Divorce The Duke, Marry The King!
Chapter 86: Resist you

Chapter 86: Resist you

"Y-Your Majesty," the maid stationed outside stammered, dropping to her knees in greeting.

"Who is inside?" Hezekiah demanded, his fists clenching at his sides. He already knew the answer, he just wished, for once, that he was wrong.

"The..." the servant began but was swiftly cut off by the sound of the door opening.

Quinn stepped out, shutting it gently behind him before taking a deliberate step forward. He stood tall, utterly unbothered by Hezekiah’s presence or the guards around him.

"I was hoping this wasn’t true," Hezekiah muttered darkly, his gaze sharpening as he took in the sight of Quinn emerging from the room.

"It wouldn’t have been," Quinn responded, slipping his hands into his pockets, "if you had kept your promise."

A low chuckle rumbled from Hezekiah’s throat, though it held no humor.

"It was a misunderstanding," he said coolly. "One we will settle between ourselves. You are nothing but an intruder, you have no right to interfere."

With that, he moved to step past Quinn, intent on entering the room, only for Quinn to block his path.

"Do you remember what I told you?" Quinn’s voice dropped, dangerously low. "I don’t mind killing anyone who hurts her. That includes you now. I am not leaving her with you until she awakens."

Steve’s hand instinctively went to his sword, ready to strike at Hezekiah’s command, but his king raised a hand, signaling him to stand down.

"You are only making things worse for her by staying at her side," Hezekiah murmured, stepping closer. "Surely, you remember the lengths you went to in order to silence the rumors at the castle. How many tongues can you cut out here?"

Quinn stiffened.

Hezekiah smirked, knowing he had struck a nerve. Quinn had never been one to yield under pressure, but if anything could push him back, it was the threat of dragging her into a scandal and hurting her.

Around them, servants had begun to gather, their eyes darting between the two men, sensing the tension crackling in the air.

Jaw clenched, Quinn cast a cold glance at Hezekiah and hissed, "If you ever put her in this state again, you will lose her forever."

Then, without another word, he turned and stalked away, his presence radiating quiet fury as he vanished into the night.

Hezekiah exhaled, his patience thinning.

"Wait outside," he ordered Steve before stepping into the room.

His gaze immediately found Belle, lying still on the bed. Moving toward her, he sank onto the mattress beside her, taking her delicate hands in his own.

"Please," he whispered, his grip tightening. "Stop running to him. I will do everything you want."

If she wanted the slave bidding to end, he would put an end to it. If she wanted reforms, he would give them to her. Whatever he needed to do, he would, to keep her by his side.

Anything, except letting her go.

She had become his obsession, the one person he refused to lose.

His expression darkened as he lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a slow kiss against her knuckles.

"Must you force my hand?" He murmured bitterly, lowering his head in resignation.

If she would not stay willingly—then he had no choice.

She would be his.

Soon.

A few hours later, Belle’s eyes fluttered open, squinting as she tried to make sense of her surroundings. Turning to her right, she found Hezekiah asleep beside her, his hand still clasping hers.

"Hezekiah?!" She called, pushing herself upright. Confusion settled over her as she tried to piece together how he ended up here. It was Quinn who had brought her to this room, how then, was it Hezekiah sitting at her side?

Reaching out, she tapped his shoulder. He stirred at her touch, his eyes opening before a soft smile graced his lips.

"You are awake," he murmured. "Did you sleep well?"

Belle gave a small nod, returning the smile.

"How are you here?" She asked, though she knew it wasn’t the real question she wished to voice. And Hezekiah, ever perceptive, knew it too.

"He left a few hours ago," he answered. "He did it to protect your reputation."

Her heart clenched at the words. So typical of him. Always leaving when she least expected it. He had promised to stay before she fell asleep, suddenly, he had changed his mind? Reputation, indeed.

Belle’s expression hardened. "I never asked about him," she muttered. "Let’s get back to the hall before people start worrying."

With that, she withdrew her hand from his grasp, slipping out of bed and making her way toward the door.

Hezekiah said nothing, merely nodding before extending his hand for her to take. Together, they made their way back to the banquet.

As they stepped into the grand hall, Belle’s stomach twisted with guilt. The sky outside had already begun to darken, she had slept far longer than she had intended. She had only meant to rest for a moment, but that bed had been far too soft, luring her into slumber.

Then, a faint memory surfaced—gentle fingers stroking her hair, lulling her into peaceful sleep. A warmth spread through her chest at the recollection. Had it been Hezekiah? The thought unsettled her. She had to admit, whoever it was, it had given her a sense of security unlike anything she had felt in a long time.

"Thank you for stroking my hair," she murmured to Hezekiah, offering him a grateful smile.

Hezekiah, however, merely blinked in confusion. Stroking her hair? He had done no such thing. It seemed there had been some sort of misunderstanding.

Just as he opened his mouth to correct her, a well-dressed couple approached, their faces alight with warmth.

"Your Majesty, Your Grace," the man greeted, his smile infectious. "A lovely evening to you both. How has the banquet been treating you?"

Belle chuckled. "Considering I slept through most of it, I will have to give a partial review."

The couple burst into laughter.

"The King must have kissed our sleeping beauty awake," the woman teased, earning another round of amusement.

Before Hezekiah could respond, a familiar voice called from a few steps away.

"Your Grace, did you sleep well?"

The conversation stilled. Heads turned toward the voice.

Belle’s heart dropped.

The couple before them parted their lips in shock, their gazes landing on the man standing just beyond them.

"The Duke of the North," the gentleman whispered, eyes widening. "I had no idea you were here... and with a woman."

Standing tall, Quinn merely smirked, his arm resting casually around the waist of a striking lady at his side.

"Well, you know," he drawled, voice rich with amusement. "It’s hard to sit still when you have a beautiful woman beside you. We decided to hold our own little banquet elsewhere."

Belle barely held back an eye roll. Of course. Trust Quinn to make a spectacle of his indecency. No wonder he had left her behind. It must have been so difficult for him to resist his latest distraction.

"Your Grace, you have not responded," Quinn prodded, making the moment all the more uncomfortable for her.

"Yes, I slept well. Thank you for your concern, Duke of the North," she replied coolly, her tone formal and detached.

His lips curled into a smirk, and she arched a brow in response.

"I am pleased to hear it," he said smoothly. "Though I must admit, I had other thoughts in mind."

Belle clenched her jaw. Only a fool would miss the insinuation laced in his words.

"I never knew the Duke of the North to be such a friendly man," the gentleman beside them remarked, clearing his throat. Of course, the friendly in his statement carried an entirely different meaning.

Sensing the thickening tension, his wife promptly tugged his arm. "We shall take our leave now," she announced, dragging him away before they could be further entangled in the unfolding scene.

"Your Grace."

Quinn’s voice halted Belle mid-thought. She turned sharply, her gaze locking onto his, brows furrowed in question.

Extending a hand toward her, he urged, "Would you do me the honor of a dance? The floor is open."

A scoff escaped Hezekiah as he immediately stepped between them.

"Her husband is right here," he said coldly. "She has no need for another man to dance with."

Before either of them could respond, the host’s voice rang out from the stage.

"Oh my! Is the Duke of the North requesting a dance from our future Queen?"

A murmur swept through the crowd as all eyes turned to them.

"That idiot," Hezekiah muttered under his breath, watching with clenched fists as Quinn’s smile stretched wider.

"So, I ask again." Quinn’s voice was smooth, deliberate. "Would you like to dance with me?"

The crowd erupted in cheers before Belle could even process an answer. She felt Hezekiah stiffen beside her, his grip on her tightening before he exhaled sharply and stepped aside.

Her lips curled into a strained smile. "Sure," she said, though the enthusiasm was nonexistent. Reluctantly, she placed her hand in his.

As they neared the dance floor, her forced smile faltered when Quinn pressed her hand lightly in his grasp. She frowned, tilting her head up to meet his gaze.

"Smile," he commanded, his tone soft but firm.

For a fleeting moment, she nearly lost her composure, but then she caught sight of the onlookers and forced herself to breathe. She mustered the most convincing smile she could, standing stiffly before him without so much as lifting a finger to hold him.

Quinn chuckled. "I have never seen anyone dance like this before."

Without warning, his hands found her waist and pulled her in.

"Ahh!" Belle gasped, startled by the sudden motion.

From across the room, Hezekiah stiffened, his jaw tightening as he forced himself to remain composed. It will be over soon, he reminded himself. It has to be.

"Place your hand on my shoulder," Quinn instructed. "And relax."

Belle swallowed her irritation and did as told, allowing him to lead as they swayed across the dance floor.

"What did you dream of?" He asked, his voice lower this time.

She narrowed her eyes. "That is none of your concern. But I must thank you for finding me a very comfortable bed."

He chuckled, clearly pleased that her spirit remained unshaken.

"There are far more comfortable beds in my estate," he murmured. "Like our matrimonial bed. It is always open to you."

Belle’s fingers twitched before she dug them sharply into his shoulder in warning.

"Ouch," he whined, feigning pain.

"I know that didn’t hurt a..."

Before she could finish, he abruptly bent her, his arm firm around her back as he leaned in.

Belle inhaled sharply, her breath catching in her throat. His obsidian eyes bore into hers, dark and unreadable, his presence overwhelming. Her heart pounded.

How long had it been since she last studied his face this closely? The sharp lines, the faintest shadow of stubble, the way his lips curved in that infuriatingly knowing way.

The way her body tingled against her will.

"Belle," he murmured, his breath brushing her skin. "What if one day, I find myself unable to resist you?"

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