Chapter 13

Catherine planned to mention her encounter with Alto to Henry once they returned to the castle. Even if their relationship was bound by contract, she wished for them to maintain basic respect for one another.

As she combed her hair, Catherine observed Henry’s reflection in the mirror. Ever since entering the bedroom, Henry had been lying silently on the bed with his lips tightly sealed.

Though she couldn’t fully understand, it seemed that Henry, like her, had a complicated family history. Catherine felt both curious and sympathetic. She wondered how Henry must have felt when he declared his still-living mother as though she were dead. Gathering a handful of her hair, Catherine repeatedly ran the comb through it. Her golden hair, straightened by the comb, soon curled into soft waves that shimmered under the faint light. With her fair skin, large eyes, prominent nose, and red lips, Catherine had all the qualities of a beauty. But her gently curled golden locks were her most striking feature. Catherine had heard that her mother, Stella, also had the same golden hair. Whether the mother she had never met shared her hair color or not, Catherine didn’t particularly care. She only remembered it because her nursemaid, who combed her hair every night before bed, used to talk about it incessantly.

Setting the comb down, Catherine turned and sat facing Henry. Despite her gaze, Henry remained silent, lying still.

She felt like she was looking at herself from yesterday, when she had received the Duke’s wedding invitation and was consumed by mixed emotions. Catherine opened her mouth as if to speak, but then closed it quietly.

The words Richelle had hurled at Henry—calling him a “half-rate knight” and a “pathetic man lusting after wealth that wasn’t even his”—were too harsh, even from an outsider’s perspective. Catherine couldn’t even begin to imagine how Henry must have felt hearing those words directly. Though she had experienced something similar herself, she could only guess at his feelings and didn’t dare to speak to him recklessly.

Even climbing into bed seemed awkward. While they shared a physical relationship and spent intimate nights together, that was the extent of their connection. They didn’t share personal stories or confide in each other, leaving Catherine feeling conflicted. If she were in Henry’s position, she thought she would find clumsy words of comfort rather unpleasant.

Should I pretend not to notice? Act as though nothing had happened?

Trying to behave as usual, Catherine couldn’t shake the image of Henry’s troubled face. She wasn’t used to dealing with someone else’s silence. The Duke, when displeased, would remain silent until Catherine figured it out on her own, suffocating her with his quietness.

“If you’re done, why don’t you come to bed already?”

Catherine had been lost in thought for too long. She hadn’t even noticed Henry getting up from the bed and approaching her. Startled, she looked up when she felt his hands wrap around her shoulders.

Henry’s stomach pressed against her back as he naturally embraced her from behind, whispering softly in her ear.

“Or… are you hoping I’ll fall asleep first?”

His hands on her shoulders were rough. The calluses on his fingers, hardened from training and battles, brushed against Catherine’s soft skin, conveying a hint of his weariness.

“No, that’s not it.”

When Henry nibbled on her ear, Catherine flinched and hunched her shoulders in surprise. But Henry’s firm grip on her shoulders kept her from moving freely.

Henry’s hand slid down from her collarbone, gently caressing her chest. His hand slipped beneath her loosely draped robe, finding her bare skin. As his large hand cupped her br*ast, both Henry and Catherine let out a sigh.

The relationship between a man and a woman is truly strange.

Even in a moment that wasn’t particularly suggestive, a single breath could change the atmosphere entirely. The heavy air in the bedroom, weighed down by their thoughts, quickly turned heated.

“Ah.”

Henry’s hand moved to pinch her n*pple, his touch rougher than usual. Catherine inhaled sharply at the sudden sting. Though his expression was cold, Henry’s touch had always been gentle. Tonight, however, something felt different—almost hurried, as if he were being chased.

“…Stand up.”

Still whispering into her ear, Henry murmured.

“What?”

Frustrated by her inability to understand immediately, Henry grabbed Catherine and pulled her to her feet. Her eyes widened in surprise as he lifted her without warning.

The moment Catherine stood, Henry pushed her down, bending her waist forward. She found herself leaning over the vanity with her hands pressed against it. The memory of their last intimate encounter, where she had been in a similar position, made her cheeks flush. Experience truly was the best teacher. After a few encounters, Catherine had begun to anticipate Henry’s actions. It seemed he intended to join with her here, without moving to the bed.

But Henry always managed to stay one step ahead, catching her off guard. Just as she prepared herself for one thing, he would surprise her with three more. Grabbing the hem of her robe, which hung loosely around her knees, Henry swiftly lifted it.

“Ah…!”

As the robe was pulled up, exposing her pale thighs and hips, Henry roughly tugged at her undergarments, pulling them down. It was unlike him to forego f*replay and rush so directly.

The sudden exposure of her lower body to the cold air made Catherine squirm.

“Don’t move.”

His commanding tone was uncharacteristic. Just as Catherine began to feel uneasy about this unfamiliar side of Henry, he held her waist firmly. With his other hand, he grabbed his now-er*ect member and positioned it against her.

“Ah…!”

Without even a kiss, Henry attempted to enter her, causing Catherine to throw her head back and let out a pained gasp.

“It hurts. Please, wait…”

She was still too dry. Realizing that forcing his way in wouldn’t work, Henry pulled back and stared at the space between her legs. He tried again, pressing forward with determination.

This attempt also failed. Catherine’s body trembled at the thought of the pain she would feel if Henry forced himself inside without preparation. It reminded her of the first time she had taken him, and she feared she might tear if he continued.

“…You’re too tight.”

Henry muttered dryly, as if stating an observation, before withdrawing. Catherine felt a brief sense of relief, thinking he wouldn’t try again immediately. But then her body stiffened as Henry’s fingers replaced his member.

His hand slid between her thighs, his fingers gently parting her folds. He brushed against her cl*toris, his fingertips lightly tapping the sensitive nub. Catherine was particularly sensitive there, and whenever Henry touched her, it felt like lightning shooting down her legs.

“Ah… ah…”

Knowing this, Henry avoided overstimulating her. He teased her gently, his fingers barely grazing her, driving her to the brink of frustration.

Moments ago, his rough intrusion had only caused pain, but now, his tender touch made her ache with need. Her lower abdomen tingled as he continued to tease her. With each flick of his fingers, Catherine’s body involuntarily jerked. When Henry thought she was ready, he shifted his attention to her entrance. What had been dry moments ago was now slick with arousal. But it still wasn’t enough to accommodate him. Patiently, Henry continued to stimulate her, waiting for her body to respond fully.

“Ah…”

Finally, Henry slid a finger inside her, the long digit parting her flesh as it entered.

“…You’re so warm.”

He murmured, his finger still inside her. The heat of her body, transmitted through the damp walls of her core, seemed to excite him further. Gritting his teeth, Henry began to move his finger.

What had started as an effort to prepare her had now aroused him even more. It wasn’t just Catherine’s beauty that stirred him.

Beautiful, fragrant, soft.

Henry bent down and kissed Catherine on the back. Catherine, who had been focused solely on the sensations in her lower body, was startled by the kiss. Henry knew that Catherine responded much more to soft kisses scattered across her body than to the handling and probing of his manhood.

He curled his fingers, stimulating the inner walls of her passage. Catherine preferred such varied stimulation over haphazard thrusting. Moving his lips over her back, Henry left marks on Catherine’s smooth skin. Whenever he saw her pale, white skin, Henry was always overcome with the urge to leave his mark on her.

Henry’s movements grew faster. The quicker his fingers moved, the harder it became for Catherine to keep standing. When Henry moved so quickly that she could no longer endure, Catherine squeezed her eyes shut. Her vision turned white, and moments later, hot liquid trickled down her legs. If her legs were this wet, Henry’s hand must have been in an even worse state. Catherine’s face flushed red.