RVMPT Chapter 130

Chapter 130

In the midst of their long kiss, the holy power flowing into Harold ceased.

…It’s done.

Diana instinctively knew the healing was complete. Still, she wanted to see with her own eyes that Harold was better.

She lowered her arms from around his neck and stepped one foot back.

Their lips began to part, a thin strand of saliva stretching between them—when Harold suddenly tightened his grip around her waist and pulled her close.

Their mouths pressed together even deeper.

“Mm—?!”

Heat traced along her palate, and Diana, startled, swallowed the saliva gathered in her mouth. The faint metallic taste—already diluted—slid down her throat.

Eyes wide, she looked at him as if to protest; his navy eyes smiled slyly like a fox.

She balled a fist and lightly thumped his arm. At last, he let their lips separate—slowly licking her lower lip to break the strand, then running his tongue over his own lips before straightening up.

Hoofbeats approached, rapid and growing louder.

“Your Grace! My lady!”

Evan reined in his horse in front of them.

“Your Grace! My lady!”

Seeing them, his voice broke as he tumbled off the horse.
“Goodness! Are you both all right? Sniff— You’re both covered in blood—sniff!”

“Evan, did you come alone?” Harold asked.

“Yes! Sniff. I checked the time and thought my lady’s power must be returning, so I said I could perform first aid and rode ahead. And now… hic the treatment—it’s finished, right?”

“Yes. All done.”

“Thank goodness—thank goodness…! Waaah!”

At Harold’s assurance, Evan burst into sobs he’d been holding back.

Diana glanced at the arrow on the ground. The moment her power returned, she had pulled it from Harold’s back herself.

“If you came first, the others will be here soon,” Harold said.

“Waaah…” Evan nodded through tears.

“In that case… Diana, pardon me for a moment.”

“Harold?”

He swept her up and set her on Evan’s horse.

“I’ll borrow this for a bit, Evan.”

“Waaah…?”

Harold whipped off Evan’s cloak and wrapped it around Diana. Then he mounted behind her and took the reins.

“I’ll see you back at the estate,” he said.

“S-sniff! Y-Your Grace…?”

Ignoring Evan’s bewildered call, Harold set the horse in motion.

Cold air kissed their cheeks as they rode. From various directions came joyful shouts.

“His Highness Prince Andrew has defeated the demon and captured the witch!”

“Long live the Prince!”

Harold cut across a shortcut, leaving the imperial city and heading straight for the ducal mansion.

Guards at the estate spotted them and hurried to swing the great arched gates open. As they glided inward, Diana’s eyes widened.

The entire household staff stood outside to greet them, the butler at their head.

“Welcome home. We’ve been waiting for your return the whole time.”

Harold dismounted first and helped Diana down.

She stood on solid ground and took in their faces. As the butler said, they looked like they’d been waiting outside for ages—their faces and hands were bright red from the cold.

She suddenly remembered how everyone had suffered together when Harold had been arrested for treason, and her chest grew tight and warm.

Anna scurried up to her, eyes watery.
“My lady, welcome back. Sniff. Shall I prepare hot bathwater right away?”

“Yes, please.”

“Hurry inside, my lady—you must be freezing.”

“I will. And thank you, everyone, for your hard work. It’s cold—go in quickly.”

With that, Diana tugged Harold by the wrist and strode into the house.

“Diana…?” he said, brow lifting, but she kept up her brisk pace. Feeling the firm grip on his wrist, Harold obediently let himself be led.

Diana ducked into the nearest empty room.

Click. Back pressed to the closed door, she told him,
“Harold, take your clothes off. No—just stay still.”

Her patience for waiting was already gone. She yanked off his coat, then went at the rest of his clothes with urgent hands; the buttons wouldn’t cooperate.

“I’ll do it,” he said.

The clothes were in rags anyway; with a light rip, he tore them away. They fell to the floor with a thud, revealing broad shoulders and a well-cut torso.

Diana blinked at the shredded fabric, then refocused and examined his chest and back.

The arrow hit here, right?

Dried blood made it hard to see whether the wound had closed. She hesitated, then pressed gently with her hand. Her cold fingers—chilled from being outdoors—made him flinch for a beat.

“Ah—sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“…Can I touch a bit more? I want to make sure it healed properly.”

“Does a wife need permission to touch her husband? As much as you like.”

Buoyed by his answer, she grew bolder, running her hands over his torso to check.

He twitched now and then, but she was so focused she didn’t notice.

With her palm resting on his chest, she swallowed rising tears.

There was no snag beneath her fingertips. Everything had healed clean.

…Thank goodness.

At last, she could let go of her fear. She smiled, relief softening her face.

“Thanks for going along with me so suddenly. Harold, you must feel gross—go wash up. I’ll go bathe too.”

She turned to leave, but he caught her.

“There’s still somewhere you haven’t checked.”

“Huh?”

Puzzled, she half-turned back, and he stepped in close.

“Not just the top. You should check below, too.”

“…!”

“Below… feels like it hurts.”

Something firm pressed against her back; she sucked in a breath. She couldn’t possibly mistake where it hurt.

Heat rushed through her from head to toe. He’d seemed fine when they shared the saddle—when had this happened…?

He gathered her pink hair in his hand and draped it over one shoulder.

His cool fingertips brushed her heated skin; the lips pressing to her nape were hot. The contrast sent more heat coiling low in her belly.

Is this man even aware he almost died just now?

With certainty: not even an eyeball’s worth.

Holy power heals injuries, not fatigue. Precisely because of that, one of them had to keep a clear head.

Diana wetted her dry lips, squeezed her eyes shut, then opened them.

“Shouldn’t we both go bathe now? We’re… pretty dirty.”

“We can bathe together,” he said.

She swallowed. “Just… bathe?”

“Mm. Just bathe,” he answered, mouth curving into a long arc. His strong arm cinched her waist; his big hand pressed suggestively over her lower belly.

…Her suspicion only grew.

“No. You promised not to get even a hair hurt, and you broke it. So today I’m not granting what you want.”

“Promise, hmm…”

His eyes narrowed.

The navy irises, shaded darker under his lashes, carried a different kind of unsettling energy than before.

“Diana, did you know?”

“…Know what?”

He murmured at her ear, low and intimate.
“I never actually agreed to that promise.”

“What? What do you mean you never—kya!”

Her feet left the floor. He scooped her up with a teasing smile.

“I’ll put you down once you remember, my wife.”

Still holding her, Harold headed straight for the bath.