Chapter 2

“You’re really amusing.”

These were the words Henry uttered after a brief kiss. His warm breath, released alongside his words, made her heart race. Catherine had never known that the simple act of someone breathing in and out so close to her could be so thrilling—until she met Henry.

On their wedding night, the first night they spent together, Catherine had shed tears without realizing it. It wasn’t a union she had desired. What comforted her, however, was Henry’s calm and steady breathing. Instead of offering empty, comforting words, he had waited patiently for her to regain her composure. Remembering this, Catherine bit her lip gently.

Henry was like two different people—one inside the bedroom and another outside of it. During the day, he wore the cold and composed face of a knight, but at night, he embraced her tenderly, as if she were his beloved.

At the very least, he wasn’t the savage man the rumors had painted him to be, and for that, Catherine was endlessly grateful. Every time she found herself in his arms, she couldn’t help but think this.

However, the fact that his behavior in bed was so different from how he acted elsewhere also meant that his warmth was confined to the bedroom. Nights spent cocooned in his arms, exchanging intimate whispers, would vanish like a dream by morning. This left Catherine deeply confused. 

Had I said something wrong the night before? Had I somehow displeased him?

She spent her days fretting over these thoughts, only for Henry to return to her by evening with his gentle demeanor, as if nothing had happened. After witnessing this cycle several times, Catherine came to a late realization.

For Henry, who needed an heir more than a wife, there was no reason to treat her kindly except during the act of conceiving a child. That painful realization had brought her to tears in secret. But soon, Catherine wiped away those tears, acknowledging that her own position was no different from his.

What she wanted was freedom. What he wanted was an heir.

Resolving to adapt fully to their hollow marriage, a union formed solely to meet mutual needs, Catherine steeled herself. Yet, while she had made up her mind, her heart struggled to fully accept it. Like Henry, she tried to reserve warmth for their nights together, but his cold demeanor in the daylight made it difficult for her to act unaffected.

How much more time would it take for me to grow accustomed to the disparity between day and night?

Catherine blinked slowly, gazing at Henry’s face, illuminated by the silver moonlight.

“And that’s why I want to torment you until you’re utterly broken.”

Whenever Catherine bristled in defiance, it reminded Henry of a kitten baring its claws. She was trying her best to look intimidating, but to him, it was merely endearing—a fragile little creature.

Catherine’s cheeks flushed as she instantly grasped the meaning behind his words. He likely wanted to see her beneath him, shedding tears and crying out in ecstasy.

Henry, who had been whispering provocative words, slowly lowered her onto the bed. The firm heat of his body in front of her and the soft, cool mattress behind her made Catherine shiver. The contrasting sensations and temperatures reminded her of Henry’s two faces.

The warm face of the night and the cold face of the day.

Which one was his true self?

As she pondered this, Catherine’s pupils trembled ever so slightly.

“…You seem to be lost in thought more than usual tonight.”

Henry, now positioned above her, pressed his body against hers. Feeling the weight of his lower body pressing down, Catherine finally looked up at the man above her. Though her gaze was directed at him, her thoughts had clearly been elsewhere. Noticing this, Henry raised one eyebrow, feigning seriousness. Perhaps he wanted to play the role of a jealous husband, thinking, “How dare you have other thoughts when your husband is right here with you!” But both of them knew too well that his expression lacked sincerity.

“It’s nothing.”

It was Catherine herself who had orchestrated their loveless marriage. She had also agreed to his audacious proposal: if she bore him a child, he would grant her freedom.

A relationship based on necessity would shatter the moment either of them demanded more than what was agreed. Each time she saw Henry’s cold demeanor, Catherine tried her best to suppress the growing disappointment in her heart.

The only emotion she should feel for him was camaraderie.

Feelings like excitement or disappointment had no place between them.

He was her husband, but he was not hers.

Pushing aside her lingering regrets, Catherine reached out to Henry.

She did not love him.

Yet, strangely, she enjoyed the moments when their bodies touched and shared warmth.

Especially the sensation of bare skin against bare skin—it offered her a thrill she had never experienced before.

As Henry buried his face between her br*asts, Catherine tensed her shoulders. Lying there, n*ked and holding each other, she felt as though her entire body was melting into his warmth. His heated body made her almost believe in the illusion of a burning love.

“Ah…”

As if to deny her the luxury of further thoughts, Henry began to move in earnest. He shifted his face, rubbing his cheek against her chest before pressing his lips to her ar*ola.

Henry had a particular fondness for teasing her br*asts with his lips. He often remarked that her dainty n*pples resembled unripe cherries.

After repeatedly brushing the hardened peaks with his lips, Henry slowly extended his tongue, savoring her.

Thanks to his relentless attention, Catherine found herself forgetting the thoughts that had consumed her mind.

Yes, there was no need to overthink.

If she could escape this captivity that had begun with her grandfather and now extended to her husband—if she could find freedom—she was prepared to do anything.

Catherine moved her hand to stroke Henry’s head. His curly hair tickled her fingers as it slipped through them.

“Mmm…”

Henry, with her n*pple in his mouth, gripped the underside of her br*ast firmly. The simultaneous sensations of pain and pleasure caused a moan to escape Catherine’s lips.

Her body had already been ignited since the moment she took Henry into her mouth earlier. Whenever she saw his robust physique, a strange sensation stirred in her lower abdomen, leaving her unable to control herself. At times, she felt so ashamed of being aroused by the body of a man she didn’t love that she thought herself indecent.

The prolonged attention to her br*asts left her yearning. Catherine unconsciously shifted her hips, wishing for him to touch her elsewhere.

Perhaps sensing her desire, Henry lifted his head. The loss of his warm lips on her chest drew a sigh of disappointment from her.

Though their bodies remained warm where they touched, the night air brushing against her chest, now damp with saliva, felt icy cold. The sudden chill made her shiver, and Henry, noticing this, quickly sat up. Aligning their most intimate areas, he straightened his back and took a moment to admire her.

A peculiar tension filled the space between them as they gazed at each other in silence. Despite having seen each other’s bare bodies countless times since their first night, every moment still felt new and extraordinary.

“Ha… ah.”

Without warning, Henry thrust into her. No matter how many times they did this, Catherine could never get used to the one-sided intrusion. She closed her eyes and bit her lip, stifling her cries of pain. Even after countless nights together, her body still struggled to accommodate him.

Yet, compared to their first time, this was heaven. Back then, it had felt as though a burning skewer was being driven into her lower body.

“…Ugh.”

Henry, too, seemed to struggle with her tightness, gritting his teeth as if to endure. He clenched so hard that the veins at his temples bulged. Despite ensuring she was ready, her inner walls remained impossibly snug.

Still, Henry didn’t stop. No, he couldn’t stop. His lower body clung to hers as if it couldn’t bear to part. The saying that a man’s lower half had a mind of its own didn’t seem so far-fetched. Thinking of Alto, who had once teased him endlessly about women, Henry couldn’t help but chuckle.

One shouldn’t laugh during such an intimate moment.

Blowing a short breath to push his bangs back, Henry adjusted his posture, bending his legs for better movement.

Even in the same space, sharing the same moment, Catherine’s body exuded a sweet fragrance unlike his. He vaguely recalled hearing that women used fragrant flower petals during baths. Pressing his nose to her skin, he felt as though he were enveloped in luscious fruit. It made him want to taste her, to bite her.