Prologue
“You’re here again?”
Isla, the flower shop owner, recognized Eleanor and greeted her with a bright smile. Since Eleanor stopped by the shop without fail once a week to buy flowers, she was a valued regular customer in Isla’s eyes.
“Would you like the white crocuses again?”
Isla asked as she wiped her wet hands on her apron.
“No, I’m thinking of buying different flowers today.”
Eleanor’s response made Isla widen her eyes in surprise. It was an unexpected answer. Around this time of year, Eleanor always asked for white crocuses. When asked where she was planning to place them, she always said they were for decorating her bedside table.
“What’s the occasion?”
Isla asked, clearly surprised. Eleanor gave a faint smile.
“It’s time I changed my mind.”
Isla tilted her head at the cryptic reply. But soon, she smiled as usual. She simply figured Eleanor’s tastes had changed. After all, it wasn’t like she wasn’t buying anything—so whatever it was, it was good news for her.
“Then what kind of flowers would you like today?”
“Narcissus, please.”
At Eleanor’s answer, Isla cheerfully replied, “Sure!” and quickly turned around. While Eleanor waited briefly near the entrance, Isla wrapped a neatly arranged bouquet of narcissus in paper.
“Are you heading straight back to the mansion?”
“I should. Looks like it’s going to rain soon.”
“I thought so too—my knees started aching the moment I woke up.”
Isla groaned about her aching joints. Eleanor took the bouquet from Isla and paid for the flowers.
“But where’s the maid who always accompanies you? The Duke will scold you for going out alone.”
Logan Claven, Duke of Claven, was known for being overly protective of Eleanor—not just once or twice. At least, everyone who lived near the Claven mansion knew that.
It all started when, despite opposition from his household, he declared that he would make Eleanor Hudson—once a fallen noble—into Eleanor Claven. The first thing he did was make her his fiancée, and then surrounded her with his own people so that no one could act carelessly around her.
So much so that even his stepmother, Cindy Claven, who used to torment Eleanor, became the talk of the town after getting severely reprimanded by the Duke.
“He’s not that kind of man.”
Eleanor smiled with a clear expression. Isla almost said that Eleanor was probably the only one who thought so—but stopped herself. If what the Duke wanted was to preserve Eleanor just the way she was, then Isla feared speaking out might bring her trouble.
“I’ll get going now, Isla.”
At first glance, Eleanor had a plain and forgettable appearance. But the more you looked, the more she exuded a pure charm—pale, translucent skin, ash-gray eyes, and long golden hair. Her only vivid feature—her richly colored lips—combined with the Claven family’s wealth, made her beauty complete. Lately, other women were even trying to imitate her.
They said doing so might let you be loved like in a dream by men. It seemed impossible without Eleanor’s face and aura, but surprisingly, quite a few believed it.
“Take care on your way, Eleanor.”
Isla, ever the perfect merchant, sent Eleanor off with a pleasant smile. A spring raindrop fell with a soft plop onto the dirt road where Eleanor had left her footprints.
“Sorry I’m late.”
“Taking a bath at this hour? You must’ve gotten caught in the rain while out.”
Logan gave Eleanor a brief glance as he guessed the reason. Eleanor, unable to lie, smiled awkwardly. Behind her, her personal maid Rosie bowed her head in guilt, clearly anticipating some scolding later.
“Let’s eat before it gets cold.”
Logan gestured toward Eleanor’s plate as he spoke.
“I went out to buy flowers.”
“Did you now?”
Instead of picking up her cutlery, Eleanor explained where she had been. Logan responded gently. But even though the steak—cooked just the way he liked—sat untouched, and he kept swirling his wine absentmindedly, it was clear his mind was elsewhere.
“I bought narcissus today.”
The flower’s meaning: To return one’s love.
Logan’s hand stopped swirling the wine glass. Eleanor cautiously met his aquamarine eyes, which seemed to pierce right through her.
“Today is the last day of the three years I promised Usher.”
There was no longer a reason to avoid his gaze.
“I’ve decided to finally accept it.”
“…”
“That Usher died three years ago on the battlefield.”
Eleanor bit her trembling lip. At the same moment, Logan set his wine glass down on the table.
Clack.
The soft sound echoed loudly in the dining room.
“What you just said—may I interpret it as I wish?”
Logan licked his lips and asked carefully. Eleanor gave a small nod. He stared at her in a daze, then came to his senses and chuckled as he rubbed his forehead.
“Do you even understand what I mean by interpreting it my way?”
He asked. His voice was calm as usual, but there was an intense heat beneath it. This was the moment he had long awaited and deeply desired.
“…Yes.”
At Eleanor’s gentle answer, Logan suddenly stood up. The servants who had been waiting to serve them all turned their eyes to him in shock.
“No one is to follow us.”
Logan said as he grabbed Eleanor by the wrist and pulled her to her feet. As she was led upstairs, Eleanor’s face showed a mixture of surprise and confusion.
“Everyone must be shocked…”
But before she could finish her sentence, the bedroom door shut behind them, and Logan immediately pulled her into his arms. Surprised, Eleanor reflexively tried to push him away—but stopped. She was the one who had told him he could interpret things as he wished, knowing how deeply he desired her.
“That doesn’t matter right now, Eleanor.”
“…”
“None of that matters anymore.”
Logan whispered, his warm lips brushing the nape of her neck where he had buried his face. They were that close. Eleanor involuntarily shivered at the heat radiating from his solid body against her palms.
“If this isn’t what you intended, then say so now. Right now.”
Logan’s low voice growled, brimming with tension. Even though his body screamed how much he wanted her, he acted as if he could still back off with just one word from her. Despite having waited for so long.
It would be a lie to say there was no hesitation at all. But she didn’t want to torment the man who had waited three long years with lingering regrets.
“Ellie, if I don’t return after three years even when the war ends… if I can’t come back…”
“Usher!”
“Then it means I’ve died. Or I’m too crippled to return. So don’t wait. Live your life.”
The man she once loved had already died in the war. It was Logan who had brought her the devastating news with such sorrow on his face. It was time to accept it.
“Call me Ellie from now on.”
“…”
“Logan.”
Eleanor raised her hand to gently cup Logan’s jaw and whispered.
“Ellie…”
Tears shimmered in Logan’s aquamarine eyes, filled with emotion. He carefully lowered his head. Eleanor felt his face drawing closer and slowly closed her eyes.
His arms wrapped around her waist, his breath warmed her lips, and finally, his lips touched hers—both trembling.
It was their first kiss.
At last, Eleanor parted her lips. Until that moment, Logan had hesitated, but as soon as he felt her response, he surged forward.
Like the soldier he was—never missing a single moment of vulnerability—he devoured her passionately, stealing her breath. His hand cradled her head as it tilted back under the pressure of his kiss.
“Your Grace.”
It was then. The butler knocked urgently on the door, calling for Logan. Logan, unable to completely ignore him, broke the kiss.
Their lips parted reluctantly, still tingling with heat. But as if he couldn’t let her go completely, their foreheads remained pressed together.
“I said no one was to follow us.”
Logan’s voice was filled with irritation. The butler apologized repeatedly, clearly embarrassed. Only then did Eleanor notice the heavy rain tapping against the windows. Tap. Tap. It had been so intense, so consuming, she hadn’t even realized the storm outside.
Yet Logan’s firm arms still held her tightly. At a distance where their lips could meet again at any moment, Eleanor met his gaze awkwardly.
Surely a gentleman like him wouldn’t…
And yet, Logan felt more like a wild beast leaning in to bite her neck.
“A very important guest has arrived…”
“What, did the king himself come?”
Logan muttered sarcastically, glancing at Eleanor’s lips once more.
“Sir Usher—Usher Fitzman—has arrived.”
A flash of lightning lit up the room.
An unexpected name she thought she’d never hear again brought time to a halt.
That was an odd and jarring transition. Were the two chapters maybe supposed to be swapped in order?