34: 34 The Sleeping Dragon (AVOT)

34 The Sleeping Dragon (AVOT)

Awakening from a deep slumber felt as though she was being pulled from the sweet depths of heaven itself. Her sleep had been serene and uninterrupted, a rarity she had experienced only twice in recent memory. It was so blissful, she desired nothing more than to let herself sink back into the comforting embrace of slumber. Yet, the soft light filtering into the room suggested it was day and the time for waking had arrived.

Stretching her limbs, she marveled at the unexpected softness of her bed, the fabric under her felt like a caress against her skin. However, as her eyes fluttered open, her gaze was greeted by an unfamiliar ceiling. A moment of disorientation washed over her before reality descended with a jolt, causing her heart to lurch in her chest.

She was married!

That single thought echoed around her mind like a bell. She was a married woman. This was her new home, a place she now shared with her husband - the Marquess, Lord Blackthorne.

A whirlwind of memories from the previous night rushed back, causing her to turn abruptly to her left, her breath hitching as she encountered the still figure beside her.

Rhain.

He lay unmoving, an image of stillness that bordered on the uncanny. His breathing was barely perceptible, and his face was so serene in sleep that it seemed to emulate a deadly, dangerous beauty. His skin, so peculiar and different, held a supernatural allure. It was as if he was carved from moonlight, so perfect and unreal.

His raven hair splayed out on the pillow contrasted sharply against his pale skin, creating a tableau that was eerily captivating. His high cheekbones, straight nose, and those lips which were often curved in a sardonic smile, were now relaxed in sleep. 

A strange compulsion drew her hand towards him, a desire to trace the contours of his face, to confirm the existence of this mystery lying beside her. As her fingers inched forward, scarcely grazing his cheek, his skin was surreal, almost too perfect, yet it felt just like any other beneath her fingers.

And his hair… she had to reassure herself about his hair as well. 

Her hand moved next to his hair, dark strands shimmering in the light, beautiful like the night sky. She allowed a few strands to glide between her fingers, their silken texture sparking a strange warmth in her belly, compelling her to retract her hand hastily.

The strands fell to his neck, and her eyes traced the path his hair took, wandering down his strong neck and straying further down to the open collar of his shirt. Nestled against his chest was a silver necklace, disappearing into his shirt. Her initial hesitance gave way to curiosity, and her hand reached out to grasp the necklace.

Suddenly, her wrist was snatched in an iron grip. Her heart leaped into her throat as she jerked her gaze back to his face. His eyes were open now, piercingly bright and alert, taking her in with a measured intensity that made her feel like prey caught in a hunter's gaze. The slight hint of surprise in his eyes was quickly replaced by his familiar, cool demeanor.

"You're awake," he said, his voice deep and gravelly from sleep. His grip on her wrist remained firm yet not painful, holding her hand still.

"Yes, I…" she stuttered, completely taken aback by his abrupt wakefulness.

His gaze dropped to where he held her wrist, then back to her face. His grip loosened, but he didn't let go. Instead, his fingers gently traced over her pulse point.

"Curiosity killed the cat, Daisy," he murmured, an unreadable expression on his face. His touch was cool against her heated skin.

Despite the chill in his touch, his gaze felt like it was searing through her. She was sure he could hear the loud beating of her heart, and the rapid fluttering against his cool fingers was a clear indication of her nervousness.

"I didn't mean to…" she started, but her voice trailed off. What was there to say? She had been caught red-handed.

"To touch?" A single eyebrow arched upward in amusement. "While I am sleeping? That is… unexpectedly daring of you," Rhain said, his lips curled into a teasing smirk. 

Daisy's face burned with mortification, her words caught in her throat, silenced by her embarrassment. 

Rhain watched her with an amused gleam in his eyes, "Do tell, dear wife, have you always had this penchant for exploration?"

"No…" Daisy stuttered, a fiery blush spreading across her cheeks. How was he able to turn a simple act of curiosity into something so mortifyingly intimate?

"Your actions beg to differ," he replied, a teasing lilt in his voice. "Don't fret, Daisy. Your touch is welcomed. Though I must warn you, rousing a slumbering dragon could lead to... unexpected outcomes."

"Unexpected... outcomes?" Daisy blinked, confusion lining her face. Was that a veiled warning or a jest? Was he annoyed?

"Indeed, my lady," he drawled, "A sleeping dragon, when awakened, might feel compelled to... entertain its awakener."

She knitted her brows in puzzlement. "Entertain?"

"Yes," he confirmed, his eyes now fully open, amusement dancing in their depths. "And a dragon's idea of entertainment might differ quite drastically from a lady's."

His response left Daisy feeling both flustered and intrigued. His words, whilst appearing lighthearted on the surface, bore an undercurrent of something else that compelled her to ponder on his meaning of 'a dragon's entertainment.' 

However, she decided it was probably best not to pursue that line of questioning any further. She nodded, not trusting her voice enough to respond verbally.

As she attempted to rise, his fingers tightened around her wrist, halting her movements. "I should go make breakfast," she suggested, stealing a sidelong glance at him.

A hearty chuckle rumbled from his chest, the sound enveloping the room and creating a flurry of butterflies in her stomach. "Ah, Daisy," he began. "I have to confess, I would enjoy breakfast in bed this morning. but you need not trouble yourself with preparation."

It then occurred to her that in this new life, she would not be responsible for such tasks. But then, what was she supposed to do with her time?

"Nevertheless, I should at least prepare your breakfast once," she insisted, a soft determination in her voice.

He let go of her wrist then, his face adopting a more serious demeanor. She remembered he couldn't enjoy food like she did, so he might not share her enthusiasm.

"If you insist," he conceded, his voice carrying a tone of bemusement.

Just then, a soft knock echoed at the door. "That must be the servants. Perhaps, you should enjoy your bath first." He turned his attention to the door. "Enter," he called out, and soon, three female servants stepped in, two of them effortlessly carrying an elegant tub.

"My Lady, a warm bath has been prepared for you," one of them announced, her voice respectful yet warm.

Daisy could only stare as the other two servants followed, arms laden with towels, vials of aromatic oils, combs, and delicate razor blades. The sight of these items seemed out of place for her. In her previous life, such luxury was reserved for special occasions, and yet here they seemed to be part of a routine bath. The ceramic tub, towels made from the finest cotton, oils extracted from exotic flowers, and an intricate silver comb - it was overwhelming. It was as if every item was a reminder of the enormity of the change in her life.

Her gaze darted back to Rhain, surprise widening her eyes. 

"You may find a bath quite soothing after yesterday's flurry of events," he offered, an unreadable smile playing on his lips. "The servants are here to tend to your needs..." His voice dipped lower, a spark of mischief igniting in his eyes, "...and yet, I'd be more than pleased to extend my assistance should you desire it."

His assistance? Her mind whirred in disarray.

Rhain issued a low chuckle at her reaction. "Very well, Daisy," he yielded, his voice rippling with jest, "I'll leave you to the capable hands of the servants. Though I must admit, I am a tad bit disappointed at the lost opportunity of... further exploration."

He slipped from the bed and moved towards the door, his gait graceful and assured. A hint of regret flashed across his eyes as he left the room, leaving her behind in the care of the servants.

The servants went about their work with practiced efficiency. A trio of maids began to prepare the bath, their hands moving in well-practiced synchronization. They poured vials of scented oils into the warm water, filling the air with the rich aroma of blooming flowers. Another maid laid out a fresh gown, intricately embroidered and heavier than any she had worn before. 

Daisy was guided into the bath, a peculiar sensation of vulnerability washing over her as she was meticulously cleaned and pampered. The feeling was foreign, awkward at first, but as the warm water relaxed her muscles and the scent of oils calmed her mind, she began to adapt to this new routine.

After the bath, the servants assisted her in dressing. They gently combed through her hair, braiding it with skilled fingers into a cascade of soft braids and curls. The end result left her looking regal, a transformation that stunned her as she caught her reflection.

Once ready, she asked the maids to lead her to the kitchens, intent on preparing breakfast for her husband. She still stumbled over the word 'husband' in her mind. 

The journey led her through grand halls and winding corridors, with each turn a reminder of the vastness of their home. Upon arrival, the bustling kitchen stunned her with its enormity. Polished counters lined the room, each station manned by a servant who worked with quiet efficiency. The aroma of baking bread and brewing coffee wafted through the air, igniting a newfound enthusiasm in her.

She inquired about Rhain's preferred breakfast from the servants, but each of them seemed to evade her question with a polite smile or an unsure shrug. 

"Lord Blackthorne isn't enthusiastic about food. He eats whatever is served." One of the servants explained. 

"Does he have anything favorite to drink?" Daisy asked. 

They glanced at each other, and then the maid smiled. "Nothing I know of." 

"Alright," Daisy said as she pulled up the sleeves of her dress, deciding to make something with a little more seasoning so Rhain could taste it. 

Eventually, she decided to prepare a simple yet hearty meal. A plate of scrambled eggs, well-salted, lightly browned toast, a pot of fresh honey, and a cup of strong coffee. It wasn't grand, but it was made with care and attention, which she hoped would appeal to her husband. 

In the grand dining room, Daisy assisted the servants with the table settings. Despite their polite protests, she found herself arranging the cutlery, laying out the napkins, and even helping with the placement of the delicately arranged floral centerpiece. The act gave her a comforting sense of normalcy amidst the grandeur of her new surroundings.

The eldest of the servants, a kindly woman with streaks of silver in her hair, introduced herself as Mrs. Cooper, the housekeeper. Her role was overseeing the overall management of the house and its staff. Next was Eliza, a young woman with a bright smile who served as Daisy's personal maid. Armand, a soft-spoken man with a polite demeanor, was the butler responsible for all meals and other fine details of the house. Lastly, there was Agnes, a sweet girl who was responsible for maintaining the cleanliness of the rooms. Daisy, in turn, shared a bit about herself, trying to connect with them to remove the awkwardness. It was strange to be served. 

The servants were polite, but they remained steadfast in their professionalism, not sharing too much or prying either. 

Their interactions were interrupted by the sound of the grand double doors creaking open, and Rhain made his entrance. His presence seemed to instantly change the atmosphere of the room. His dark hair fell in a perfect sweep, the morning waves now neatly combed back. Although he had changed, he wore a casual attire but there was nothing casual about the way he looked. 

As he neared, Rhain's gaze moved slowly over the breakfast spread, each dish meticulously prepared and beautifully presented. His expression was inscrutable, the corners of his mouth set in a straight line as his eyes scanned the array of foods. 

For a moment, Daisy thought she saw a flicker of something across his face. It was gone as quickly as it came, replaced a stoic expression. Was it discomfort? Or perhaps distaste? She hoped he would like it a little at least.  1

His gaze flitted to her, and he offered a small, tight-lipped smile. It didn't reach his eyes.

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