My Disfigured Duke Husband Helps Me Plot My Revenge
Chapter 257: Resting

Chapter 257: Resting

Guilt ate away at Desmond more and more throughout the day. It became especially biting when Leonor walked alongside him and he realized just how stiff she was from her training the day before and his insatiable nature combined.

They greeted their help as they took their cloaks and put them away to warm up and be fresh for them when they returned to the palace for dinner that evening.

As they walked down the hallway, Leonor went slowly. The closer they got to the bottom of the grand staircase, the more dread filled her heart. Her low pain tolerance combined with how she was feeling wasn’t going to be a pretty sight for Desmond to witness. He felt too bad for things that she had done to herself.

It wasn’t he who forced her to push herself past her limit the day before anyway.

However, as she went to take a step on the bottom stair, she yelped upon being swept off her feet. Desmond held her bridal style as he easily scaled the stairs. She had her hands tightly over her mouth, horrified at being manhandled in such a way.

Thinking he was finished once they reached the top of the stairs, she pushed at his chest as he bounded down the hallway with her in his arms.

"I can walk by myself!" she cried.

"Not very well," he insisted with a grin.

It wasn’t until they were in the Queen’s chambers that Desmond placed her on the floor and she sat down on the bench at the foot of their bed. She was no longer able to look at that piece of furniture without thinking of what they had gotten up to the day before. She tried to keep a straight face as she looked up at her husband.

"All I need is a nap before we attend dinner at the main palace," she uttered and began to unlace the tie that was keeping her dress on in the first place.

Her chemise was exposed along with her shoulders and the dress fell to her waist.

Seeing Desmond looking particularly predatory, she held her hands to her chest.

"Don’t look at me as if you’re starved," she uttered, although his gaze didn’t deter her from removing her outer dress and leaving herself in only a chemise. She wanted to be comfortable and lay around for a while.

She was slowly rebuilding her stamina. Two days out in a row was enough to test her limits and know where she stood. It was hard to believe a few short years before she was exercising her mana just as hard at least five days a week by the time she graduated.

"I am holding myself back," Desmond insisted. "My gaze is nothing compared to what I wish I was doing with you right now."

She found his honesty so hard to face.

Leonor turned her face away as she slowly stood up and allowed her dress to fall off the rest of the way, deciding she would wear something else for the evening. Soon her feet were bare as well.

"Will you lay down with me or will you continue to gawk?" she asked with a laugh.

She had already pulled down the fluffy cream blankets and climbed into the bed. It was a bit taller than the one they shared at home and her sore muscles had to strain to get where she wanted to be.

However, once she was settled, she let out a well-deserved sigh.

"This is just what I wanted," she expressed. "I could fall asleep at any moment."

Leonor’s eyes closed for a few moments.

Hearing nothing, she opened them expecting to see Desmond in the same spot but he was nowhere to be found. If she was feeling better, she might run after him and see which direction he went off to, but at that moment it didn’t feel particularly pressing.

Desmond appeared shortly after with a glass bottle of something faintly yellow in his hands.

"Leonor," he said quietly, seeing if she was asleep. When he was met with tired blue eyes, he held up the small bottle. "I’m going to give you a massage. This is for sore muscles according to one of the maids."

Leonor trusted Desmond but she still stared at him with an expression of doubt.

"Are you sure this is all you will be doing?" she asked. "I truly don’t know if I could handle strenuous activity at the moment."

The duke placed the bottle down and began removing his clothing. When all that was left was his undershorts, he approached the bed and crouched onto the ground, bringing himself eye-level to his wife.

"I promise," he swore. "I want you to feel better. Then we can resume strenuous activity."

Leonor balking at him only caused him to laugh lightly and he stood up to retrieve the body oil that was supposed to create a warming sensation and soothe Leonor’s aching muscles.

He gently urged her to roll onto her stomach and she obliged with a groan.

She buried her face in the pillow promptly afterward, wondering what Desmond was going to do first.

"I’m sliding this down," he said. "Think nothing of it."

Leonor braced herself for his touch and he reached for the straps of her chemise before helping her pull her arms out of it and rolling it down so it only covered her backside. He sought access to her arms and back. It was truly the only way to ensure she was getting his well-deserved thoroughness.

Again, Leonor felt tense as Desmond stood next to the bed and looked down at her. She buried her face once again but it felt like his gaze was burning a hole into her back.

Soon enough, the duke had reached towards the base of her neck and he decided that’s where he was going to massage first.

He worked his way slowly from top to bottom. Her neck was taken care of then her shoulders and upper back. Her sore biceps got a massage that she thought hurt the most and he went back for her back.

He worked far enough down that he got to the lower back where her chemise was rolled up.

He wanted to delve further and pull off her clothing, but he was the one who swore he could behave. Yet his mind and body were two different things. Simply touching her while she was unclothed was affecting him. He tried to think of something foul, but touching Leonor’s skin made it so she wasn’t far from his thoughts.

The duchess relaxed more and more at the feeling of his touch. What was once tense started to loosen. She was letting her pain go and filling her head with nothingness.

Desmond soon worked on the bottom half of his wife and he pushed her chemise up so it was once, again, only covering her backside, and her shapely, olive-toned legs were offered up to him.

From that point, he started at her thighs which were causing Leonor the most pain out of anything in her body. She started to grimace at first but she found his firm touch soothing after the initial pain stopped.

He then went to her knees, then her calves, and her feet.

By the time he made it to the last foot, he stood up and looked down at Leonor who was very obviously sleeping as her quiet breaths caused her shoulders and back to rise and fall since she was still laying on her stomach.

He smiled down at his dear duchess. How he wished she wasn’t sore so he could tell her just what his thoughts had gotten up to while he felt up practically her entire body.

Desmond eventually lay down next to his wife and he napped only lightly for a short time. When he opened his eyes, the sun was gone and darkness was cast across their impermanent chambers.

It was certainly time to go, but as he felt the warm body next to him and pulled the blanket a bit higher, the desire to walk out in the cold started to leave him.

However, he remembered Leonor mentioning Stephano’s loneliness and knew it wouldn’t be right to ignore his invitation for dinner.

After waking up the duchess who had no desire to leave bed either, both of them slowly got themselves together with the help of Beth occasionally coming into the room.

In a short time, Leonor donned a dark blue dress while Desmond found one of his charcoal grey military uniforms that was suitable for the occasion. It was palace etiquette to don one’s military achievements out in the open so it was clear where their allegiance lay.

By the Royal Family’s seal along with his own, it was clear which king he was loyal to.

Briskly, the two walked through the garden with thick cloaks over them so the early winter breeze wouldn’t be so biting. They removed their outer clothes when they made it through the palace’s side entrance and they found the dining hall ready and waiting for them to eat.

What they weren’t expecting, however, was the sight of Quinn and Stephano sitting stiffly in their chairs at the long dining table. Both of their faces showed evidence of bruises and scratches that showed just what sort of training they had gotten into while the ducal couple rested.