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"Thank you," Eloise spoke softly as they prepared to part ways for the night, "for joining me in this retreat."
"Thank you," Bernard echoed, his gaze lingering on hers with unspoken promise, "for allowing me the honor."
The echo of their footsteps faded as they exited the library, the weight of the stories they read—and the unwritten ones they had begun to create together—lingering in the air like the subtle scent of roses still permeating the space they had vacated.
Stepping out of the library, Eloise felt the brush of Bernard's hand against hers, a delicate touch that signaled an end to their literary escape. She turned to face him, her heart conducting a symphony of beats that quickened with his every step closer.
"Goodnight, Bernard," she whispered, her voice a tender melody dancing in the grandeur of the silent corridor.
"Goodnight, my dear Eloise," he replied, his voice low and resonant. The space between them dwindled to nothing as he leaned in, his lips meeting hers in a kiss that crackled with the electricity of newfound passion. It was a fervent departure from the gentle peck of the previous evening; this was a kiss etched with desire, one that spoke volumes beyond words and lingered like the afterglow of a setting sun.
As they finally, reluctantly parted, Eloise's breath came in soft gasps, her eyes alight with the fire kindled by their embrace. "Tomorrow," she began, steadying herself with thoughts of duty, "I must give a speech at the local orphanage. It's about the value of children for volunteers—how they contribute to our future."
Bernard's eyes shone with admiration, reflecting the depth of his respect for her commitment. "That's a noble cause," he said, his gaze never leaving hers. "Would you... might I accompany you? Our people should see us united in such worthy endeavors, and truth be told, I want more time in your presence."
Eloise's cheeks bloomed with a rosy hue, her smile betraying her delight. "I would be honored," she replied, her formality tinged with the warmth of shared laughter and intimate moments from the day.
"Then it's settled," Bernard declared, the corners of his mouth curving into a grin that promised camaraderie and support. "We'll stand together, for the children and for the future."
They parted ways with hearts full and minds racing, each pondering the significance of the day to come—a day that would undoubtedly weave their lives together in the tapestry of public service and private affection.
A short while later, Eloise collapsed onto the expanse of her silk sheets, the opulence of her royal bedchamber a stark contrast to the whirlwind of emotions tumbling through her heart. The lingering warmth of Bernard's kiss was still on her lips, stoking the fires of desire within her dreamscape. As she surrendered to sleep's embrace, the world around her faded to a realm where only they existed.
In the theatre of her mind, the scenes began to unfold with decadent detail. Beneath a tapestry of stars, in the royal garden, dream Bernard led her in a dance that was far more than a mere waltz. His hands were both tender and commanding upon her waist, guiding her movements to the rhythm of their shared heartbeat.
"Your Highness," he teased in her dream, his voice a low melody, "I fear we are scandalously close to impropriety." But his eyes twinkled with mirth, and Eloise found herself laughing, the sound airy and free.
"Then let us be improper," she whispered back, emboldened by the fantasy, her voice laced with a playful daring that felt as natural as the breath in her lungs. She twirled under his arm, her gown billowing like the petals of the roses he had gifted her, and when she returned to his chest, it was with a deliberate press that left no space for anything but the electricity between them.
The dream shifted, a chameleon changing hues. Now they were seated side by side in a cozy library, the scent of leather-bound books mingling with the essence of the roses still clutched in her hand. Bernard's gaze was not on the tome before him, but rather on her, studying the curve of her cheek, the parting of her lips as she read aloud a passage from a romance novel that made even the dream air crackle with anticipation.
"Would you... might I..." he stumbled over his words, mirroring their earlier conversation, but this time with a roguish glint in his eye that spoke of desires unvoiced. "Might I be the hero in your story, my lady?"
Laughter bubbled up again, light and melodious, as Eloise leaned closer to whisper her assent. And then, there was nothing but the meeting of their lips, the dream spiraling into a passion that echoed the fervency of their real-life parting.
Eloise stirred slightly, her body ensnared by the sheets, just as her heart was entangled with thoughts of Bernard. A contented sigh escaped her as she drifted deeper into slumber, lost in the fantasy of a love that was as profound as it was playful. Her dreams were filled with the promise of a future shared between them.
Chapter Six
The royal limousine glided through the morning haze, its polished black surface slicing through the mist like a sleek vessel on a silent sea. Inside, Eloise sat with her gaze fixed on the leather-bound speech resting in her lap, the words she would soon deliver to a sea of expectant faces at the orphanage volunteers' gathering.
"Mind if we chat?" Prince Bernard's voice broke through her focus. "I've been contemplating something rather close to my heart."
"Of course," she replied, her eyes lifting from the text.
Bernard cleared his throat, a touch more formality threading into his words as if he were about to propose an amendment to a state treaty rather than indulge in light-hearted banter. "Eloise, I'd be quite honored if you would consider visiting Allenia with me. It's...well, it's a part of who I am, and I find myself longing for you to see it—to perhaps love it as much as I do."
The hint of vulnerability in his request struck a chord within her. The thought of traveling to his homeland, walking the streets he had roamed as a boy, and witnessing the landscapes that had shaped him into the man beside her—it was an intimate invitation.
"Bernard," she began, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth, "I would be delighted to visit Allenia. Your country is steeped in such rich history and culture." She paused, her practical side surfacing. "But we must wait until the weekend. My schedule is a tyrant, and it demands my full attention during the week."
"Ah, the weekend," he mused. "A splendid time for a getaway. I shall count the days—and perhaps plan a few surprises to ensure the visit is unforgettable."
"Surprises?" Eloise echoed, a laugh escaping her. "Your penchant for the unexpected is both thrilling and mildly terrifying, Bernard."
He grinned, the warmth of his joy infectious. "Then my work here is done," he declared, settling back against the plush seat with a satisfied air.
Eloise turned her attention back to her speech but found her thoughts adrift, sailing toward the promise of a weekend in Allenia, beside a prince who could coax laughter from her with effortless ease.
