Love Amidst Wars

forty-eight

It was extremely hot, and the weather was uncomfortable for the workers at the Duke's manor. Yet, Juliette's resilience stood out among them. Above all else, she despised being in anyone's debt. Hurrying through the corridors, she carried a laundry basket, aware that time was of the essence, before stepping outside the manor. She took a deep breath of the fresh outdoor air and began her task of hanging the freshly washed clothes on the airer.

"Juliette."

She startled when she realized the Duke was standing directly behind her, her back pressed against his chest. Her eyes widened as she gazed at his impassive expression. "Your Grace, one should not approach others so unexpectedly."

Jake neither chuckled nor smiled; he exhaled with disappointment and frowned, "What are you doing with the maids' chores? Drying clothes, sweeping, gardening—"

"Did the maids inform you?" she queried.

"They did. Even if they hadn't, I would have discovered it eventually."

"Your Grace, I genuinely wish to avoid being indebted to anyone. I volunteered to assist with the household tasks," she sighed, lifting the basket and moving toward the next row of airers. He followed her, brow furrowed at her stubbornness, "I do not want my lady dirtying her hands. You are a noblewoman, and you should never have to engage in labor."

"I was a noblewoman. That changed after my parents' death. I am nothing now, Your Grace."

He scoffed in disbelief and crossed his arms, "Well, I am the Duke, and I command that you cease this activity."

"And what if I refuse?" she challenged, raising an eyebrow in defiance at his insistence. He bent down to pick up the basket and turned to walk away. "Your Grace!" she exclaimed in frustration. Ignoring her, he moved to another row and continued her task of hanging clothes. Alarmed, she grasped his arm, "Please stop. You're a Duke!"

He laughed softly and persisted, disregarding her concerns. She tried to push him away, but he was far too strong, his feet firmly planted on the ground. Unbeknownst to them, the Duchess observed from the manor's balcony, scrutinizing the scene before letting out a deep sigh. She set her cup down on the table and tapped it lightly, prompting the maid to nod and refill her tea.

"Do you think my son appears happy at this moment?" Duchess Eleanor inquired before taking a sip. The maid glanced at the unfolding situation before answering, "That is undoubtedly the broadest smile I have ever seen on His Grace. It has been quite some time since I witnessed it."

"Indeed?" The ladyship smiled, her gaze fixed on her son. "It's unfortunate that Clarissa isn't the cause of his joy. I had quite an affection for her. However, if Jake is in love with the Viscount's daughter, then..."

"What parent doesn't desire their child's happiness, right, Your Grace?"

"Absolutely."

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Clarissa focused intently on her embroidery in the living room, relishing her solitude. She had explicitly instructed the maids to leave her undisturbed. As she heard footsteps nearing the room, she turned to see who approached. Her initial frown was quickly replaced by surprise as she found the Prince standing in the doorway, holding two cups. Jay maintained a neutral expression as he walked over to the sofa, settling beside her and placing the cups down.

"Tea?" she inquired.

"It's simple to prepare," he replied.

"And it's the only thing you're capable of making," she retorted.

He gave a light scoff, saying, "A bit of gratitude wouldn't go amiss, considering I invited you to stay at the royal villa."

Leaning forward, she took one of the cups and blew gently on the tea to cool it. "What are you working on?" he asked, attempting to engage her in conversation.

"Really? Embroidery isn't some new skill I've just picked up. It's quite clear what I'm doing, so why ask?"

"Is it inappropriate for me to initiate a conversation with you?" He exhaled in frustration before letting out a sigh. She laughed softly and leaned in to scrutinize his expression, "Your Highness, are you pouting?"

"No."

"You most certainly are."

"Good night," he abruptly rose and hurried out of the room. She glared at him and followed, "Why are you behaving like this? Do you really think I wouldn't notice that you've been avoiding me for nearly two weeks?"

"That's just in your imagination."

Frustrated, she seized his wrist, "Then, look at me!"

He had been managing to keep his distance—avoiding her, leaving the villa before she even emerged from her room in the morning. But the moment her skin made contact with his, all his self-control vanished. He pulled her into a kiss he had longed for, leaving her no opportunity to breathe.

Finally, she managed to push him away, gasping for air. His chest rose and fell rapidly as he turned his gaze away, reflecting on his actions. Until now, their relationship had remained within the bounds of friendship with a hint of casualness. They had both agreed to keep it from developing further.

"Clarissa—"

"Don't say anything," she averted her eyes, her mind racing with thoughts about the kiss. "This is just the typical thing you always do—"

"No."

"Yes, Jay. This is—"

"No, it is not," he interrupted. "I realized it was a mistake to let you stay here for a while. Ever since you embraced me at that shelter... The first time you cried seeking comfort from me, I— I craved you."

"You can't mean that."

"I resented you for making me feel this way, but somehow, the moment I saw you, I craved your lips, your touch, your embrace, everything. Your smile, your voice—I can't explain it. You are the source of my torment. Yet, I cannot rid you from my thoughts or my heart."
"Your High—"

"Please do not address me that way. Use my name instead."

"Jay," she murmured, watching him approach her with visible yearning. He tenderly cupped her face in his hands, resting his forehead against hers, "I want no one else in this world but you."