CHAPTER 77

JUST US..

The morning sun streamed softly through the curtains, painting the room in golden hues. Abigail stirred against Luke’s chest, her body still nestled within the comfort of his embrace. The memory of the night lingered on her skin his words, his touch, the way he had looked at her like she was the only woman in the world.

She blinked lazily, a small smile tugging at her lips.

Luke was already awake, watching her with an expression that made her heart stumble. His hand moved slowly up and down her back, absent, almost possessive.

“Good morning,” she whispered.

“Good doesn’t even begin to cover it,” he murmured, his voice still husky from sleep. He kissed her forehead, then her lips, lingering as though he couldn’t pull away.

Abigail let out a soft laugh. “You’re insatiable.”

“Only when it comes to you.”

He pulled back slightly, his eyes glinting with mischief. “Come with me.”

She blinked. “Where?”

“The bath.”

Her lips parted, caught between shyness and intrigue. “Together?”

“Together,” he confirmed, a slow smirk spreading across his face. “Unless you’re suddenly shy of me after last night.”

Abigail’s cheeks flushed. “Shy? Hardly.”

Luke chuckled and rose from the bed, pulling her gently up with him. He led her into the adjoining bathroom, where the marble tub stood like a centerpiece beneath tall windows spilling in daylight. The scent of jasmine oils already lingered in the air the servants had prepared it earlier, never guessing how intimately it would be used.

Luke turned the taps, letting the water rush in, steam curling upward as he poured in the oils. Then, without hesitation, he began unbuttoning his shirt, his eyes never leaving Abigail’s.

She swallowed, her fingers fiddling with the belt of her robe. “You enjoy watching me squirm, don’t you?”

“Every second of it,” he admitted, stripping off the last of his clothing.

Her breath caught. No matter how many times she saw him like this, her body responded like it was the first time. Slowly, she let the robe slip from her shoulders, followed by the thin nightgown beneath.

Luke’s gaze swept over her, heat flashing in his eyes. “Perfect,” he said simply.

He stepped into the tub first, then offered his hand to her. Abigail let him guide her in, the warm water enveloping her skin. She settled against him, her back resting on his chest, his arms circling her waist under the water.

For a while, they said nothing, only the sound of the water and their steady breaths filling the room. Luke’s lips brushed the damp curve of her shoulder.

“This,” he murmured, “is what I want. These quiet mornings with you. No interruptions. No noise. Just us.”

Abigail leaned back against him, her eyes closing as she soaked in the warmth of both the bath and his embrace. “It feels unreal,” she whispered. “Like I’ll wake up and find it gone.”

He turned her chin toward him, making her meet his gaze. “Then let me prove it’s not a dream.”

His mouth found hers again, tender at first, then deepening with the same hunger from the night before. His hands moved slowly over her body beneath the water, every touch deliberate. Abigail sighed into the kiss, her fingers tangling in his wet hair.

“Luke,” she breathed, her voice breaking softly as his lips trailed down her throat.

He pulled her onto his lap, the water sloshing gently around them. Their bodies fit together seamlessly, moving in a rhythm as old as desire itself.

The steam cloaked them, blurring the lines of the world beyond. Abigail clung to him, the edge of the tub pressing into her palms as he moved with her, every thrust echoing with promise.

Her soft gasps filled the air, mingling with his low groans. When the waves of release finally consumed them, it was shattering and tender all at once.

Abigail collapsed against him, her cheek pressed to his chest. His heartbeat thundered beneath her ear, steady, grounding.

Luke stroked her damp hair, his lips brushing her temple. “Do you understand now why you’re the only one for me?”

She smiled faintly, eyes fluttering shut. “I understand. And I’ll never forget it.”

They lingered in the water until it cooled, then Luke lifted her effortlessly in his arms, wrapping her in a thick towel before carrying her back to the bedroom.

Hours later, after they had dressed and eaten a late breakfast, a commotion stirred in the estate’s drawing room. Abigail and Luke were still together, seated close on the sofa, when a servant entered nervously.

“Sir, madam… Lady Obetta has arrived. She insists on seeing you.”

Abigail stiffened, while Luke’s jaw tightened.

“Send her in,” he said curtly.

Obetta swept into the room moments later, clad in an extravagant gown that screamed of overcompensation. Her eyes flicked immediately to Abigail, narrowing with disdain before sliding to Luke with practiced sweetness.

“Luke,” she purred. “I was in the neighborhood and thought to drop by.”

“You live thirty miles away, Obetta,” Luke replied flatly. “Don’t insult us with lies.”

Her smile faltered, but she pressed on. “I came because I’m concerned. About you. About this… arrangement.” Her gaze darted pointedly to Abigail.

Abigail straightened, her expression calm though her pulse raced.

Obetta folded her arms. “People are talking. They say you’re distracted, Luke. That Abigail is… manipulating you. I thought it best to warn you and besides Incase she needs to know I'm best for you.”she said with her expression giving off her bad vibes.

Luke’s lips curved into a humorless smile. “People have always talked. Their words don’t matter.”

“But they will matter,” Obetta pressed. “Your family’s reputation….”

“is intact,” Luke cut in sharply. “Because of Abigail. Not despite her.”

Abigail’s chest tightened, warmth flooding her at his defense. Still, she knew she could not stay silent. She leaned forward, her voice steady.

“Obetta, you waste your breath. Luke isn’t blind, and he certainly doesn’t need your guidance. Whatever schemes you’ve whispered in corners, whatever poison you’ve tried to spread it all comes back to you eventually. I won’t dignify it further.”

Obetta’s face colored, her composure cracking. “You insolent….”

“Enough,” Luke said coldly, rising to his feet. His presence towered, final. “This house doesn’t entertain slander. Leave before I have you escorted out.”

Obetta faltered, her lips pressed into a thin line. She cast one last glare at Abigail, then spun on her heel, storming out with her pride in tatters.

Silence lingered after her departure. Abigail let out a slow breath, her fingers twisting in her lap.

Luke turned back to her, his expression softening instantly. He sat beside her again, taking her hand. “You handled her well.”

“I didn’t want to give her more power than she already thinks she has,” Abigail said quietly.

“And that,” Luke murmured, lifting her hand to his lips, “is why she’ll never win against you.”

Abigail looked at him, her heart swelling with the certainty that no matter what schemes came their way, the bond they had built in passion, in trust, in fire was stronger.

That night, as they sat together in the gardens, Luke brushed his thumb across her knuckles. “Promise me one thing,” he said.

“What?” she asked softly.

“That no matter what Obetta or anyone else does, you won’t let them shake you. You’re mine, Abigail. And I’m yours. That’s all that matters.”

She met his gaze, her voice sure. “Nothing can shake me. Not when I have you.”

The moon rose high above them, silvering the quiet estate. And in that moment, wrapped in each other’s presence, they knew that even in the face of schemes and malice, their love was the strongest weapon they could wield.