The Maid and The Usurper - Chapter 65
Layla’s soft lips parted slightly, and she placed her hand on his chest, trying to push away. But Leopold’s grip on her wrist tightened, pulling her closer. His hand gripped the back of her head firmly, drawing her in a tight embrace..
This was no longer the timid and powerless boy he had once been. He could now hold on to things more tightly—whether it was people, money, honor, power, or anything else. He was no longer the helpless young boy who could only stare blankly at her retreating figure.
It was a hard, insistent kiss. Layla’s hand clutched at his collar. He wished she would cling to him the way he clung to her. With a hot breath, Layla pulled away. Her face, flushed and breathless, was a sight to behold.
Slap.
The sharp sound reverberated in the small carriage. Layla’s hand trembled from the force of the blow. She had hit him hard enough to split his lip. Leopold traced the blood with his fingers.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“I thought you wanted everything between us to be clear. So I showed you what I want, Layla.”
He wrapped his arms tightly around her waist. Yes, he missed all of this. Her violet eyes looking up at him, the coolness of her skin, her tiny face. Yes, he could feel it now, It was everything he had missed.
“I got a little rough and dirty in my mercenary life, but here I have to play the part of a proper gentleman.”
So, everything he was about to say from now on was merely a bluff. It was his resolve to no longer be led around by her.
“So, you have to be my partner.”
His damned body wouldn’t even react if it wasn’t Layla. In this situation, he was the weak one. So, he had to hide it as much as possible.
“So, let me know when you’re ready. That’s all I want, and as you said, it’s the only proof that I can trust you.”
“You’ve changed.”
“That’s not for you to say.”
Leopold wanted her to be hurt as he was, but at the same time, he didn’t want her to be hurt. He didn’t know what he wanted anymore, either. If I had seen a Layla that was completely different from the one he remembered, he wouldn’t have been so confused. Even now, at this moment, she was still the same Layla he remembered.
“The cold and aloof Princess Orléans.”
He stroked her pale cheek. There had been rumors about her, that the Princess of Orléans was as cold and sharp as a blade. While he thought that could very well be her, he felt no contempt but rather, concern. He thought himself so pathetic to be that entangled with her.
“The next time we meet, I’ll come to you as a gentleman and a knight, not as a mercenary who’s been rolling on the battlefield.”
He wanted to meet her just like at that small ball where they danced under the moonlight.
“Wait for me. I’ll come soon.”
He released the arm wrapped around her waist just as the carriage came to a halt. Layla fell back to her seat across him, as if nothing had happened, her expression nonchalant. Leopold felt a strange sense of loss at the distance between them now.
Foolish as it may be, Layla remained the center of his world.
* * *
The chandelier’s light gleamed brilliantly. The Marquis of Paltz’s banquet was attended by society’s luminaries, grouping themselves with their kind. However, among the distinguished guests, only a few managed to captivate everyone’s attention. One of them was the Princess of Orléans.
She is, without question, the noblest lady in all of Argen. As a result, all eyes are focused on her every step. Tonight was no different, but there was someone else who drew equal attention.
“For a mercenary from the battlefield, he’s surprisingly handsome and refined.”
Every glance, every hushed conversation was a compliment. His neatly slicked-back hair, contrasted by the deep navy blue suit and his broad, muscular build, made him appear more imposing than the renowned Marquis of Bard in his younger days.
“And so polite, too.”
His adherence to etiquette was flawless. Layla watched Leopold approaching from afar, observing him over the rim of her glass. He was completely different from the man she remembered. The man who used to feel out of place in such gatherings now blended in effortlessly, like water.
