Chapter 11 (Slight R19)

“You’re beautiful, miss!”

Just then, a young gypsy boy—no older than twelve or thirteen—ran up to Elaine and held out a flower.

“It’s a gift!”

“Thank you!”

Elaine accepted the flower with a radiant smile. The boy stared at her, spellbound by her face, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.

Dominic clicked his tongue silently.

And then he saw Elaine, still smiling brightly as she buried her face in the petals.

That’s when it hit him.

A strange and inexplicable wave of displeasure washed over him.

“Oh-ho, so this is what beer looks like?”

At a worn-down tavern Dominic had led her to, Elaine lifted a roughly carved wooden mug, inspecting it with wide-eyed curiosity.

“Hmm…”

She sniffed at it, utterly unladylike. Still, there was something inherently noble about her—even that small gesture of tilting her head back to sip stirred something in those watching her.

“Have you ever had alcohol before?” Dominic asked.

“Nope.”

She wrinkled her nose slightly at the unfamiliar taste and shook her head.

Though she claimed to be of age, Elaine’s only experiences with “alcohol” had been the non-alcoholic champagne at high-society parties.

“Fernando thinks if I drink, I’ll drop dead on the spot.”

“Really? How could anyone think that of such a spirited Lady Aiola?”

“Right? I’m full of life!”

As if to prove her strength, Elaine downed the rest of her beer in one swift gulp. Even that motion—so simple—carried a rare elegance, unique to someone raised in nobility.

“Ah…”

But noble birth alone didn’t grant immunity to alcohol.

As the warmth hit her head, Elaine blinked slowly, dazed, and looked around the rowdy tavern. She still couldn’t believe she was really here—surrounded by laughing, shouting commoners.

This… this is Dominic’s world.

Just a few months ago, she couldn’t have imagined being in a place like this.

“Dominic. You always make me feel like someone else.”

Not just Elaine. No one could have imagined this sight. Had her maid Anna witnessed it, she’d have claimed her mistress was possessed and ransacked the entire estate looking for a priest.

“When I’m with you, I feel like I become… a little more special.”

“Do you, now?”

Dominic simply smiled. Even in the clamor of the noisy tavern, he was like a calm, quiet sea. Elaine stared at his face for a moment before throwing her arms around him and pressing a light kiss to his lips.

“I like you, Dominic.”

Her eyes crinkled sweetly. Though always bold by nature, Elaine under the influence was even more daring.

So she kissed him again—freely, lightly, scattering her laughter, nestling into his arms with the gentle allure of a soft-bellied kitten.

But then—

Smack!

Just as she tried to pull away, Dominic gripped her tightly and kissed her deeper. It was a long, possessive kiss—one that sought to break her, to ruin the innocent girl who bore such a striking resemblance to Fernando Aiola.

“D… Dominic…”

Elaine struggled to keep up, her breath ragged, a moan escaping her lips.

“Ooooooh!”

Cheers erupted all around them as onlookers took notice. Startled, Elaine pushed him away and buried her flushed face deep into her cloak.

“Oh no… how embarrassing…”

Her voice, barely a whisper, tickled his ear.

He couldn’t help but laugh. Bold enough to kiss him first, now she was suddenly shy?

The tavern roared with continued cheers. Dominic, unfazed, scooped her into his arms.

The applause grew louder, but he didn’t care. The opinions of people he would never see again meant nothing. What mattered now was the woman curled up in his arms.

As he carried her up the narrow stairs to a room above, Elaine squirmed endlessly in his grasp.

Once inside, Dominic shut the door behind them.

Click.

The lock slid into place.

“Looks like a stable…”

Elaine muttered, stunned by the state of the room. She sank onto the old bed, which groaned loudly under her weight.

She jumped, lifting the edge of the blanket.

The fabric was coarse and stiff—worse than the worst bedding used by the lowest servants at Aiola Manor.

“People actually sleep in places like this?”

“It’s for wandering travelers,” Dominic replied calmly.

“Traveling sounds… horrible.”

With that, her dream of one day visiting her grandfather in the Empire disappeared instantly.

“Absolutely not. No travel. No Empire. No Grandfather…”

She mumbled, hardly aware of what she was saying.

That was when a large hand reached over and gently covered hers, which rested on the worn blanket. Startled, Elaine turned her head—and closed her eyes.

Dominic didn’t just reach for her hand—his long fingers gently slipped back the hood of her robe, revealing the face she’d kept hidden until now. Her delicate features shimmered in the dim light, and her platinum lashes fluttered like the wings of a moth.

He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her eyelids.

Then one to the bridge of her nose.

And another, tender and lingering, to her lips.

“Mmm…”

A quiet sound escaped Elaine—half surprise, half surrender. Whether intentional or not, it made Dominic’s heart race. As she opened her arms to pull him in, they tumbled gently onto the creaky old bed, their bodies close, their hearts even closer.

“Elaine… Aiola.”

Dominic traced her face slowly, his fingers following the curve of her jaw and resting at her neck. She felt so fragile in his hands, like a porcelain doll.

Their eyes met.

And for a fleeting second, Elaine felt a strange rush—like standing before a wild storm, unsure whether it would sweep her away or simply hold her in place forever. She let out a soft laugh, trying to lighten the moment.

“Hey, Dominic… I don’t know if I’ve said this before.”

Dominic kissed the tip of her nose, her chin, and the slope of her neck, just as she whispered:

“I love you…”

But before she could finish, he gently drew back the old robe that draped around her shoulders. The contrast between her elegant blue dress and the rough surroundings made her look like a misplaced jewel in a forgotten place.

Dominic continued pressing quiet kisses over her dress, frustration growing at the number of buttons. Elaine, gasping a little, placed her hands on his to stop him.

“Wait, Dominic…”

Her voice trembled, not with fear, but hesitation. She held his hands tightly, uncertain.

He looked down at her, surprised by the change in her tone. Her eyes were soft, unsure.

“I… I just thought you should know. It might not look… perfect.”

“What do you mean?” he asked gently.

“When I was little… I got very sick. It left a scar.”

Dominic paused, his brow arching with quiet concern. Elaine gave a weak smile, trying to shrug it off.

“It’s nothing. You probably won’t even notice.”

Dominic carefully brushed her hands aside.

“Let me see.”

She closed her eyes, nervously anticipating his reaction. Sensing her unease, Dominic reached up and gently swept his thumb across her cheek, offering silent reassurance. When she opened her eyes again, he met them with a softness that made her heart ache.

At last, the final button slipped free, and the fabric of her dress slid away to reveal her shoulders and the faint scar that curved just beside her waist.

She instinctively tried to cover it, her voice barely above a whisper.

“See? It’s not very pretty…”

Dominic traced the mark lightly, then leaned in.

“It’s beautiful, Elaine. Like a flower that’s bloomed just for you.”

Elaine’s eyes widened. “How did you…?”

“Carlotta’s not just a poison. It’s also the name of a flower that grows in the south,” he said with a small smile.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the scar, reverent and quiet.

“Dominic…”

His touch was soft and comforting, nothing like the storm she feared. Elaine laughed suddenly, overwhelmed and giddy.

“Stop—it tickles…”

She tried to push him away, laughing between breaths, but he only pulled her closer, resting his forehead gently against hers.

“You’re safe,” he whispered. “I promise.”

And in that moment, wrapped in each other’s warmth, the world outside the small, worn room faded into silence.