Chapter 9 #2
And the Wolf was a sight to behold. The Duke was tanned and muscled all over, not soft and pale like some lords. His shoulders were broad. He was obviously strong as he managed to battle with the larger man. Scars lined up as small constellations on his shoulder blade.
The Duke had always been intense, but on the mat, he was mesmerizing. He moved like an animal who was barely tamed, managing not only to use force but also strategy. Her eyes followed how sweat streamed down from his throat to his chest and down his abdomen to—
She placed a hand on her mouth to stifle a gasp. Something else was going on, too. Between her legs, something pulsed. She pressed her thighs together to relieve the sensation but to no avail.
She wanted to see more. Feel more.
The Duke broke through her lustful reverie, swearing aloud as he mustered all his strength to pivot and slam his opponent onto the mat. He stood powerfully over his trainer, his chest heaving.
Then, he turned, as if by instinct, to look out the window. Their eyes met. She knew she could not remain. She did not want to have to admit that at that moment, she wanted to be devoured.
Devoured by the wolf.
The wrestling incident did not leave Daphne’s mind for the rest of the day and the evening. She was embarrassed about being caught spying on him, yes, but she could still also recall the delicious sensation between her legs.
She had never felt anything like it before.
“The Duke looked strong, agile, and handsomer than ever,” she muttered to herself. “You are permitted to find your own husband attractive, Daphne.”
She had never indulged in the urge to mumble to herself, but this instance stood out as a stark contrast from all others that came before. When she had glimpsed her husband, covered in sweat, snarling and grappling with another human being, every one of her senses tingled.
She thought of the way he panted heavily and tossed the sweat-soaked hair out of his eyes and the remembrance caused her heart rate to jump frantically.
Because Daphne did not understand these new feelings, she sought to bury them.
The following morning, something thrilling happened. The world woke up to snowfall. She dressed herself in a simple gown and her thickest coat, suddenly overcome with the urge to feel the snow.
The Duke was already in the main parlor when Daphne ran down the steps to take a better look at the white landscape.
“The first snow of the season,” he murmured, sounding almost reflective. “It makes the estate bearable.”
“Does it?” she wondered aloud. “Was this place intolerable before?”
Daphne walked toward the window beside him. True enough, the scene was magical. The gardens she had just strolled in not too long ago had become white, blanketed by heavy snow. The trees by the forests were decked with snow, as well.
“It’s beautiful,” she agreed. “I miss such days.”
She swore he raised his head to turn toward her, but she would not look at him directly.
Outside, a stable boy scooped some snow to throw at the groom. Soon, they were flinging snow back and forth. She laughed with them, even though she was several meters away, in the warm comfort inside the house.
“I’m going to the village,” Daphne declared, feeling a sense of adventure enveloping her.
Before the Duke could comment, she had already left the house. A short walk would take her to the nearest village, and somehow, passing through the large gates on foot felt satisfying. She seemed like she was in a fairy tale of her own with little flurries of snow falling all around her.
In her case, the wonder was seeing the staff peering at her through the windows, amazed that their master’s proper duchess was walking in the snow, as thrilled as a child would be. Their expressions made her grin more widely. She did feel like a child at that moment.
By the time Daphne was in the village, she was delighted to see some of the locals on the streets, building snowmen.
Such days were really for doing this, and she wished she had that kind of experience as a child.
Well, she did, but only with her dear siblings, and she was fortunate to have many of them.
“Good day!” she greeted cheerfully, startling everyone.
“It’s the Duchess!” one exclaimed, her voice a mixture of fear and awe. Daphne could not believe anyone was receiving her in such a way. She was just a young woman of twenty.
“Good morning, Your Grace!” a few people chorused.
She smiled at them, and said, “I’d like to join.”
“Oh!”
Their expressions relaxed when she said that, and she was ushered into a corner where a small cluster of children had just begun building snowmen and other chilly structures.
“Are you really the Duchess of Wolfcrest?” a boy of about ten asked her, while their hands worked on their new snowmen.
“Andrew, that is rude!” a woman who might just be his mother chided.
“Oh no, ma’am. It is quite all right. I am new to Wolfcrest. So, I can understand that many people do not know me yet.”
“I am not a ma’am,” the woman said, blushing even as she smiled shyly. “Uh, Your Grace.”
“I only wish to show you the respect you deserve,” Daphne explained, as she refocused on her snowman.
The wonderful thing about building snowmen with the children was that they did not care if she was the duchess.
They included her in the activity and did all that was in their power to create the best, sturdiest structures possible.
Daphne marveled at the children for they were still very competitive, even as her noses and cheeks flushed red from the cold and the effort.
As she was trying to shape her snowman’s torso, she heard a few gasps of surprise. A carriage was approaching. Then, the wheels stopped. She looked up in time to see a familiar, tall figure descending the carriage.
The Duke.
“Good day, all,” he said.
He could not help it. His voice held a timber of intimidation. The children near her froze, their gloved hands stilling on their works of art.
“Do not be afraid. It’s just the Duke. He is a kind man,” she reassured them. She believed those words, even as she kept her distance from him and sought to understand his secrets.
The little one named Andrew took the reassurance to the extreme, throwing a snowball at the Duke. Adrian stood as if frozen, widening his eyes. The children looked scared again for a long moment, but the Duke suddenly gave them a silly face and started throwing snowballs at the children, too.
The exchange went back and forth. More snowballs hit the Duke than they ever did the children. In fact, the children were barely grazed with anything. Daphne suspected that he was losing on purpose.
No. Not suspected. She was certain.
The children giggled when he dramatically flung himself onto the snowy ground in defeat. Some even went to him to give him hugs. Daphne’s chest tightened at the sight. It looked like the Duke of Wolfcrest was trying. He really was.
For the next hour, he joined her in a quiet snowman building session. It made Daphne’s heart soar. She was right. It was going to be a good day. She felt that as soon as she saw the snowy gardens.
As a pair, they made their own snowman. The Duke contributed his strength to haul the massive balls of snow and Daphne provided the artistic eye, as she carved the shape and added the features.
“He needs a more serene expression, Your Grace,” Daphne said, as she stepped back with her hands on her hips to admire their handiwork. “He seems too severe, almost ducal.”
He looked back at her, his eyes twinkling at her teasing. He bent to pick up a twig to use it to carve a mischievous grin onto its face.
“There,” he declared, also stepping back to look at what they had so far. “Isn’t that what our Duchess needs? A roguish smile. It is more appropriate.”
For the Wolf, Daphne thought.
It made her remember him bare-chested on the wrestling mat once more and her cheeks warmed. What a sight must she be, red from the cold and her embarrassment.
“Far more appropriate, I suppose,” Daphne agreed, chuckling.
She had not laughed like this in a long time, and she felt lighter for it.
Even the Duke looked younger and happier, with his face relaxed and flushed red from the cold and their momentous efforts.
Despite his reminder to her that he was also the Wolf to be afraid of, he was very human at that given moment.
Suddenly, she had the urge to tease him. She bent and scooped up some snow and tossed a snowball at him. It hit him on the shoulder.
“That’s only a warning shot, Your Grace,” she teased.
He looked at the melting snow on the black coat, which joined all the rest of the snowballs on wetting him today.
Then, his stunned face transformed into the Wolf’s, with that big grin and slightly pointed canines.
She laughed to see the way his eyes glinted merrily.
He was enjoying himself really and truly.
“That’s quite a bold move, my duchess,” he murmured, “but you know it is also a foolish move.”
Before she could fully understand what was going on, a snowball fight ensued.
Adrian was faster, and stronger, but also more accurate, proving that he had let the children win earlier.
However, Daphne was agile and could be ruthless when it came to competition.
She was considered the meeker twin, but that did not mean she conceded all the time.
Oh, no.
As they were throwing snowballs at each other, Daphne noticed that the Duke was getting closer and closer.
Her heart pounded even harder. What was he trying to do?
She rushed away from the children and darted toward the nearest building.
She was not sure which shop was housed within, but she sought shelter under one of the eaves.
Before she could do much more than press her back to the wall and pray that the Duke failed to track her through the snow, she saw that he was right behind her.