to behave..." he said under his breath.

Only then did his gaze lift back to her face, that dangerous amusement still dancing in his eyes.

"You don’t want me to stop, do you?"

Catherine scoffed. "As if!"

She said it with perfect indignation, but her heart knew the truth. And judging from the look in his eyes... Maximilian knew it too.

Before she could protest again, he leaned down and kissed her. This time it wasn’t a teasing brush. His lips lingered warmly against hers, slow and unhurried, as if savoring the moment. At the same time, his free hand slid down and settled gently against her chest.

Catherine froze for half a heartbeat. Then warmth flooded through her all at once.

"Why is your mind always going to the gutter?" he murmured softly against her lips.

Her eyes flew open.

His fingers tightened slightly, brushing over the sensitive point that made her breath hitch unexpectedly. Her head tipped forward, resting against his shoulder as a soft, helpless sound escaped her.

"What do you mean..." she murmured, her voice unsteady.

His lips grazed her cheek.

Instinctively, she turned her face and kissed him again, this time on her own. Her legs shifted restlessly against the sheets as heat curled low in her stomach.

Maximilian exhaled quietly. "I asked for your hand..." he said. His hand stilled where it rested against her.

"...for marriage."

For a moment, Catherine didn’t move. Her mind went completely blank.

Marriage?

Slowly, her eyes lifted to his face again.

Was this... a proposal?

But if it was a proposal... why did it feel like she had stumbled into it halfway through?

And more importantly...

How on earth was she supposed to answer that?

"Will you stop touching my tits?" Catherine huffed. "And... you keep proposing, but where is my ring?"

Maximilian didn’t remove his hand. If anything, his palm rested there more comfortably, as though he had already claimed the right.

But his eyes widened slightly at her words.

"Will you accept if I give you a ring?" he asked.

Catherine immediately looked away.

Would she? She couldn’t confidently say no.

But yes... could she say yes?

She didn’t know.

"It’s... it’s not that simple," she murmured.

This was the same woman who had rejected him without hesitation just a few days ago. Yet everything had changed since then.

Maximilian studied her quietly. He could see it... the shift in her heart. He had expected anger after their meeting with Charlotte. He expected for her to put distance between them and treat him with coldness.

But Catherine had been... normal. Too normal.

Was it because she truly didn’t care? Or was she simply avoiding the thought?

A small weight settled in his chest. He wanted to ask. But he was afraid of the answer. What if he shattered this fragile moment between them? He didn’t want that.

Slowly, he released her wrists. His hands lowered, his head resting gently against the soft warmth of her chest instead.

"I want to marry you, Catherine," he said quietly. His voice carried none of its usual teasing now.

"Not only because I love you..." His gaze softened as he looked at her. "...but because I want to be a part of your family."

Catherine didn’t respond.

But before she realized it herself, her fingers had already slipped into his hair, gently tangling in the damp strands.

She knew he wasn’t lying.

His voice... the way he looked at her... the quiet sincerity in his eyes. She had seen it before, in the way he stayed beside her through the long hours when her father was in surgery, in the way he laughed easily with her cousins, as though he had always belonged there, and in the way he had looked almost... peaceful among her family.

Maximilian said nothing more.

He only felt her fingers in his hair. There was no anger in that touch. No hesitation. There was only warmth.

And so they stayed like that.

Skin against skin.

Breaths brushing softly against one another.

Two hearts beating in the same quiet rhythm, suspended in a silence that somehow said far more than words ever could.

Catherine’s mind slowly settled on what he had said. He had told her he loved her. Again.

Did she love him?

The simplest answer was yes.

But the moment that thought formed, fear followed right behind it--Fear of saying it out loud.

The memory of her previous life still lingered like an old wound that never truly healed. The moment she had finally confessed her feelings... she had lost him. Almost immediately.

The pain of that loss still clung to her heart.

No.

She wouldn’t say it.

Another fear crept in, quieter but just as sharp.

What if he grew tired of her someday? What if he thought she was deliberately holding back... playing hard to get... putting on airs?

She didn’t want him to think that.

But she was scared. So terribly scared.

"Back then..." she began quietly.

Maximilian looked at her.

"The rumor... that I slept with you that night." She swallowed lightly. "How did it come to be?"

Fragments of memory from that day had begun to surface recently. For years, she had buried the entire day in the darkest corner of her mind, because her son had died that day.

Remembering anything else about it had simply been impossible.

But lately... pieces had started returning.

"You had asked me to bring my son with me that day," she said slowly. "What else did you write in that letter?"

Maximilian had been the one to request the meeting... A ceasefire discussion. Dorian had insisted she attend because she knew Maximilian personally. She had agreed, though reluctantly. She had left her son with his governess before leaving.

Now, as she thought about it again, another memory surfaced.

The way Dorian had hugged her before she left, too tightly and too quietly. At the time, she hadn’t thought much of it.

Now... She wondered what had truly been going through his mind.

"Dorian sent the first letter," Maximilian said.

Catherine’s heart thudded hard against her ribs.

Maximilian felt it.

After all, he had still been leaning over her.

Slowly, he pushed himself up and sat beside her.

"He offered the port city of Hepgar," Maximilian continued, "in exchange for clearing the Garvel Pass so his military rations could move through."

"Hepgar?" Catherine repeated in disbelief.

How could Dorian promise a city from her kingdom? Even if her country had been a vassal state... Hepgar was still a major port.

And more importantly... Maximilian’s words suggested something else.

He had suggested that Dorian had been losing the war.

"Hepgar, yes," Maximilian said. Then he hesitated. "And..."

Catherine sat up immediately. "And what?"

She didn’t even think about covering herself now.

Maximilian looked at her, his eyes reflecting faintly in the dim light of the room. "He said he would arrange a private dinner with you," Maximilian finished quietly.

Catherine froze.

Her husband...did he know? Did he realized that she was Maximilian’s weakness? And...did he decide to use her?

But if that were true...

Why had he told her the opposite?

Why had he said the dinner was Maximilian’s request?

"You were winning?" Catherine asked slowly.

Maximilian nodded.

Her fists clenched at her sides. All this time, while she had lived beside Dorian, she had been made to believe their army was winning, and that Maximilian’s forces were barely surviving.

Was it pride? Or was it his ego that forced him to lie?

Or...

Was Maximilian the one lying now?

"So..." Catherine whispered. "Why did he send me alone?"

Maximilian said nothing. But even as the question left her lips... The answer arrived. Her teeth clenched. Her fingers curled tightly into her palms.

And a cold realization spread slowly through her chest.