Deceived, Yet Drawn to You - Chapter 103

Edmund carefully lifted Blair, who was sitting on his lap, and stood up. Blair swallowed dryly and wrapped her arms around his neck. He walked steadily to the bed and laid her down on the soft blankets. The hand that had been crushing Rufus’s throat only moments ago gently brushed her cheek. He was careful, as if handling a glass doll that might shatter at any moment. It was the same hand, yet it felt like it belonged to a completely different person.

Why? Why was he being so gentle?

Edmund soon turned away, switched off every light in the bedroom, and returned to the bed. As his large frame drew close, the strong scent of soap spread through the air. Blair blinked as she felt the arm naturally pulling her into an embrace.

She still couldn’t tell whether this warmth was love directed at her, or desire aimed at a woman’s usefulness.

Distrust was painful. It kept wearing her down. Edmund was clearly the man she loved, and she felt deep satisfaction in his arms, yet the seed of doubt that had taken root didn’t let her rest for even a moment.

To anyone watching, she was receiving affection so intense it left no room for doubt, and yet she questioned its sincerity. That was why, even while being held by Edmund, she couldn’t fully lean her heart on him.

“Ed, do you remember?”

After steadying her breathing, Blair spoke without thinking. He answered not with words, but by slipping his hand into her robe and stroking her smooth abdomen, as if telling her to continue.

“You said you had no intention of having an heir at all.”

“I did.”

“That thought… hasn’t changed?”

The answer didn’t come right away. Even then, the slow-moving hand traced down her stomach, leaving a faint chill behind.

“No.”

Edmund answered calmly. Even though he clearly sensed every emotion behind her question.

“It’s changed.”

“…You want a child now?”

“And you?”

The hand that had been caressing her at an unhurried pace settled over her flat lower abdomen. Blair slowly turned her head and looked up at the man holding her. In eyes not yet accustomed to the darkness, she couldn’t make out Edmund’s expression.

“I….”

She hesitated, lips parting, then continued, “I’ve always wanted to bear the fruit of love.”

Raised to be a chaste woman, Blair lived her life believing it was shameful to be swept away by private emotions. To her, the mother who ran away chasing love was someone she could never understand.

She vowed she would never live like her birth mother. She hated and resented the woman who threw everything away, blinded by love.

How great could love possibly be, to enchant someone so completely and lead them down a path they could never return from?

As she spent more time alone, Blair often sank into those thoughts. She feared love that bound people and drove them to extremes. Then, one day, curiosity crept in. Somewhere deep in her heart, a desire to know love began to grow.

It seemed the blood of a woman who abandoned everything for love flowed through her as well. Perhaps it was the most secret inheritance she received from her mother.

Still, she never forgot for a single moment that she was someone who had been abandoned because of love.

Blair wanted to prove love in a different way. Without hurting others, without leading anyone to ruin, in a way that firmly bound two lives together.

Blair’s lips parted carefully.

“And… I think a child is the fruit of love.”

It was a belief she’d hidden for a long time, and a wish she’d never been able to confide to anyone.

Edmund, who had been listening in silence, pressed his lips to her forehead. He gently shared his warmth and let his voice fall over it.

“I feel the same way too.”

“….”

“You must be exhausted after today. Get some sleep now.”

Edmund whispered low as he pulled the blanket up over her. Nestled in his broad embrace, Blair slowly closed her eyes. She wished their hearts were truly the same. Because she couldn’t be certain, even after such an exhausting day, she lay awake for a long time.

***

Footsteps echoed heavily across the marble floor. They were steady and precise, like a machine following a predetermined path, without the slightest hesitation.

Impeccably dressed with nothing out of place, Edmund walked toward the reception room where the head of the house received guests, lost in deep thought the entire way.

“You said you had no intention of having an heir at all.”

He couldn’t fail to understand the intention behind the woman’s question.

“That thought… hasn’t changed?”

In the woman’s eyes as she looked at him, expectation, anxiety, and fear were tangled together in confusion. Blair couldn’t trust the man who’d confessed his love in Borsa.

“…Ha.”

Her doubt was justified. With the will stating that he could only formally inherit the title if he produced an heir now revealed, how could she possibly take his words at face value?

Trust, faith, love. They were always things that broke easily.

He agreed with Blair’s words that their relationship should have been settled before the will was revealed. But the past couldn’t be undone, and Edmund was a man who had never once looked back and regretted what had already happened. Regret was a useless emotion, one that only clouded reason.

“I think a child is the fruit of love.”

A child. It was a word that felt strangely uncomfortable, almost like a foreign object. In truth, Edmund’s opinion on the matter hadn’t changed.

He had no interest at all in preserving the family line or fulfilling some duty of blood and lineage. There was not even the slightest space in his mind for such things.

And yet, suddenly, a single possibility came to mind.

The simple thought that Blair might bear his child created a crack in a mind sealed tightly by reason.

Come to think of it, a child was the strongest bond that could bind a woman forever.

Talk of love and its fruits were nothing more than expressions born from a hungry heart, but a bond formed by blood was different. Even if one wanted to sever it by force, it couldn’t be cut. That was blood.

Something that could bind her and himself together forever.

In that moment, Edmund fully understood what Blair meant by “the fruit of love.”

Because he judged that saying he wanted a child would be more effective than any confession.

“I feel the same way too.”

And so those words were sincere, without a single grain of falsehood.

Moreover, standing before a woman who might already be carrying his child, how could he possibly say he didn’t want an heir?

Edmund reached the door of the reception room and paused briefly before extending his hand and pushing it open. As he stepped inside, Isabelle, who had been standing by the window, turned to look at him and raised her brows. Her face was sharp with venom.

“We meet often these days, Mother.”

“You’re a seed of misfortune.”

The room, bathed in the morning sunlight, suddenly cooled.

“Every time I see you, misfortune spreads through this entire house.”

Judging by how she spat out words like a curse without preamble, she must have been deeply shaken by what happened with Rufus. Edmund let out a short scoff and lowered his gaze.

“I assume you summoned Rufus as well.”

“…That child isn’t feeling well. If it concerns family matters, it’s enough to relay them to me.”

Isabelle crossed her arms defensively.

“If you have something to say, say it and be done with it. I don’t have the leisure to sit and drink tea with you.”

“Then I won’t refuse.”

Since she disliked wasting time, there was no need to bother with courtesy. Edmund continued speaking where he stood, without even sparing a glance at the refreshments growing cold.

“Sending one’s son to marry into Rorschach isn’t a decision just any noble can make. His Majesty carefully considered our intentions and even sent gifts as a sign of commendation.”

“…So?”

“The gifts are a ceremonial sword bestowed in honor of House Libert, and a townhouse located near Rorschach’s overseas mission. It’s close to central Borsa as well, a rather fine place.”

Edmund curved his lips into an impeccably polite smile.

“I’ll be sharing them with you as well, Mother.”