EID Chapter 134

Chapter 134

As If It Were the First Time

“I’d like to invite you to a tennis gathering.”

Clara’s clear voice shattered Olivia’s tension as if it were nothing.

At the sudden proposal, Olivia tilted her head slightly.

“A tennis gathering?”

“Yes. It’s a small group that meets for social purposes, though the refreshments after the match are really the main event. Everyone is an ardent fan of Blanchet the player. Ah, forgive me. I’m so used to the name you used in your athletic days that I misspoke. My apologies.”

“It’s fine, Miss Josephine.”

Olivia smiled graciously. Clara, beaming brightly, stepped a little closer.

“Since I’ve been chosen to paint a portrait of the duke and duchess, my friends have been pestering me to ask. If you’re free this Friday, could you come? It’ll be at the tennis courts attached to the Royal Academy of Arts.”

Her deep sea-blue eyes fixed wholly on Olivia’s.

Their gazes locked through the shafts of light streaming in from the corridor’s windows.

“Ah, that’s unfortunate. That day Princess Catherine has invited me to a volunteer gathering.”

“Oh!” Clara let out a small sigh.

“One mustn’t decline the Princess’s invitation. But there will be plenty of time—please do attend someday. I’m asking you, Duchess.”

“Yes. If the chance arises, I will. Thank you for the invitation, Miss Josephine.”

Olivia ended the conversation with polite courtesy and escorted Clara out.

Their heels echoed in the high-ceilinged hall as they walked down the corridor at a measured pace.

All the way through the long corridor, across the central hall, and until she boarded her carriage, Clara carried on the conversation with her characteristic kindness.

“I’ll see you next week, Duchess.”

“Yes. Travel safely.”

Clara dipped her head slightly out the open carriage window.

Her wavy hair tumbled over her shoulders, bouncing lightly as if dancing.

The carriage began to move.

Clara was an unblemished, lovable woman. Just as often described in the original story, she seemed like a saint imbued with a pure soul.

She was the perfect match for Johann, who had grown up under emotional abuse, cursed as a child born through his mother’s death.

At the launching of the Trafalgar ship. On the train at Leiden Central Station. And at Greathill.

They say that three chance encounters mean destiny.

But Clara—

He saved my life, and I saved his.

Whose fate is the true one?

Olivia stood there watching until the black carriage bearing Clara disappeared completely beyond the gates.

It had been a life without ever desiring much.

Jian had tried to be a good child to avoid being abandoned, yet was abandoned all the same and grew up under her grandmother’s care.

Quiet and peaceful.

That was all she had ever wanted from life.

But this was the first moment she felt true desire.

Johann stood beneath the water streaming down like rain.

‘I’m asking you, Miss Josephine.’

I’m asking you… huh.

That wasn’t something one should say to a woman already spoken of in marriage with her husband. Even less so for Olivia, who had even been jealous of Maurice.

He had thought there was no doubt she would refuse.

This strangely unpleasant feeling must have come from the fact that she hadn’t reacted as expected.

Johann brushed his wet hair back from his forehead and lifted his face.

For a long moment he let the water fall on his closed eyes before turning off the faucet.

He pulled on a gown over his towel-dried body.

Olivia had forgiven him, but still refused intimacy. Even the hand-holding they had continued because of his injury had ended the very day they returned from Rondos Palace.

His gaze shifted to the small clock on the marble shelf by the sink.

The golden hands pointed to 10 o’clock.

Olivia would already be asleep. Lately she went to bed unusually early—he knew it was part of her silent protest.

She wanted him to allow her social activity, and he had no intention of doing so. So this tedious standoff would go on.

That was why, when he opened the bathroom door and came out into the bedroom, the sight of Olivia asleep on his bed was more than a little startling.

‘Unless the bedrooms have been switched, I’d say you’ve entered the wrong room. Which is it?’

Her voice drifted through the moonlit space.

Johann let his eyes roam slowly around. The plain furniture and businesslike decor marked this as certainly his own room.

What had gotten into her?

A quiet smile spread across his lips as he walked toward her.

Droplets still clung to his damp hair, falling to the carpet as he moved.

Even if she had entered the wrong room, he had no reason to refuse such a feast laid out before him.

Reaching Olivia, he carefully sat down on the edge of the bed.

She was curled up small, like a child. The sweet smell of wine lingered on her gentle breath.

“You’ve been drinking.”

What he thought was a playful provocation turned out to be nothing more than a drunken mistake of rooms.

A laugh escaped him. Once she had acted shy and bashful like a bride on her wedding night, and now she lay here utterly defenseless.

He let out a quiet sigh.

Holding his sleeping wife didn’t seem like a bad idea. His mind was already racing ahead.

In the red glow of the bedside lamp, Olivia’s pale chest rose and fell with her breathing.

Blood rushed hotly through him.

‘I haven’t forgiven you, so for now this sort of thing is still—’

Damn it.

Johann dragged a hand through his hair, fist clenched tight.

He was just debating whether he should carry his drunken wife off with gentlemanly restraint when a droplet from his hair fell onto her cheek.

Olivia slowly opened her eyes.

“Johann.”

She smiled drowsily from his bed.

“I was waiting for you.”

Her whisper was barely audible.

“Are you drunk?”

“Not too much. Just enough to feel good.”

“So, since you’re tipsy and feeling good—why are you here?”

“What do you think?”

Her voice was languid, like sunlight on a spring afternoon.

“Drunken mischief?”

“Johann! I’m not drunk enough to—mmph.”

Her indignant protest was swallowed by his lips.

Gently but firmly, he eased her back onto the bed.

The same soap scent clinging to him melded with the solid warmth of his body. Their breaths mingled, lips entangled.

She had prepared herself for this.

She had drunk three glasses of wine, too embarrassed to face him sober, but even so her body went rigid under the sudden onslaught of sensation.

“You need to relax, Olivia.”

Loosening the ribbon of her nightgown, he murmured against her lips.

Gasping, Olivia clutched at her gaping front.

“Turn off the light first—!”

“But you hate not being able to see my face.”

“….”

Smiling faintly, Johann brushed her hair spread over the white sheets, lifted one corner of his mouth, and leaned down.

He tugged at the sash of his robe. As the garment slid from his shoulders, Olivia turned her head away, her earlobes burning crimson under the lamplight.

His shadow fell over her body.

Propping himself with one arm, he cupped her chin with the other and pulled her gaze back to his.

“What’s wrong? Acting as if it’s the first time.”

Her eyes wandered helplessly past his strong arm, flitting to the fireplace.

She had seen men’s bare torsos at tennis clubs before, but never below that. Oh, heavens!

Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to blot out the image.

But her hands clutching her nightgown were caught and lifted above her head. Startled, Olivia shook her head frantically, eyes flying open.

“W-wait. I’m not ready yet—.”

“That’s something you should’ve settled before stepping into this room. Don’t you think, Olivia?”

“Y-yes, but…”

Her heart thudded wildly, leaving her breathless. Embarrassment and vague fear made her vision go white. Johann, however, went on calmly, intent on his course.

The night air brushed coolly against her exposed skin.

His gaze slowly traced her body bathed in silver moonlight and red lamplight, stopping at her eyes.

Her blue eyes, like a midday lake, shimmered with tears.

Her reaction was incomprehensible—she looked on the verge of crying, though she had come here of her own will. Why?

Yet, seeing her like this only excited him further.

He wanted to devour her right then. Pretending to be a gentleman was no easy feat.

“Do you dislike it?”

Breaking the silence, he asked.

Olivia shook her head within the cage of his arms.

“Then.”

“…Just… a little more slowly.”

“…”

“…As if it were the first time. Please, gently.”

Lowering his gaze, he looked at his shy, pleading wife.

As if it were the first time.

A soft laugh escaped him. That was not a request he couldn’t grant.

He released her wrists, letting her slender arms shield her chest.

Then he lay down beside her, pulled her into his embrace.

Within his arms, Olivia lifted her face.

He gently swept her messy hair back behind her ear, caressed its curve, then bent down.

Their lips met carefully, like a first kiss between lovers.

And thus their second wedding night deepened.