My Disfigured Duke Husband Helps Me Plot My Revenge
Chapter 251: His Source of Comfort and Pain

Chapter 251: His Source of Comfort and Pain

Desmond felt guilty that he was relying on Leonor so much to take his stress away.

When he wasn’t focused on the strenuous task of convincing all the highest ranked in Castille that they shouldn’t blindly murder the rest of the Eirenguardians, he was thinking of her.

She felt like the only highlight of his day as he listened to people callously talk about people who shared the same blood as him being worthy of murder if they made the first blow. As if their responses to the brutality of their people weren’t a fair result of Castille’s war crimes.

He could tell King Stephano knew exactly how he was feeling and the monarch tried to be objective despite it being uncharacteristic that the King of Castille cared about the lives of those from an entirely different kingdom and certainly not loyal to him.

Leonor’s prior words stuck out in his mind that their paths might cross that day and she would be thinking of him after their affectionate morning. Perhaps he was clinging to the thought and relying on it to carry him through the day.

Regardless, the moment they were dismissed because nothing could be gleaned until the head of the expedition into Eirenguard could report to the palace, Desmond decided he would wander towards the mage area and see what Leonor had gotten up to that day.

His timing was impeccable and there were times he believed in fate.

He saw her already passing through the door on the other end of the walkway and playful thought came over him as he hid himself around the corner from the entrance she would have to use to get back into the castle which was the midway point to the Queen’s palace.

She seemed so happy from afar, he wanted to be a part of that happiness. He wanted her happiness to be his just as she was.

When he grabbed Leonor and pulled her around the corner so she was no longer visible to the entrance and hidden behind slowly drying shrubbery as it succumbed to the colder autumn weather, he wasn’t expecting her to fire up her mana.

He especially wasn’t expecting her to hit him.

Before she struck him, he hoped that his playfulness would be more of a romantic moment rather than Leonor feeling cornered and attacking him.

After he gasped out "Our paths did cross, after all," Leonor widened her eyes in horror at the realization of what she had just done.

Memories of that morning flooded back and she remembered everything that had happened. She practiced so hard that day so she could stop dwelling on what happened and put her best foot forward as a mage.

"D-Desmond!" she gasped, unable to keep up the proper facade despite being in the palace.

Her hands went on either side of his face as he held his side and bent in half.

"I’m so sorry!" she cried. "What can I do?"

Desmond had let go of her completely and, as he bent in half, one of his hands was on the wall to stabilize himself.

"Start with never hitting me again," he managed to say.

However, with her hands on his face and unable to look away, she saw the grin that spread across his lips and she pushed him away from her, deciding he wasn’t that hurt after all.

"Here I was feeling bad for you," Leonor uttered.

Before she could make it around the corner, Desmond again pulled at her arm and placed her against the wall from before.

"Feel bad for me," he whispered. "It still hurts."

For the second time that day, she realized he was sulking because he wanted her attention. He did it rarely before then but to do it twice in one day, she could only conclude that something was bothering him.

Her day had been idyllic while his day had likely been anything but.

"Where does it hurt?" Leonor asked, suddenly playing along.

She couldn’t tell if he truly was hurt and masking it or if he wanted her to believe he was hurt so she would give them attention. Either scenario was fine with her.

Her gloved hands went to his stomach and her touch was feather-light.

"Is it here?" she asked.

"No," he responded. "Here."

His black glove dropped to the ground and he cupped her face with a warm hand, forcing her to focus on his face. Before she could say anything further, his lips met hers and she was reminded of that morning and the desperate kiss he gave her that he used to distract both of them.

For a few moments, nothing else in her world existed as she kissed him and became consumed by him.

Her gloved hands clung to the front of his outer coat and pulled his body closer to hers. He kept her warm enough that she practically forgot they were outside. The brick behind her back didn’t feel cold any longer.

However, the voices of servants passing from one building to the next were what took Leonor and Desmond back to reality.

Their lips broke apart.

How awful would the rumors be about them if they were caught in such an intimate embrace outdoors?

They waited for the people to leave before returning to the path looking completely flustered.

Unfortunately, the only path to the Queen’s Palace was through the main palace where other nobles would be and certainly more distractions. Otherwise, they would be forced to walk around the large castle and remain outside.

As appropriately as they could, they were forced to walk with Leonor’s hand on his arm and neutral expressions on their faces as if they didn’t have other things in mind.

It was a double-edged sword that, beyond meeting times, people weren’t all that interested in seeking the duke’s attention. Yet it also benefitted them at that moment because all Leonor could think about was getting back to the palace and away from the others.

Their kiss didn’t feel complete. It felt like it opened a door for something more.

She wanted to be his comfort. Even if he wasn’t hurt, she wanted to be his pain relief.

Once outside, their hands joined instead and they swiftly rushed to the Queen’s Palace.

Even though they were out of breath upon arrival, they continued through the doors and up the stairs.

No one dared bother a couple intent on hiding in their chambers in broad daylight.

The bench at the foot of the bed was the epicenter as Leonor and Desmond helped one another get undressed. She sat her husband down after his pants, boots, and coat were off but she more slowly unbuttoned his white undershirt.

When she could finally pull open his shirt, she gasped at the bruise that truly was forming on his normally flawless abs.

"You really were hurt!" she exclaimed in horror.