Chapter 17

Sebastian found he was not nearly as nervous to see Virtue as he might have been once, but that shouldn't have been too surprising. After the last few days they had spent together, he no longer worried about what he might say or how he might act. He no longer feared his temper and what might happen if it was tested. This marriage, and his relationship with Virtue, was beginning to feel natural and real in ways he had previously thought impossible.

How had it happened? He supposed Virtue was to thank for that.

Sebastian had known how stubborn she could be, and these last five days had proven it resolutely. Refusing to give up on him, she had cleverly used the garden renovation as a daily meeting point, a neutral ground where they could talk openly without the usual pressures. At first, Sebastian was sure it would end in disaster. He feared his other side would resurface, scaring her away for good. But day after day, she returned, each time easing a bit more of the tension, chipping away at the walls he had built around himself.

Now, reflecting on the past week, Sebastian was beginning to see himself differently.

Perhaps his friends had been wrong about him? Perhaps he'd been wrong about himself? Perhaps he wasn't the monster that he had spent the last decade convincing himself he was? Or perhaps, most likely, it had just taken the right person to bring out a side of him that he had thought died in the war with his closest friend...

As Sebastian sat waiting in the dining room, he noticed movement at the doorway and expected to see Virtue. He had made a habit of arriving early to supper these past evenings, cherishing the opportunity to rise and admire his wife—something about the way she blushed when he complimented her brought a warmth to his evenings. She seemed to delight in the whole ritual too, sheepishly meeting his gaze, her smile lighting up the room as she would settle across from him, a few seats closer each evening.

This time, however, it was not Virtue who graced the room.

"Miss Reid?" Sebastian's brows furrowed in confusion at the sight of the maid lingering by the door, her fingers nervously twisting the edge of her apron. A clear sign of her unease, which was hardly surprising given the way even the long-term staff seemed perpetually on edge around him. He tried for a smile to break the tension. "Is Virtue not joining me this evening?"

"I am afraid not, Your Grace."

"Pardon?" Sebastian felt his blood spike, but he took a deep breath, reminding himself to stay calm. Surely, there was a rational explanation here. "What do you mean she won't be joining me?"

He hadn't given it too much thought but suddenly, all he could think about was Lord Prescott's presence earlier that day. He believed Virtue when she said she didn't know why he had appeared all of a sudden, but that didn't mean she didn't enjoy it. He could not help but wonder if seeing her former suitor had stirred old affections. Reminded her of what she might be missing? Or worse, made her question her decision to marry him?

"Oh, nothing like that, Your Grace," Miss Reid hurried to explain as she fidgeted nervously with her hands. "But she has lost track of time and try as I might, I simply could not pull her away from her book."

"She is reading?" Sebastian said blankly.

The maid nodded her head. "That is correct. She was absorbed, Your Grace. So much so that when I tried to remind her of supper, she snapped at me."

Sebastian did not even think to be infuriated, as might have been his reaction not so long ago. No. He was too stunned for that! Was Virtue being serious? Was she really about to skip one of the few private times they shared with one another over a book? He could scarcely believe it. After all the effort she had gone through this past week to bring the two closer together, this felt... it felt, frankly, like a slap in the face.

And still, Lord Prescott hovered in his mind's eye…

"Would you please inform Her Grace that I await her presence for supper, and that she may return to her book afterward." He spoke slowly and calmly, convinced that this must be some sort of misunderstanding.

"Per—perhaps it would be more effective if you were to relay your message personally, Your Grace?" The maid could not have sounded more terrified.

"Pardon?" he snarled.

She swallowed. "When I attempted to relay the message earlier, she... she did not heed me. But perhaps, coming from you—"

"I gave you a command," Sebastian muttered carefully.

"Yes, yes, and I understand!" She swallowed again. "But I know Virtue—Her Grace," she quickly corrected. "I know Her Grace well enough to know that she will not heed my words. It will have to come from you."

Sebastian's temper simmered just beneath the surface. It was the last thing he wanted to do. His sense of feeling slighted only grew as he mulled over the situation, but at the same time, he knew if he went to confront his wife... it might undo all the hard work he had put in this week. That was all it took, a harsh word, a moment of anger, a confrontation that could spiral out of control. Not something he wanted to do but if he found her sitting in the library reading, and if she dared to tell him that she would rather read than join him, Sebastian couldn't be sure how he might react.

He glanced at the table, taking a deep breath, trying to steady his nerves. When he looked up again, the maid was nowhere in sight.

Perhaps he should just leave Virtue alone tonight? If she wanted to read, so be it. It might be wise to let the matter rest for the night, to approach her in the morning when his temper had cooled.

Yet, he hesitated.

It was weak and cowardly, and not a precedent he cared to set. At the end of the day, she was his wife, after all, and dining together should not be too grand a request.

No, if Sebastian wanted her here, she should be here. It was as simple as that. After all, he would undoubtedly do the same for her, or at the very least, have the decency to explain his decision in person before reneging on a commitment.

Taking a deep breath, he rose from the table and started across the dining room. His steps carried him through the foyer and down the empty halls toward the library. The sound of his footsteps reverberated off the stone floors, bouncing against the walls before being swallowed by the castle's pervasive silence. The flickering lanterns cast dancing shadows on the walls in time with his each step, and his heart thundered as his breathing quickened. And all the while, he reproached himself to remain calm.

He noticed the library doors standing wide open from down the hall. Beyond, a soft glow of light hinted at a presence within. Now, he was certain—she was there.

And indeed, when Sebastian rounded the corner and walked into the grand library, he spied his wife immediately. Although, not in the way he might have anticipated.

There she was, not nestled in a chair with a book, but rather, seated seductively on the floor. A blanket was elegantly spread beneath her, arranged with an assortment of inviting foods—meats, breads, perhaps cheeses—and a bottle of sweet brandy, its aroma faintly mingling with the scent of old books. A three-pronged candelabrum stood nearby, its light casting its surroundings in an ethereal glow. But that light was nothing compared to that which lit up her visage as she spotted him and beamed.

"There you are," Virtue sighed. "I was beginning to wonder if you might come."

Sebastian paused at the doorway, momentarily taken aback. "Wh-what is all this?"

"What does it look like?" she chuckled, rising to her feet. She was draped in a breathtaking gown of pure white, the fabric so sheer it resembled a whisper against her skin. The gown hugged her curves languidly, flowing around her body like mist. As she faced him, the candelabrum illuminated the delicate material, rendering it almost translucent. Its ethereal light traced the sumptuous contours of her hips, breasts, and thighs in a daring display, leaving outstandingly little to the imagination.

Sebastian found himself at a loss for words, coyly hiding the bulge growing in his breeches, and managing only, "It looks like a picnic."

"Close enough," she giggled, extending her tiny hand toward him invitingly. "I thought we might do something different tonight. If it pleases you?"

"Something... different?" he repeated, trying not to stare.

She rolled her eyes playfully and gestured for him to join her. "Yes, something different."

These past five days had seen a change take over Sebastian when speaking with his wife. Although he remained cautious about his temper, he was no longer the tense, uneasy man that he had been. Spending ample time with Virtue, he had relearned how to engage comfortably with people, and the two had developed a repartee that he was used to by now, as her jibes and jokes did not spike his anger as they once had.

Only, now, taking Virtue in as if seeing her for the first time, Sebastian found himself regressing back to the early days of their relationship.

That damned dress. The way it hung from her curves, it was as if she wore nothing at all! The thin material outlined the gentle swell of her bosom, her nipples subtly pressing through its fabric. Her scent wafted towards him too, sweet and intoxicating, making his mouth water with a visceral hunger. His blood surged, a heated rush flowing intensely through his legs and loins, as his eyes refused to behave themselves.

"What do you think?" she smiled, her voice a soft enticement.

Sebastian swallowed. "I think... I think the dining room might be a more comfortable setting."

She looked at him flatly. "I suspected you might say that, so..." She glanced over his shoulder and subtly nodded, which had Sebastian turning around just in time to see the large doors swing shut.

His eyes widened in astonishment. He rushed to the doors, hauling at them, only to find them immovably sealed. "What is the meaning of this?!"

"You fell right into my trap." She placed a hand elegantly on her hip and lifted a brow in amusement. "And quite frankly, it was easier than I had conceived."

"Your trap?" He spun around to face her again. "What trap? What are you plotting?"

"Plotting? To have supper with you, of course!" she replied with a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

"As we were going to," he pointed out, a quick glance at the locked doors, a hint of panic now creeping up inside of him. "Please, if you will just join me in the dining room, we can–"

"No."

"No?!" He balked at her curt response. "What do you mean, no?! I demand whoever is at the other side of that door to unlock it at once!" He strode toward her with the force of a tempest. "And I demand that you—"

"You may issue as many commands as you please." She stood firm, chin raised. If she was afraid at all, she masked it rather well, meeting his gaze squarely. "But the doors shall remain sealed until we have dined."

Sebastian halted just short of her. Towering above her now, she stood resolute as ever. He could feel the familiar stirrings of rage beginning to surface within him, and his voice came out in a strained whisper. "Please..." He spoke stiffly. "Open the doors, Virtue. I do not do well in enclosed spaces with others."

"No."

He clenched his jaw tightly. "Believe me, Virtue, it is for your own good."

"And it is for your own good if for once, you listened to your wife," she chided lightly.

It wasn't that Sebastian feared being alone with Virtue. It was that he feared what might happen if there was nowhere for her to run. He had struggled before, moments where his anger seemed to act of its own accord—a stark reminder of battles both internal and external that left scars too deep to see. The thought of such a moment occurring again, with Virtue having no means to retreat, chilled him to the bone.

"I am not afraid of you," she whispered, her voice soothing and her eyes gentle upon him.

"You should be," he replied through gritted teeth, forcing himself to relax, which he was doing now, if only just.

"Is that what you want?"

"What? No, of course not." He met her gaze directly, earnestly, his expression softening to show that his outburst was not born of anger but of deep-seated concern. "But that does not mean you shouldn't be."

She shook her head lightly, a faint, sultry smile playing on her lips. "You think yourself quite dangerous and fearsome, do you not?"

"I am."

She laughed softly. "Well, you really are not. Though you may play the part well, I see beyond the fa?ade, Sebastian. You may be quick to anger, indeed, but a monster? A beast that devours children who get too close to his castle? Hardly."

"I—"

"Enough of that." She reached down and took his hand, and where he thought to pull it back, strangely, her gentle touch soothed him in a way he hadn't expected it to. "We are dining here tonight, and that is final." She raised an eyebrow, her resolve clear.

Despite his reservations, Sebastian found himself finally relenting. "…All right. I suppose that for one night, I can try to manage."

"See, was that so difficult?" Virtue giggled.

"You have no idea," he returned.

Still clasping his hand, Virtue guided him to the blanket spread out on the library floor. They settled across from each other, the room around them softly illuminated by candles, creating an intimate enclave removed from the rest of the world. It was the most vulnerable Sebastian had felt since their wedding night, but as he looked into his wife's eyes—eyes alight with warmth and fondness—he felt a reassuring calm wash over him.

For Virtue, if nothing else.