My Disfigured Duke Husband Helps Me Plot My Revenge
Chapter 272: Getting Carried Away

Chapter 272: Getting Carried Away

Leonor and Desmond found themselves wandering the halls of the palace. They soon came upon an empty sitting area that remained warm by the slowly dying fire. Although with the alcohol Desmond seemed intent on drinking, she likely wouldn’t even notice the cold in a little while.

Sure enough, Desmond uncorked the wine and he put it to his lips. When he was finished, he handed it to Leonor who did the same despite her initial hesitance.

"It feels wrong wearing such a dress like this and drinking wine so barbarically," she uttered.

"Stoop to my level while no one is watching us," Desmond requested with a grin.

Leonor couldn’t help grinning and accepted the cold wine.

They went back and forth with the bottle a few times and she could feel her face already starting to heat up. It was becoming dangerous. She was starting to feel shy because she was having strange thoughts in her head while she had her husband all to herself.

Those days it felt like they only met up when it was already dark outside. They were getting to know one another well in the confines of their bedroom. She was missing the times they were able to walk around outside and enjoy the sunshine.

Being outside in the palace meant anyone could watch them. It wasn’t as fun if they weren’t in Montclair.

Desmond stood up and walked towards a large window away from the couch they once occupied and he placed his hands on the windowsill as the cold air coming from the glass reached his face.

Leonor soon followed, but before she got all the way there, she reached up and pulled his hood from his head. When he was revealed to her, she witnessed his eyes shut and a blissful expression on his face as he enjoyed the cool air on his hot face and head.

"I want to see you," she requested quietly.

"Years before, you never would have done something so bold to me," he muttered. "So much has changed in only a couple of years."

He turned to look down at her but he had a smile on his face and she admired it.

"I didn’t know who you were then," she defended herself quietly.

As she leaned into his shoulder and hugged his arm, she reached up to touch the scarred side of his face. She even went so far as to reach higher and trace what would have been his eye.

He had complained to her before about the hindrances of having only one eye and how it was rare for him to finish a day without a headache because he had strained his one eye all day long. At times she would ask him to shut his eye even if they were together just so he wouldn’t have to suffer.

"You’re so beautiful," she uttered. "My Valerio, my Desmond, my duke... Whoever you are."

Nothing else mattered in the world at that moment, but Desmond found himself still burdened by the events surrounding them having to be in the palace. He crumbled at her words and wrapped his arms around her waist. His face was pressed into her neck even though he had to bend to get to such a position while they stood due to their height difference.

"I want to go home," he uttered into her bare skin. "This time last year was so lighthearted. I took for granted peaceful moments with you."

"I want to go home too," she admitted. "But I understand your duty to Stephano. You both are mutually beneficial to one another."

For a few moments, all Leonor did was hug her husband and let him relish in her comfort. She could tell that he was constantly burdened that’s why she wasn’t mad that, whenever they saw one another at night, all he wanted to do was make love despite how tired he was.

Her sapphire eyes drifted to the window that was making her right shoulder cold and she admired the lights of the largest city in Castille. They had a good angle of it since the grounds of the palace sloped downward on that end.

"Look at this city," Leonor whispered. "I can’t get used to it. Burien and Montclair seem so incredibly small compared to this."

Desmond let go of his wife and she walked towards the window. That time, it was she who placed her hands on the windowsill and felt the full coldness of the glass as it kissed her olive-toned decolletage and shoulders.

She shivered.

Her hair had been swept up in a loose updo with gemstones pinned into her hair, sealing everything in place.

Desmond thought she looked like the night sky with the stones gently glimmering in the dim light against the dark expanse of her hair.

He couldn’t resist it as he stepped closer to her and his large hands found her small waist.

Unlike normal, he resisted complaining about the uncomfortable clothing she wore, not wanting to bring down the mood of the evening. He was too thirsty to think of much else as he leaned into her and his lips found her back then her shoulder and her neck.

She shivered again.

"Desmond..." she whispered, trying to keep herself together.

The feeling of his lips on her skin along with the alcohol they had consumed together was making her body feel heavy. She was giving in slowly but surely, but what she was giving into she wasn’t so sure.

"What if someone were to walk in?" she asked, continuing to whisper.

Her head had fallen to the side. She relished in his touch. It was warm compared to the cold she felt from the window.

"The door is heavy," he uttered. "We would hear someone before they could get in. Now enjoy the view while I continue to enjoy the view."

It was clear he wasn’t talking about the window as he lowered his lips to her neck again.

"You’re so precious," Desmond whispered. "How am I supposed to ever stop touching you?"

By that point, he couldn’t tell if he was making up for lost time or worrying about a future where they would have to be separated again. The thought of the war was looming over him.

He remembered being resentful when the mages and Stephano told him that he would never be able to be a proper soldier ever again. He was angry at being told what to do. Yet at that moment, he wished he was a little less able. All his efforts for people to see him as a person rather than an invalid were coming back to bite him.

Leonor was lost to the feeling of his touch. Even though she was supposed to be paying attention to the view, her eyes had drifted shut and her lips hung open as she experienced bliss only her husband could give her.

His lips on her body were only the start, it seemed.

As he started to lose his mind and rely on her to take away his thoughts, his fingers got carried away by the laces of her dress and he loosened them enough that her dress would lower and her breasts, which were being pushed up and together by her corset were easier to access.

Leonor knew what they were doing was inappropriate but she told herself ’just that once then never again’ to justify it. He was carried away and carrying her away with him.

Despite how tight her corset was, Desmond managed to free one of her breasts and he pinched the supple peak which caused Leonor’s legs to grow weak and one of her hands went to her mouth.

She had never worn such clothing while participating in an act like that. Properness and desire were clashing miserably and she didn’t know which feeling she should follow.

Desmond sobered up when a moan escaped his wife’s parted lips and his eye widened.

"I must cover you up," he suddenly said. "We have an entire palace to ourselves. I’ll carry you the entire way."

Unsure of what Desmond was doing and still feeling hazy because of his touch, she was taken aback when he removed his outer coat and put it over her half-uncovered body. Her breast was put back in place as was her dress and he scooped her up.

There was an entrance nearby and, even though it was far from the entrance they should use to go to the Queen’s Palace, he would carry her and run the entire way.

He needed her at that moment.

Wasting any more time in front of others wasn’t suitable for the pressure of his surroundings.

He was doing everything he could to make up for the cozy winter they were supposed to have with one another. He vowed that they would have a cozy winter next year and nothing would get in their way.

They could pretend, at least for the night, that things were exactly as they wanted them to be.