Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual
Chapter 182: Fear Of Abandonment.

Chapter 182: Fear Of Abandonment.

Morning.

Carriage ride.

Critic-Ishire.

**************

As the gentle sway of the carriage rocked her back to consciousness hours into the morning, Lydia’s eyes fluttered open, the world around her coming into hazy focus.

The soft creaking of wood and the rhythmic clatter of wheels on cobblestones were the first sensations to greet her. Then a smell she breathed in with a smile.

Her vision slowly cleared, and she found herself nestled in the arms of her husband, Theo, he was the owner of the scent she could never forget.

Slowly her lips drew into a smile as her gaze traced his sharp jawline, her gaze then settled on his nose and it made her blush, that is the part of his body that he uses to sniff her and how she enjoys it. She blinked and the carriage came into view; its interior was dimly lit, with flickering lanterns casting warm, dancing shadows on the polished wooden panels.

And as she returned her eyes to her husband she caught Theodore’s concerned face hovering above her, his sky-blue eyes searching hers for signs of pain or distress. His golden locks, tousled and gleaming even in the low light, framed his strong, chiselled features, making him appear almost angelic in her dazed state.

"Welcome back Gooseberry love" he bellowed.

"My lord husband" she rasped.

"Lydia," he whispered, his voice a soothing balm to her. "Are you all right, my love?" his palm caressing her face.

She nodded weakly, her head still heavy, but a smile continued to tug at her lips.

The warmth of his broad shoulders against her felt like a protective shield, a sanctuary where nothing could harm her.

She lifted a trembling hand, her slender fingers tracing the line of his jaw, feeling the smooth skin and the faint stubble that pricked nicely against her touch, she loved it.

"I’m fine, Theodore," she murmured, her voice soft and raspy. "Just a little faint," she added.

Theodore’s relief was palpable. He tightened his hold on her, his embrace firm yet gentle, his blue eyes now brimming with tenderness, she was safe and alive in his arms. "You gave me quite a scare," he said, his tone lightening. "I could not bear the thought of anything happening to you, Of losing you again"

Lydia’s heart swelled with love as she gazed up at him, marvelling at how handsome he was without the knowledge that he thought of how appealing she was too.

She could see the depth of his concern etched in every line of his face, the way his brow furrowed slightly, and the way his lips pressed into a thin line when he was worried.

"Sometimes you say things I can never comprehend," Lydia confessed.

"We shall have a long talk when we get home," Theodore promised.

Curiously, Lydia asked. "About your secrets?"

He chuckled lightly, happy she was back. "Yes, most of them," he agreed.

"I love you," she whispered after a few seconds of silence, her finger now tracing the contour of his lips.

He caught her hand and pressed a kiss to her palm, his eyes never leaving hers. "And I you, more than words can say."

Ocean blue eyes holding the sincerest sky blue ones. "More than it can ever be comprehensible, Lydia, I love you because I breathe only to love, cherish and prove to you that this world is worth living in, for me and you, despite its cruelty" his words.

"Oh Theo" she purred, snuggling further into him.

They remained like that, locked in a tender embrace, the world outside the carriage fading into insignificance.

The bond they shared was unspoken yet profound, a love that could weather any storm, one that has indeed weathered all sorts of storms.

As the carriage continued its journey, Lydia nestled closer into Theodore’s embrace, her heart at peace, knowing she was safe in the arms of the man she adored and who adored her, Theodore finally felt at ease now that Lydia had awoken and started to drift to sleep, one he missed overnight.

"I remember now" Lydia started drawing the sleepy Theodore awake.

He prompted. "What do you remember?"

"Our wedding night" she let out dramatically.

"You slept off" he commented softly, fondness coating his words.

"I am not sorry I slept off but my word, I slept off," she said with a peal of breathless laughter.

Theodore had a silly smile on as his eyes gleamed with pride. Look how far they have come.

"You had shown Red to me that day in Hound’s garden," she said.

"Technically that garden is mine," Theodore pointed out playfully.

"The flowers are Hound’s babies," Lydia added.

Theodore gruntled in agreement.

"I woke up the next day and I barely remembered anything" she whispered with a frown.

"I am also unaware of what had happened," Theodore confessed with a sigh.

They wouldn’t know Lydia could have shut the memories out of her mind by herself.

"But yes, as you have seen, Red is a beast and the mansion has its little powers plus Shade and..." he trailed off.

"The lord himself?" she completed with a grin.

He met her gaze with a knowing smile. "Yes, and the lord and lady of the eerie mansion"

"We are going home" Lydia let those words roll out of her tongue again as she loved the sound of it.

"Yes we are, Gooseberry" Theodore with a smile.

Home is wherever she is, but comfort is where the bed lies.

*

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*

Afternoon.

Roadside Tavern.

Critic-Ishire

*********

The afternoon sun cast long shadows on the dusty road as the travelling carriage creaked and rattled its way towards the small, nondescript tavern that stood at the edge of the forest, Conan remembered from their constant travels.

Theodore, suddenly stern with sharp eyes, sat beside Lydia in all of her refined grace, her face half-hidden by a wide-brimmed hat adorned with a single white feather.

The carriage was drawn by two large, bay horses that snorted and pawed the ground impatiently as the coachman pulled on the reins. As they neared the tavern, Blanc, with his weathered face and a strong grip, called out, "Whoa there!" The horses slowed to a halt, their breath was visible in the slowly growing cool afternoon air.

Conan and Tom clad in rough but serviceable knight clothes, rode up alongside the carriage. Conan’s eyes constantly scan their surroundings.

Blanc dismounted first, stepping down from his perch and opened the carriage door with a respectful nod, he had been asked never to open the door for Lydia whenever Theodore was around because, in the lord’s words, that was only part of the little he should do for his Gooseberry and ’do not touch my wife in my presence’

Theodore stepped out, his polished boots crunching on the gravel. He adjusted his cloak, a fine piece of deep blue wool trimmed with silver, before extending a hand to help Lydia descend.

Lydia took it gracefully with a smile, her own attire was a masterpiece of modest elegance her eyes met his and she quickly dropped it because of the intensity of his gaze, with a high-necked gown of soft green silk and a small, intricately embroidered purse dangling from her wrist she stepped out of the carriage while biting her lips. She had gained back her strength through the travel and they needed refreshment.

The small party approached the tavern, its wooden sign creaking in the breeze making Lydia frown, she had never been inside a building like this, it was simple, made of weather-beaten planks and a thatched roof, with a stone chimney that hinted at the warmth within. Okay then.

As the door swung open with a squeak, the loud drum of conversation from inside abruptly ceased. The patrons, a mix of rough labourers, weary travellers, and a few local villagers, turned to stare at the newcomers.

Lydia resisted a nervous frown, she then remembered they were accustomed to such reactions, so they held their heads high as they entered further.

The two horsemen, Conan and Tom followed, their eyes hard and vigilant, while Blanc brought up the rear, closing the door softly behind him.

The tavern was dimly lit, with a low ceiling and the scent of roasting meat and stale ale hanging in the air. A large fireplace dominated one wall, its flames casting flickering shadows across the room.

For a moment, there was silence and they watched the entering group with weird interest. The lord’s presence, with his commanding aura and rich attire, contrasted sharply with the humble surroundings. Lydia, despite the simplicity of her gown, radiated an air of refinement that seemed almost out of place in the rustic setting.

Conan carried himself with a certain rugged authority easily as he was a knight with rich parents, Toms’ unconcealed curiosity both their hands never straying far from the hilts of their swords as they regarded the crowd.

Theodore, still very relaxed as he held onto his wife’s palm keenly watched Lydia’s step.

"One girl, three bad men? Let me save you, me girl!" one of the men seated at the loudest table roared. Lydia felt blood rushing to her face so she looked down instantly.

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