My Beloved, Whom I Desire to Kill - 281
—Because that bastard might show up and bother you while I’m asleep.
—It won’t work even if he tries to bother me. I have a plan, too.
He wouldn’t have done something like this without a plan. Lorenz will have no choice but to listen to Giselle. He must be restless, having gotten on Giselle’s bad side with his lies. Most of all, he would still want to keep the secret.
—I’m disappointed that Edwin Eccleston is the kind of bad man who leaves his lover alone right after their first night.
When she landed the winning blow, Edwin had no choice but to surrender. He took off the clothes he had put on and got into bed, turning off the lamp. Her heart fluttered at the rustling sound the man made as he moved.
The body that embraced Giselle gently carried the same scent as her. Their lips softly met.
—Sweet dreams.
—You too.
She probably wouldn’t have sweet dreams. Her heart was pounding so hard she wouldn’t be able to fall asleep.
Would she find out about his sleeping habits tonight?
She had forgotten, despite experiencing it earlier in the day, that she couldn’t resist this man’s body heat. Before long, she was fast asleep.
When morning came, she would know how Edwin would wake Giselle up. But she thought Lorenz would wake her first.
Occasionally, in her sleep, she felt movement under the blankets. The sensation of a person, not a dog, in the same bed was unfamiliar, and when she shifted, he would pat her chest or back as if lulling a baby to sleep.
He didn’t wake her up—could it be Edwin? …….Wait, it’s Lorenz, isn’t it?
Giselle, who had drifted back to sleep, pushed his face away when a plump, warm piece of flesh gently pressed against her lips, and she squinted her eyes open.
—Are you pushing me away now that you’ve had enough fun? Giselle Bishop is a bad woman.
It’s not Lorenz?
The moment her eyes went wide, a languid smile greeted her.
—Your Majesty, it’s time to rise.
When she was little, he would wake her with, «Princess, it’s time to wake up.» She had somehow been promoted to a Queen.
And when did it become morning anyway? Did she really have to wake up so early on a weekend?
Assuming the man, who woke up at the same inhuman time even on his days off—a habit from his time at the military academy—had woken her early, she glanced at the nightstand and was horrified. The clock hand was approaching eleven.
—My goodness…
—It’s time for the sleepyhead lady to wake up.
—How dare you call your Queen a sleepyhead!
She should have woken up earlier. She had revealed her disheveled morning appearance completely.
As a matter of fact, she had woken up to his kiss and smelled mint on his breath. The man was dressed in his shirt and pants, back to his usual neat appearance. She didn’t want to show him how she looked right after waking up, but she did want to see Edwin’s disheveled state. She had enjoyed a good view of it last night in this bed and in the bathroom, but it still wasn’t enough.
Next time, I need to wake up earlier.
Giselle groggily sat up, rubbing her eyes while still hunched over, combed her hair with her hands, and only then lifted her head. In the meantime, the man, who had opened the window wide, picked up a teacup from the nightstand, which gave off a fresh aroma, and held it out to her. Bringing tea in the morning was always the duty of the maids in the Duke’s mansion.
—So this is the power of a Queen: being served tea by a Duke.
—A man who faithfully obeys a royal command to be woken up with a cup of tea—isn’t he fit to be a Prince Consort, Your Majesty?
He was subtly bringing up marriage again. It made her chuckle that this man, who had vehemently refused the position of Prince Consort, was saying such a thing.
—But when did I ever ask to be woken up with a cup of tea? Aren’t you confusing me with another woman?
—You said it yourself. In the morning, wake me up with a fragrant cup of tea… It was only after Edwin suddenly hummed the lyrics that Giselle remembered. She had adapted the song «Give Me a Goodnight Kiss, Master Sergeant» for this man.
—Give me a goodnight kiss, Lieutenant Colonel.
—If you sing that one more time, I’m going to actually kiss you.
And she knew that warning was no empty threat.
—The part about kissing me if I sang that song again—you meant it, didn’t you? Oh dear, you must have been dying inside because I stopped singing without realizing.
—I regret it even now. If I had kissed you then, we’d probably be married already.
—I don’t think so. We’d just be a couple who started dating a month or two earlier.
Joking around made her throat dry. Only then did Giselle bring the teacup to her lips. The cool, refreshing scent of the moderately cooled peppermint washed away the last vestiges of sleep.
—Now that you’re awake, shall we go down before breakfast gets cold?
My goodness, he had even prepared breakfast.
When she went downstairs, a tablecloth with delicate embroidery was draped over Giselle’s small dining table, and ceramics with an unusual sheen and silver utensils were neatly laid out. They were all items from the Duke of Eccleston’s estate.
It was only now that she realized servants from the Duke’s estate must have come, given that Edwin’s shirt and pants were different from yesterday.
Everyone will know as of today. That I’m the woman he’s seeing. And that we had a passionate night yesterday.
Her face flushed.
Then Mr. Royce, Rita… they already know more than this, don’t they?
Thinking of those who had witnessed her truly embarrassing past helped her blazing face cool down.
This was the first time she’d had such a lavish breakfast since leaving the Duke’s roof. Edwin seemed to remember her preferences from that time, as the egg dishes and bread were all to her taste from those days.
She spread a generous amount of fresh butter mixed with honey on a warm brioche and munched on it, watching the man tilt the teapot over her cup. His gaze was sweeter than the bread in her mouth. His eyes were always full of love, but today the feeling was different.
What has changed?
As she pondered and looked into his eyes, Edwin, who was similarly staring at Giselle, lifted the corner of his mouth into a playful smile.
—Why are you staring at me like that? Do you want a kiss?
—No.
When she curtly denied it, his eyes narrowed as if he were annoyed, but the look in them remained.
—Your eyes look different when you look at me.
—You too.
Me, too?
—They’re soft.
Ah. That was it.
—Usually, there’s a certain firmness to them. Maybe you melted because last night was so hot.
—To be saying such lewd things in broad daylight, did you become a different person overnight?
Only then did she remember Lorenz, whom she had completely forgotten. Giselle looked at the coffee-filled cup of the man who only drank caffeine when he was sleep-deprived and asked,
—You didn’t sleep well because you were worried Lorenz might show up, did you?
—No, I didn’t sleep. I was watching you sleep because you were so cute. I didn’t even realize the sun had risen.
—Do you have night-vision goggles attached to your eyes?
—It’s standard equipment for a Colonel.
Giselle briefly forgot the purpose of her conversation because she was laughing.
—I’m going to go get some sleep, so think about what you’d like to do tonight.
Today was Lorenz’s turn to spend time with Giselle. But since Edwin had gained the ability to defeat him, there was no way he’d hand Giselle over.
Or maybe…
—He’s not dead, is he?
—Not yet.
—…….
—Why?
—Ah… just… it’s sudden… Doesn’t it feel a little anticlimactic that something you tried every method for suddenly resolved so easily?
—I agree. Though for me, it probably wasn’t such an easy problem to solve, which is why it turned into an illness. So, Giselle, I’m grateful to you.
Listening to his praise—that she was an angel who not only returned to his side after being innocently caught up in his illness and getting hurt, but also healed him—made her blush, and she understood firsthand why this man had established a rule long ago.
—Didn’t we forbid the word ‘grateful’ between us?
The man who had broken his own rule laughed, as if he couldn’t help it, and lifted his coffee cup.
—And don’t worry. As long as we love each other, that devil will eventually vanish.
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The day came to report on the progress of Operation Weasel.
Since the Director of Intelligence was personally overseeing it, the field officers gathered around the round table in the Director’s office. Since there were only three people in charge, Giselle, still the lowest-ranking, was tasked with presenting the report. She placed the report on the Director’s desk, sat down, and began.
—I will now begin the report. My operation to replace Lemming is proceeding smoothly…
All four officers around the table paused, and her sentence abruptly stopped mid-word. The Director, flipping past the cover of the report, raised an eyebrow, Major Hawkins looked expressionless as if he hadn’t heard anything, and Lieutenant Latimer openly frowned at Giselle. It was because her voice, which had been shaky from the start, had broken so audibly.
—I apologize.
—Never mind the verbal report. I’ll read it, and you just answer my questions.
The Director brought Giselle a glass of water, crossed his legs obliquely, and began to skim the report. Lieutenant Latimer leaned over to Giselle, who was trying to look calm while drinking the water, and quietly asked,
—Why is your voice so hoarse these days?
Because of the stray dog wearing the solemn mask of the Director.
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