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Chapter 92
“Let’s kiss properly. Not this childish play.”
I was speechless at the sudden proposal from the Grand Duke.
Before I could react, he pressed his lips to mine with urgency.
Our lips met and pressed together like a seal.
Soft flesh rubbed slowly against mine, steadily stealing the red from my lips.
It was a kiss full of youthful awkwardness, like someone tickling the bottom of your heart with downy feathers.
The moment I realized our lips had touched, I instinctively shrank back. The vermilion I was holding fell to the floor with a loud clatter.
My eyelids snapped shut. As my vision went dark, his heated breath invaded my ears. Though it was a shallow contact—our lips barely brushing—the warmth was transmitted fully.
His rough, calloused hands cupped my cheeks. He held my face in place and rubbed his lips against mine with an impatient insistence, as if he wanted to take all the color from my lips.
My heart jumped at the clumsy kiss. In a flustered panic, I pressed my hand against his chest. The vermilion left a trail in the groove of his chest where my ring finger had touched.
With a soft sound, our lips separated.
We opened our eyes, foreheads pressed together.
The Grand Duke’s eyes were flushed red. He panted as he gently stroked my cheek. His dull, unfocused gaze lingered on my lips before rising to meet my eyes. There was an unripe, raw passion in his deep gaze.
“Were you very surprised?”
Despite his heavy breathing, his voice was soft, like a flower petal.
“Yes, a little.”
“…I’m sorry.”
He stepped back slightly and apologized, his ears red. He looked like a boy clumsily drowning in his first love, which made me smile.
“I thought it would be better to leave a definite mark than just a sloppy dab.”
He blushed slightly as he defended himself.
“Well, you did well. It’s evenly applied.”
I replied casually, though my heart was still fluttering.
This kiss was nothing like the ceremonial kiss at the wedding. Back then, it had been as dry as a desert; now, it felt hot and humid, like a tropical night.
I felt a strange sense of self-consciousness. It wasn’t my first kiss with a man, nor was it a messy, tongue-tangled kiss…
So why did my heart make such a ruckus over this simple contact? It felt as if all the kisses I had experienced in the past had been bleached white in my memory.
“It tastes like pomegranate.”
The Grand Duke licked his lower lip and narrowed his eyes at me. The vermilion on my lips gleamed wetly from his saliva, which was highly stimulating. I watched, momentarily dazed.
Ah, no. I need to focus. We’re about to enter the hyena’s den.
“It’s vermilion made from pomegranate juice, so it would taste like pomegranate. Shall we go in?”
“Wait.”
Just as I turned toward the door, he stopped me.
“Why?”
I asked, keeping my expression calm.
“Is it enough to mark just the lips?”
“…Huh?”
I looked up at him blankly as he stepped closer. He tilted his mouth up and pointed to his neck.
“Mark here too.”
“….”
Was this shameless or bold? I was dumbfounded and stared at him.
“Do you refuse?”
He asked, his voice slightly softened. I shook my head and went up on tiptoe.
Smack.
I pressed my lips firmly against the spot he indicated.
Beyond the skin of his neck, I felt his pulse racing. He inhaled deeply, lowering his eyes tightly.
I placed my heels back on the floor and looked up at him. My lips had left a mark on his smooth, deep-rose skin.
“You don’t need to act today, Grand Duke.”
“…What do you mean?”
He asked, absentmindedly touching the neck with my vermilion mark.
“You’re already a man of charm.”
I rose onto my tiptoes again and whispered into his ear. He froze in place, as if broken, not moving for several seconds. I giggled and took his arm, heading toward the banquet hall.
The Grand Duke and I entered Barbican Hall side by side.
Under the brilliant chandelier lights, every step we took along the red carpet drew dozens of gazes.
The royal family and noble lords of Levantea, ruling over fragmented territories of Dvorca, and their families and lovers—all watched silently as we entered, champagne glasses in hand.
A solemn orchestral concerto played softly.
The closer we got to the crowd, the more I could see the trajectory of their gazes. First, they admired the Grand Duke’s bold, stylish attire. Next, their eyes went to the red marks on his lips and neck, mouths agape. Finally, they were shocked at the vermilion on his chest, eyebrows raised.
I acted oblivious, resting my hand on the Grand Duke’s arm and waving to them.
The Grand Duke walked calmly by my side, maintaining his usual impassive expression. He raised one arm to greet the nobles, eliciting exclamations from the ladies whose eyes met his.
Finally, as we stopped in the center of the hall, the crowd surged toward us.
Count Lucio Marcanelo stepped forward quickly to meet us.
“Wow, seeing you two is blindingly beautiful! Our Grand Duke’s husband is even more handsome than at the wedding.”
The Count was King Salesio’s illegitimate child—technically my youngest maternal uncle. As usual, he approached the Grand Duke first with a cheeky smile.
He was the lord of Carison, a southern city of Dvorca bordering Levantea.
Once the railway is built in Dvorca, he would lay the first tracks there. Urgency is implied.
“How have you been, Count Marcanelo?”
“Of course, I’ve been counting the days until I could meet our Grand Duke.”
The Count extended his hand toward me, joking. Born from a maid-turned-mistress, he inherited King Salesio’s red hair and gray eyes, resembling me quite a bit.
Lately, he had been teasingly calling me “Grand Duke,” which annoyed me. Since he himself was a prince but couldn’t be called one, it felt like extra mockery.
“Your Excellency, Count.”
The Grand Duke shook the Count’s hand in my stead. Afterward, he wrapped his long arm around my waist, pulling me close. My back pressed against the cold epaulette on his chest.
“Whoa, I’m blind, only now noticing.”
Count Marcanelo rubbed his eyes. Only now did he notice the red marks on the Grand Duke’s lips, neck, and chest.
He alternated looking between the Grand Duke and me, then exclaimed with awe.
“So our Princess Alisa’s husband is loved with his entire being.”
The Count smirked.
“…Indeed.”
The Grand Duke replied indifferently, tightening his arm around my waist. The sudden pressure made me inhale sharply.
Curious, I glanced sideways at him. His violet eyes sparkled with a subtle madness as he faced the Count.
The Count looked slightly intimidated and turned his head to me, winking.
“Princess, shall we step aside and have a word over champagne? I know everyone wants to speak with you, but as someone of shared blood, I’d like priority in conversation.”
“What could you and I possibly discuss? These days, the only person I speak seriously with… is our Davit.”
I stroked the Grand Duke’s arm as I asked, trying to bring the topic forward quickly.
“Haha. You surely know already. Hasn’t His Majesty recently approved the railway in Dvorca?”
“Ah, you mean you want to lay tracks on Dvorca land. Since the first station will be in your estate, Count, it’s almost a pilot project.”
I pulled out a feather fan from my handbag and opened it. I noticed the nobles behind the Count pricking up their ears. I could feel all their attention focused on me.
“You’re well informed. Then let’s start our discussion—.”
“Hmm, what to do. As you know, Count, I’m a busy person. I’m a minor duke of Lasante, a marquis of Blansque, and now the Grand Duke of Levantea. So Dvorca contracts are…”
I closed the fan and smoothed the Grand Duke’s collar with its tip.
The Count’s gray eyes rolled back to the Grand Duke.
“I’ve decided to leave that to the ruler of Dvorca’s Grand Duchy. Anyone wanting to work with metal in this land should consult my beloved husband.”
