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Bernard leaned back against the mountain of pillows, his shirt unbuttoned, revealing his sculpted chest. A mischievous smile tugged at his lips as he watched her approach. "Only if you promise it's as sweet as you."
With the grace of a doe stepping through an enchanted forest, Eloise perched on the edge of the bed and extended her arm, the strawberry pinched deftly between her fingers. As Bernard opened his mouth, she hesitated for a mere heartbeat before placing the fruit onto his tongue, her fingertips grazing his lips.
He took her wrist gently, guiding her hand away, his eyes never leaving hers. "Delectable," he murmured, but whether he spoke of the fruit or the moment was ambiguous.
Without another word, the supper was forgotten. They found themselves entwined in a dance as old as time, their bodies moving together in a symphony of passion.
MORNING SUN TRICKLED through the sheer curtains, casting a warm embrace over the slumbering couple. Eloise stirred, her lashes fluttering open to the dawning day, and there beside her lay Bernard, his chest rising and falling in the peaceful rhythm of sleep. A tender smile graced her lips as she brushed a lock of hair from his forehead.
"Good morning," she whispered, her voice soft as the silken sheets that enveloped them.
"Is it morning already?" Bernard's voice rumbled. His eyes opened slowly, focusing on her.
"Yes, and we have a breakfast to attend." Eloise rose.
Hand in hand, they descended the grand staircase to join her family in the dining hall. The room hummed with the quiet symphony of morning—a clinking spoon here, a rustling newspaper there. They took their seats amid the familiar faces, all smiles and morning pleasantries.
"Mother, Father," Eloise began, her voice steady as she reached for Bernard's hand under the table, "we've decided to leave for Allenia tomorrow morning."
A chorus of understanding nods greeted her announcement. They spoke of logistics and travel arrangements, but beneath the practicalities swirled an undercurrent of emotion.
For now, though, laughter peppered the conversation, and jests were passed as easily as the butter dish. The future loomed large and bright, but today, they basked in the comfort of familial warmth, savoring the final shared moments before the journey onward.
The breakfast concluded with a procession of empty dishes and a silent summons from Queen Beatrice's eyes. Eloise excused herself, her feet carrying her with the grace of court training to the sun-drenched drawing room where her mother awaited.
"Eloise," the queen began, "I have to ask—how do you fare? Truly?"
Eloise, taking her seat on a plush chaise longue opposite her mother, felt the warmth of sunlight streaming through the tall windows. She sensed the weight of the question, yet her heart was light.
"Mother, I am...so happy," she replied, the corners of her lips curving into a smile. "Bernard is everything noble and kind."
"Wonderful," Queen Beatrice said, her keen eyes softening as they took in the genuine elation etched upon her daughter's face. "And the nights? Are they... accommodating?" The queen's eyebrow arched in a manner that danced between decorum and mirth.
"More than accommodating, Mother," Eloise answered, a rosy blush painting her cheeks.
"Ah, then my heart rests easy." The queen's laughter tinkled like fine crystal. "Just ensure that amidst your explorations, you both remember to emerge for air—and royal duties."
"Of course, Mother." Eloise's giggle escaped before she could catch it, as light and airy as the bubbles in a glass of champagne. "We shall not forget the world beyond our door."
With their intimate exchange concluded the time for parting drew near. Eloise found herself enveloped in the arms of her family. Her father's hug was sturdy. Her siblings' clung with playful sorrow, teasing her about who would now bear the brunt of their mischief.
"Promise you'll write," her mother implored, her eyes shimmering pools threatening to spill over.
"Every week," Eloise vowed, the knot in her throat tightening. "And you'll visit soon. Allenia is but a journey away."
Her goodbye to the queen was last—a moment suspended in time, a portrait of love's tender resilience. Queen Beatrice held her daughter at arm's length, examining her.
"Go forth,” the queen whispered, her voice quivering like a note held too long. "Take joy with you and find it again in your life with Bernard."
Eloise fought the tide of tears, feeling them breach her lashes despite her best efforts. With a final kiss to her mother's cheek, she stepped back.
"Goodbye, Theron," she murmured, allowing herself one sweeping glance at the tapestry of her upbringing. "Hello, tomorrow."
Chapter Twelve
Eloise laughed as she attempted to keep pace with Bernard, who moved with effortless grace. The newlyweds were exploring the vast expanse of their temporary sanctuary, a tradition of royal honeymoons, yet they imbued it with a freshness that seemed to cleanse the grounds.
"Look there," Bernard pointed toward an ornate gazebo adorned with climbing roses, their petals a riot of crimson and pink. "That's where my great-grandparents danced under the stars, whispering sweet nothings into the wee hours of the morning."
