Married To Darkness
Chapter 296: Their Scheming Connection.

Chapter 296: Their Scheming Connection.

For a moment, silence reigned. Lucius could hear her rapid heartbeat spike, a flurry of hesitation flooding her thoughts.

When she didn’t respond, he turned the handle and stepped inside, his movements unhurried but purposeful.

The sight before him was almost endearing. Jean stood in the middle of the room, her dress half-adjusted, her hair only partially pinned, and her cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and frustration.

Her wide eyes met his, and she quickly looked away, clutching the edges of her gown nervously.

"I—I’m sorry, my lord- Lucius" she stammered, her voice trembling. "I didn’t mean to—"

Lucius raised a hand, silencing her gently but firmly. "Breathe, Jean."

She blinked at him, startled.

"You’re panicking over nothing," he said, his tone calm yet compelling.

He walked toward her, each step deliberate, until he stood close enough to catch her gaze.

His crimson eyes softened as they met hers, and he tilted his head slightly. "You’ve attended to Salviana flawlessly a thousand times. this morning is no different."

Jean swallowed hard, her fingers still nervously twisting the fabric of her gown. "But this morning is so... grand. Everyone will be watching, and I—I don’t want to make a mistake."

Lucius sighed lightly, removing one of his gloves and tucking it into his pocket. "Jean, do you think anyone is foolish enough to notice your presence when Alaric, Salviana and the king is in the room? She’ll command every gaze, every whisper. Your job is simply to ensure she shines—and you’re more than capable of doing that."

Her lips parted, as though she wanted to argue, but the sincerity in his voice stopped her.

"Look at me," he said gently, and when her eyes finally met his again, he offered her the faintest of smiles. "You’re better than this fear. You’ve stood beside Salviana during tougher moments than a mere birthday celebration. This is nothing but pomp and feathers. You’ve got this."

Jean felt the weight of his words settle over her, and for the first time that evening, her shoulders relaxed slightly.

She nodded, a small, tentative smile forming on her lips.

Lucius stepped back, giving her a once-over before arching a brow. "Now, shall I fix your hair, or do you think you can manage that without my help?"

Her cheeks flushed again, this time with a mix of embarrassment and amusement. "I—I think I can manage," she said softly.

"Good," he replied, turning toward the door. "I’ll be waiting outside. Don’t keep me waiting too long, or Salviana will have my head."

Jean let out a small laugh, feeling lighter than she had in hours. "Thank you, Lucius."

He paused in the doorway, glancing back at her over his shoulder.

His expression was unreadable, but his voice carried a note of warmth as he said, "You’re welcome. Now hurry up, Jean. The evening won’t wait for you."

With that, he stepped out, closing the door behind him.

Outside, he leaned against the wall, twirling the umbrella absently in his hand.

He could still hear her heartbeat—steady now—and it brought a small, satisfied smirk to his lips.

Inside, Jean took a deep breath, standing taller as she adjusted her gown and pinned the last of her hair.

She had a job to do, and she wasn’t going to let her nerves win. Not this morning.

Lucius took a step closer to Jean, the black umbrella momentarily forgotten as he studied her face.

His crimson eyes, sharp yet inexplicably soft, locked with hers—those wide brown eyes filled with nervous energy and vulnerability.

For a moment, the tension in the air felt almost tangible, a thread stretched taut between them.

Jean shifted slightly, her fingers fidgeting with the edge of her gown. "I’m sorry for making this harder than it needs to be," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.

Lucius tilted his head, his smirk faint but present. "Harder? You think this is hard for me, Jean?" he asked, his tone teasing but low, resonating like a steady hum in the air.

Her cheeks flushed, but she managed to hold his gaze this time. "I just... don’t want to disappoint anyone. Least of all you."

Something flickered in his eyes, a spark of something deeper, before his lips curved into a rare, genuine smile.

He stepped even closer, the space between them narrowing until he could feel the warmth radiating off her skin.

Slowly, he reached out, his gloved hand brushing against her arm before pulling her gently into a hug.

The embrace was firm yet unhurried, as though he wanted her to feel the steadiness of his presence.

She froze for a moment, caught off guard, but then relaxed into him, her head lightly resting against his chest.

"You couldn’t disappoint me if you tried," Lucius murmured, his voice soft and near her ear.

His scent—something dark and woodsy with a faint metallic undertone—seemed to wrap around her like a second embrace.

Jean pulled back slightly, just enough to look up at him. Their gazes locked again, and for a heartbeat, neither moved nor spoke.

His crimson eyes were intense but lacked the judgment she had feared; instead, they held a quiet reassurance.

"You’re the heart I want to please most, at least," Jean said with a small, playful smile, her voice tinged with a mix of mischief and sincerity.

Her words made Lucius chuckle, the sound low and rich.

He shook his head slightly, his black hair falling just enough to shadow his sharp features. "Careful, Jean," he said, his tone light but edged with something deeper. "Words like that might give a man ideas."

Before she could respond, he leaned down and brushed a kiss against her cheek.

The touch was brief but lingered just enough to send a shiver down her spine.

Then, with a sly grin, he flicked his tongue lightly against the spot he’d kissed.

Jean let out a surprised laugh, pulling back with wide, incredulous eyes. "Lucius!" she exclaimed, her cheeks burning a bright pink.