Chapter 162: To Start A New Life Together
Sylvia’s hesitations melted as she placed her hand on his cheek. This man... she wanted to give him everything she had, right at this moment. She didn’t care about anything else.
Sylvia’s fingers fumbled at his belt, trembling, hesitant. For so long, she had resisted because of the fear of becoming bound in a way she couldn’t undo and the fear of carrying his child before she could fully trust him. But now, it was gone. Replaced by a silent surrender. The promise of marriage hung between them, unspoken but understood, a future woven from the threads of this very moment.
Aldric placed a gentle kiss on her cheeks as she unbuckled his belt. His trousers slipped down, with him exposed, just like she was, each sharing the vulnerability.
His movements grew bolder, hands sliding lower, mapping the planes of her body, the small swell of her hips, the gentle curve of her waist. She trembled beneath him, an electric tension radiating from the very core of her being.
Their breaths mingled, ragged and shallow, each kiss a defiance of the world beyond the shadows. Every touch, every sigh, every trembling gasp was an act of rebellion, of claiming, of belonging.
When Aldric paused, his chest heaving, his eyes searching hers in the dim light, the consent was there, not spoken, but undeniable. A quiet acceptance radiated from Sylvia, the weight of years of fear dissolving into the space between them.
Without hesitation, he moved, and their bodies joined in a slow, primal rhythm. Every motion was deliberate, every touch a silent affirmation of love and longing. Her skin burned where his hands roamed, where his lips kissed, where their bodies met.
The world outside seemed impossibly distant. Only the creaking wood, the dim light, and their mingled breath remained. The vulnerability of the space, the risk of being discovered, only heightened their passion, making every touch more urgent, more profound.
When it was over, Aldric held her close, his arms a sanctuary, his lips brushing the crown of her head. Her body, once so hesitant, now lay relaxed against his, the tremors of their union slowly subsiding into a gentle warmth.
Their souls, wild and irrevocably intertwined, lingered in the hush of that stolen moment. She nestled closer, a faint, contented smile gracing her lips, the certainty of their future settling like an unspoken promise.
Then came the thudding of footsteps, slow and deliberate, growing louder with every step.
Aldric’s hands moved swiftly, collecting Sylvia’s discarded corset from the floor and securing it around her. He tugged his trousers up with practiced ease, while Sylvia hastily covered herself with trembling hands. Without hesitation, Aldric’s body shifted, becoming a protective shield, his presence enveloping her.
"It’s the Prince," he murmured softly into her ear, his voice low enough that only she could hear.
Sylvia’s breath caught. The weight of Leroy’s nearness pressed upon them, unspoken yet undeniable. They felt it, but not in his eyes or his words, for he said nothing, not yet, and looked neither here nor there. But his presence lingered, sharp and observant, like a silent sentinel just beyond reach.
Her voice was barely a whisper. "Will he notice?"
Aldric offered only a soft hum, certain that Leroy’s perceptive nature could sense something amiss, even if he chose to look elsewhere. A part of him hoped that was exactly what Leroy would do.
Still, silence stretched between them until Leroy’s voice broke through, calm and measured, without accusation, yet unmistakably pointed. "Don’t you two have rooms?"
Aldric chuckled, pressing even closer, letting the playful defiance in his tone fill the air. "We’re getting married."
Sylvia’s cheeks flared red, heat rising as the subtle implication of Leroy’s awareness hung in the air like a taut thread neither could cut.
Leroy said nothing more. His steps continued, measured and steady, moving away without turning back, leaving them cloaked in the intimacy of their secret.
Sylvia exhaled deeply, her hand coming up to lightly punch Aldric’s chest. "It’s not funny."
"But it is," he said, his voice low, a teasing warmth threading through it. "It’s... joyous."
Her glare softened, dissolving into laughter, bright and genuine, carried by relief and affection.
"Get dressed. I have something to show you," Aldric said, his tone gentler now, almost reverent.
"What is it?" Sylvia asked, watching in quiet wonder as Aldric refastened her corset with an ease born of familiarity. His fingers moved deftly, pulling the laces tight, a subtle, intimate gesture that needed no words.
Once she was properly dressed, Aldric took Sylvia’s hand without hesitation, guiding her out of the shadowed corridor, their steps falling into quiet harmony. The silent weight of Leroy’s presence seemed to fade behind them, like a distant echo neither needed to acknowledge.
He led her to his private chambers, where the low flicker of candlelight cast a warm glow over the room. Aldric moved with practiced ease, reaching beneath his bed to retrieve a couple of neatly rolled parchments. His desk, cluttered with open scrolls and ink-stained quills, was pushed aside as he unrolled the parchment he held, spreading it carefully on the desk.
A broad smile tugged at his lips. Without a word, he gestured for Sylvia to come closer.
Her eyes followed his motion, widening as she took in the drawing before her. It was the detailed blueprint of a house—not grand like a mansion, but a large, sturdy cottage.
"A house?" she murmured.
He nodded, unrolling the second parchment with deliberate care. "Our house. Built..." His finger traced a path on the map, "...here."
Sylvia’s own fingers moved to follow the lines, her eyes narrowing as she studied the location. It was near the Princess’ mansion, yet separate—a perfect balance of distance and accessibility. Her pulse quickened as realization dawned: the house was situated just above the tunnel entrance leading to the inner city, near both the Vaelorian Emperor’s palace and the Regis mansion. A strategic haven cloaked in subtlety.
Aldric smiled to himself, watching Sylvia study the map as if it were second nature. Women weren’t taught many things, certainly not how to read blueprints and maps, but she moved with quiet confidence. He knew he had chosen a smart woman.
A small smile spread across her face, light and tender. "Four rooms?" she asked, her voice almost a whisper.
"One for us," Aldric answered, "two for six of our children... three boys and three girls."
Sylvia’s eyes went wide in surprise. "Six?" she breathed. "I’m thirty-two... I don’t think—"
"I’m talented," Aldric interjected with confidence, his smile widening. "If we begin immediately, we’ll manage."
Her face flushed deeply, and she covered it with her hands, a soft giggle escaping. The weight of reality softened by his charm.
"I’ll leave the decorating to you," he continued, "and I’ll take you to the marketplace. You handle the rest."
Sylvia peeked from behind her hands, her eyes meeting his. The happiness in his gaze was undeniable, radiating through the dim room like a quiet beacon. She regretted waiting so long to accept him, though now, with everything laid before her, she knew there was still time.
Her voice trembled but carried truth. "I love you, Aldric."
He pulled her close, his arms encircling her waist as his lips pressed softly to her forehead. "I love you too."
In that moment, with parchment and plan between them, the flickering candlelight witnessed their unspoken vow, a promise of shared life, of enduring devotion, and of a future they would build together, one day, one step at a time.
Meanwhile, Leroy walked into Lorraine’s bedchambers, expecting her to be still asleep. He wanted to wake her up to make her eat something.
But when he entered...