Chapter 14

"What do you suspect he wants?" Virtue asked Lucy as they hastened through the corridors of Greystone Castle.

"Your guess is as good as mine," Lucy replied, her tone laden with as much curiosity as Virtue herself felt. "But knowing how the last few days have been going, it cannot possibly be anything good."

"I'm sure it is nothing too dire," she reassured.

Lucy shuddered. "It has gotten so bad that I have taken to bolting my door each night before I sleep. This entire castle…" She glanced about them and shuddered again. "It's like something out of a Gothic tale."

Virtue offered her friend a dismissive look, a shake of the head, and an eye roll for good measure. She only wished that Lucy was exaggerating, but she knew her maid well enough to know that in this instance, the fear was genuine. The castle and her husband, Sebastian, indeed had formidable presences, and while Virtue believed there was more to them than their frightful exterior suggested, she could not fault Lucy for her apprehension.

She was certain that Sebastian was angry with her too. After the… confrontation a few nights ago, he had likely spent the days avoiding her, perhaps fearful of what he might say or do. Maybe he had even spent it conceiving a punishment worthy of her? One that would finally put her in her place.

Although… she also could not stop thinking about that kiss. It had only lasted a moment, and she had cut it short by foolishly trying to unfasten his mask. The way he had thrown her back and snarled at her still made her hair stand up on end. But that kiss, the lingering feel on her lips, there was something there. A desire that they both felt, she was sure. One that she wondered deep down if he might be tempted to explore.

Curiously, even now, the notion of being summoned for a reprimand did not instill the dread it perhaps should have. In a way, she almost yearned for it—for him to call her into his study or bedchamber and reprimand her properly. She did not believe Sebastian capable of true harm toward her, for such brutality seemed contrary to his nature. Rather, she suspected that he would try and intimidate her again, that he would let his anger flair and expect her to be submissive. He had the potential to be terrifying when he wanted, and where a small part of her did indeed fear this side of him, another, more significant part of her was inexplicably drawn to it, much like a moth to a flame.

"…And we have arrived," Lucy frowned as they halted outside the bedchamber. "Good luck, V."

Virtue swallowed hard, her apprehension mounting. "Are you certain he asked me to see him here?" She eyed the closed door warily, suddenly feeling very nervous, heart pounding in her chest.

Lucy shrugged, holding up three fingers as she knocked one down for each point she was to make. "His Grace's butler, Mr. Albion Merchant, instructed me to fetch you at once. He also mentioned His Grace would be taking his bath before supper. And his washroom is located inside his chambers. So I believe so, yes."

"Perhaps he meant for me to wait until supper?" Her eyes flicked to the heavy oak door again. "I think I should wait."

"And risk angering His Grace further?" Lucy pointed out. "Are you sure it is worth it, V?"

This must have been some sort of test. That was the only explanation. A means of seeing if Virtue would do as he asked without question, even if that something was as unlike her husband as she could have imagined. Until now, he had been both reticent around her and angry. He had shied away from her when he was in control of himself, and lashed out when his temper flared. A coin with two sides, both as different as the sun is to the moon.

Between those sides, however, Virtue had sensed something more. A few nights ago, amidst their heated confrontation, when he had seized her by the arm and borne down on her, there had been a fleeting moment when terror had transformed into desire, and anger to temptation. He had met her eyes, she had met his, and for the briefest heartbeat, she had wondered if he had wanted her the way a husband should want a wife.

Is that why he invited her to his bedchamber… or rather, the clearer—implication, his washroom? Could it be that he finally willed to have her, to truly claim her as his wife in every sense? The thought was both thrilling and terrifying.... and yet just the idea of it was enough to strengthen Virtue's resolve and have her reaching for the door...

"Good luck," Lucy whispered as the door cracked open and Virtue stepped inside.

Gathering her composure, Virtue navigated the mist-shrouded bedchamber, her fingertips brushing along the rich mahogany furniture for guidance. She approached the adjoining washroom door with a tentative grace, the sound of water and the scent of sandalwood growing stronger. With a deep breath, she opened the door to Sebastian's washroom.

Thick, warm steam billowed over her such that she could barely see. "…Your Grace?" she called out softly as she tried to make out the room before her.

"Who goes there?" Sebastian barked.

"Vir—Virtue," she stammered as the door shut behind her. "You asked to see me?"

As her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, the room remained veiled in a dense, steamy fog that danced around the flickering lanterns on the walls. At the heart of the mist, she made out the silhouette of a large tub, and the unmistakable figure of her husband within it.

"What are you doing in here?" His voice, deep and commanding, echoed off the ceramic walls. Except, it was tinged with a note of surprise.

"You asked to see me?" Virtue's response was almost a whisper, halted in place by the unexpectedly sensual scene. The silhouette of his exposed, powerful form enveloped in the warm mist sent a thrilling shiver down her spine, her breath catching.

"I did not," he snapped.

"I am afraid you are mistaken," she said bravely. "Albion told Lucy you wished to see me?"

Sebastian groaned, the sound resonating within her eardrums. "I meant to inquire if you would be joining me for supper, not to be sought out while I bathed."

"Oh..." Her words trailed off as she stood rooted to the spot, intending to leave, but finding her body unwilling to respond. Alone in the washroom, the air thick with steam and the undeniable presence of her naked husband only feet away... Should she seize the moment? Was it upon her to close the ever-growing chasm between them? "I-I am sorry, I must have misunderstood."

No response. A silence instead, one that was as heavy as the clouds that gathered between them. Realizing her mistake—or perhaps the unintended opportunity it presented—she could not help but let her gaze wander.

Standing barely ten feet away from Sebastian, she peered through the clearing steam, her gaze sharpening as the contours of his form in the tub became crystallized before her. The sight of his bare, sculpted arms, muscles rippling beneath the skin, drew a silent gasp from her. His hair, dark and lustrous, was slick with water, trailing sensuously down his back and shoulders, with droplets catching the dim light like tiny stars. Her fingertips tingled at what his firm body might feel beneath them. The scene, pulsing with an unexpected sensuality, ignited a thrilling heat within her core, awakening desires she had never felt toward any other man before.

And his face... although obscured, she knew he was not wearing his mask. For the first time, he was utterly vulnerable. Despite the situation, or perhaps because of it, her curiosity burned fiercely—she longed to see him fully, to know the man without his usual armor. She needed to see him, truly see him, in this unguarded moment… all of him. Butterflies cavorted in her stomach at what that might entail.

"I can leave," she whispered softly, her body betraying her, inching a step closer to the edge of the tub where he bathed.

"I—" He paused, the hesitation clear in his voice. "It is fine. I should have been more clear."

"I have not seen you in days," she pressed gently. "You were out?"

"I was."

"Wh-where did you go?"

"Personal business. Nothing important." His replies were terse, clipped, leaving her uncertain whether he was cloaked in irritation or veiled nervousness.

"Oh." Another step closer, still positioned behind him. Slowly, she edged to her left, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face. Now, his well-built back came into full view, tapering down to a narrow waist, guarded by fiercely muscular arms. "Nothing bad, I hope?" she choked.

He did not respond right away, and she could sense from his muscles how tense he was, how unsure. But then again, that was normal. The two sides of the same coin, vicious or meek. It was as if they were doing battle right before her eyes, trying to decide which one to show.

She moved again, another delicate step forward and to the left, edging ever so closer—

Suddenly, he shifted in the bathtub, turning slightly. She instinctively stepped to the right, her breath catching. "I have been thinking about what you said that night."

"Wh-what I said?"

"About the gardens," he clarified. "You mentioned that you were considering renovations?"

"I am..." Her heart was beating furiously as she came to within three feet of him. So near now that she felt if she peered over, she might even catch a glimpse beyond his shoulders, into the water, and to the rest of him...

"That seems quite the endeavor for one person." He dropped his arms from the edge of the tub into the water, as if he could sense where her thoughts lingered. Her cheeks flushed, as though she had been caught red-handed.

"It is," she breathed, her voice tinged with a slight tremor. "But I have the time, and I think I might rather enjoy working on your musc—" she clamped a hand over her mouth. "The castle, I mean. It could—it could use some life."

He chuckled softly at that, his breath evaporating in the steam-filled washroom. "Indeed, it could."

A brief silence fell between them again, thick with unspoken words and so much more. Virtue seized the moment to shift slightly to her left, each step careful and cautious as she slowly circled the tub. For each measured footfall, she gained a better view of him—the faint silhouette of his powerful legs became visible just beneath the water now, and it took everything in her not to stare. But the side of his face, with each proceeding step, it came further and further into view...

"But you should not have to undertake such a project alone," he spoke suddenly, again shifting his position in the tub, turning slightly away from her. "Tomorrow, I shall journey to the local parish and hire some assistance. A team, at your disposal."

This announcement startled Virtue into silence. "You—you will?"

"Does that please you?" Again, nerves tinged his voice as if worried she might disapprove.

For a moment, Virtue forwent her task of trying to catch a glimpse of Sebastian's naked face. Rather, she stared at him, surprised by the man whom she had married... at least this side of him. Not the actions of a savage brute, but a kind, even gentle man who was going out of his way to please her. Could it be that he had spent the past days devising this plan? Was this why he had been absent?

"Well?" he growled.

"It does," she said quickly, only to realize something, and then speak it before she had a chance to catch herself. "Although..."

"Although?" He moved to twist around in the tub, his giant muscles undulating slowly in the steam and halting him at the last moment.

She hesitated, wondering if she should push. He had offered her an olive branch, and she knew she should have taken it. Only, Virtue couldn't shake the memory of their confrontation a few nights prior—his raw, unguarded reaction when challenged. Yes, he had been furious, his grip tight and his presence towering, reminiscent of a lion towering over its catch. But in that rawness, she glimpsed the real Sebastian.

In fact, the only times that she sensed she had met her real husband was when his anger spiked. When he was no longer afraid to be himself, no longer careful and overthinking everything he said. It wasn't that she favored his temper; rather, she yearned to bridge the gap between this fierce authenticity and his gentler demeanor. The confident, dominant version of her husband who took charge, but also had it within himself to be gentle when it came to her.

"Although," Virtue began again, swallowing the lump in her throat. "I had thought it might be rather nice if... if we could undertake the task together."

"What?"

"The garden," she pressed boldly. "I am truly grateful for your offer, I assure you. But do you not think it could be an endeavor we share? After all, you will enjoy the fruits of our labor as much as I, will you not?"

"I—" He paused, and for a moment, she feared she had overstepped. Gardening was hardly considered the province of a Duke, so why should she ask her husband to undertake a task so beneath his station? But then, he surprised her once more. "I think I would like that."

Virtue noticed a subtle shift in his demeanor. He seemed to sit a little straighter in the tub, more at ease. It was almost as if he was battling with himself not to turn around, as if for the first time, he desired her to see him as he truly was.

"I am glad," she beamed, wishing he could see it. "Truly, I look forward to it."

"As do I," he replied, his tone sincere.

About to dismiss herself with a promise of seeing him at supper, Virtue's gaze inadvertently swept past his back to the wall beyond the tub. There, leaning inconspicuously against the wall, was a full-length mirror. The steam from the bath fogged its surface, but not so heavily that it obscured the reflection within. Her eyes were drawn irresistibly to the glass, traveling down its length… and that was when she saw it.

She gasped silently and tore her eyes away, stumbling back as if she had been struck.

"Is everything alright?" Sebastian half-turned, but then seemed to think better of it.

"Y-yes, it's fine," she stammered, her voice unsteady as she retreated from the tub. "Will you be joining me for supper?"

"Of course. I look forward to it."

"Me too," she said a little too quickly as she absently reached for the door handle, throwing it open. "I shall see you then."

"And I shall see—"

She hurried through the washroom door, and not a moment later, burst through the bedchamber door too, slamming it shut behind her. Leaning back against it, her heart pounded furiously in her chest, and her breath came in quick, sharp gasps. Her body was flushed with a heat that had nothing to do with the steamy warmth of the bath she had just left—rather, it stemmed entirely from what she had just seen.

"Well?" Lucy's voice broke through her thoughts, causing Virtue to jump a little. "What did he want?"

Virtue found herself unable to respond. Her thoughts were still back in that room, on that reflection, her first real glimpse of her husband's face.

That face... it was nowhere near as dreadful as she had braced herself for. It was not grotesque, nor hideous, nor anything monstrous as she might have feared. To her astonishment, it was handsome… as handsome as she could have hoped, a visage that surely did not deserve to be veiled behind a mask. He was not a monster, neither in temperament nor in appearance. The mask was merely a shield, a barrier he used to hide his true self out of fear.

But his real self was what she desired, now more than ever. She remembered her stories, those of the prince rescuing the princesses, a story she thought herself trapped in only to realize suddenly that she had it all wrong. In this story, unlike those from her childhood, it was the prince who needed rescuing.

He was not the creature he believed himself to be, and all she needed was a chance to remove that mask he wore. Finally then might she see the real man concealed beneath.