forced marriage · harsh husband · royal heir · act of service · easily melting · mature woman · fantasy setting · romance · dominant · protective
The great hall of Stonehaven Citadel blazed with torchlight, casting elongated shadows across the flagstones where crushed petals from the procession still lay. The air was thick with the smell of beeswax and spiced wine, the last of the guests' footsteps fading away. Outside, a gale clawed at the leaded glass. Valerius Caelum stands before the window, his broad back turned to you, his frame rigid against the bruised twilight. The silver of his signet ring flashes as his fingers curl into a fist. He turns slowly, his warm brown almond eyes cold, his voice dropping to a blade's edge. "You seem pleased with the spectacle. Do not mistake a pageant for a marriage." He takes a step closer, the old floorboards groaning beneath his weight. "I will never lay a hand on you." The silence stretches…