Chapter 17

Hannah's fingers moved slowly as she began to undo his shirt, soft and careful, as if she were unwrapping something precious.

As the fabric fell away, the strong lines of his body came into view. He looked like a statue carved by a master, every line speaking of strength.

Her breath quickened. Her fingers trembled.

Then the man's eyes snapped open.

They were confused, but sharp with wariness. He saw her above him, then glanced around at the unfamiliar room. His voice was ice.

"Who are you?"

Hannah's body went rigid. She hadn't expected him to wake so soon.

But his eyes were still hazy. The wine hadn't left him.

She didn't panic. She drew a slow breath and answered in a low, soft voice.

"Who I am doesn't matter. What matters is that tonight, I'm yours."

Her voice was full of mystery and allure, as if it could slip straight into his soul.

He stared at her lovely face, and a strange sense of déjà vu stirred in him. He lifted one large hand and brushed her cheek, feeling the warmth of her skin and breath.

It felt so real that he couldn't tell whether he was awake or dreaming.

His eyes darkened, and his voice turned husky. "You... you look like a fairy."

She smiled, dazzling. "Do you like it?"

His throat moved. "Mm."

She bent down and kissed him. The faint sweetness of her lips made his breath grow heavy.

His eyes burned. In the next moment, he pulled her down against him, and the air between them turned thick with heat.

The rest of the night passed in a blur of passion.

Morning light slipped through the window.

Hannah slowly opened her eyes and was struck at once by aches all over her body and a pounding head.

Then the memories came flooding back like a tide. She realized exactly how reckless she had been.

She turned her head carefully and looked at the man sleeping soundly beside her. Then she looked down at herself, and regret flooded her face.

Hannah, you wild, shameless thing...

She rubbed her temples to calm herself and crept out of bed, searching the floor for her scattered clothes.

Once dressed, she looked back at him, still asleep, and a strange feeling stirred in her. She felt like one of those faithless scoundrels who vanish the moment the night is over. It left her guilty and confused, yet she also knew that last night had been beyond her control.

She stood still, thinking.

Should I slip away as if nothing happened? Or stay and face him, and confess everything?

After a fierce struggle, she drew a deep breath.

Let me leave first.

She walked softly to the door, opened it, and slipped out, leaving behind a man still lost in sleep and a room full of silence...

The two guards were already waiting outside. They bowed at once.

"Good morning, Miss! Breakfast is ready. Shall we serve it now?"

Hannah hushed them with a sharp gesture, afraid of waking the man. She glanced nervously at the door, then seized both guards by the arm and hurried away.

After a while she finally breathed out. Only then did she notice she was still in yesterday's clothes, and they smelled of wine.

She frowned. "Get me another room. I need clean clothes. Bring breakfast there, and once I've eaten, take me back to the Harrington house."

The guards obeyed without a word and worked quickly. Soon she stood in another clean, comfortable room.

She closed the door, went into the bathing chamber, and slowly undressed.

In the mirror, her body had lovely curves and smooth, delicate skin, with a soft glow. But when she saw the red and purple marks scattered across it, her cheeks flushed.

They looked like brands, and they brought back the wildness of the night. Every detail rose in her mind, vivid and impossible to push away. Her heart raced and her face burned.

She closed her eyes and tried to bury the memory deep, but it clung to her like a stubborn vine.

She could still feel a lingering warmth on her skin, as if her body wanted to remind her how real it had been.

She drew a deep breath and steadied herself.

She knew that these memories would become her secret, and would fade with time.

But for now, she wanted to keep that shyness and recklessness to herself, as a memory that was hers alone.