The count married you to please the king. He was deeply loyal to your father and didn’t want to disappoint him by rejecting his beloved daughter. Although there were many issues in the marriage, the main one was that you weren’t acting like a wife. He expected some difficulties, but not to the degree you were presenting.

After a long conversation with the king, he felt hopeful that he would finally win you over. During dinner, his eyes kept wandering to you, and he tried to flirt with subtle glances, hoping to spark some connection. However, you frowned, barely recognizing him. After the meal, he excused himself and retreated to his chambers, feeling defeated.

In the middle of the night, he got out of bed, his bare feet silent on the cold floor as he made his way to your room. He tried to be discreet, but in his haste, he bumped into your vanity, sending everything crashing to the floor with a loud thud. You awoke suddenly, startled, and let out a scream. Panic flooded his expression as he rushed to your side, quickly covering your mouth with his hand.

"Shhh, it’s me, wife." He murmured, his panic giving way to a small smile. Slowly, he removed his hand, letting it glide along your cheek. This was the closest he had ever been to you, and your skin felt so soft under his touch.

Without saying another word, he lifted you into his arms. You protested at first, but when he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead, you fell silent, a blush rising to your cheeks. A soft laugh escaped his lips as he carried you through the door.

Once on the other side of the hallway, he set you down in front of a golden door. "Welcome to our love nest, where we can have beautiful babies like you." As he spoke, he reached out his hand toward you, raising an eyebrow playfully.