To My First Love, With Regret (Libenia) – Chapter 25

Author: Piki

“In that case… I’ll pretend not to notice.”

“Thank you, my lady. For your generosity — I will repay you with such passion that your lovely voice goes hoarse, until I have nothing left.”

The man kissed the back of Eve’s head as she laughed — then soon fell still.

Did he fall asleep? How?

But Eve couldn’t sleep.

The arousal had faded — so it wasn’t unsatisfied desire. It was that all her senses had sharpened to their limits.

He must have used my soap.

The arm around her shoulder smelled of lavender. The damp breath against her neck made the hairs stand on end. Her skin burned from that heat. She’d already forgotten the cold of the sheets — and their rough fabric too.

The sensation of her beloved erased the entire world — and Eve couldn’t feel anything but him.

The arm holding her was heavy. She learned for the first time that weight pressing on your body could bring a sense of peace. But her heart found no peace — it pounded loudly.

His chest rose and fell steadily — now touching her back, now pulling away. Each time, Eve involuntarily held her breath.

In this flood of overwhelming sensation — sleep was an unforgivable luxury.

Saying that just sleeping in each other’s arms was boring — how stupid.

Afraid of waking the man who might have fallen asleep — Eve didn’t dare move a muscle. Immersed in sensations — motionless — she eventually allowed herself that luxury — sleep.

She woke faintly at dawn. The space beside her was empty. Only when she heard water running from the bathroom did Eve understand what had happened — and smirked.

Must have had a nice dream?

But Eve didn’t know something. She didn’t know that Ethan — entering the bathroom she’d used — had been aroused by the sweet scent left there and secretly masturbated. And that despite that — he’d still ended up with a wet dream.

A week had already passed since their escape. The duke’s household must have been in an uproar.

Let them suffer a little.

This was a trial her father brought upon himself — trying to control his daughter. Eve had only wanted to go to university. If he’d let her go from the start — would she have set her sights on the family fortune?

She only thought of her father during breakfast — which they usually ate together. Eve spent her days enjoying freedom — forgetting the reality she’d left behind.

They saw the eternal snow on the morning of their third day on the run. The landscape — where white winter met blue summer — was mystical.

Come to think of it — White Cliff, where white chalk met green fields, also created a unique view — but this was different — like up and down had swapped places.

Beneath the sharp — frozen-crescent — mountain peaks, herds of cows and sheep grazed peacefully. Grandeur and simplicity fit into a single frame.

The sight awakened inspiration — and simply absorbing it with her eyes wasn’t enough — she immediately opened her sketchbook and began to draw. But she didn’t finish a single drawing. Because beside her was the man who had completely captured her heart.

After wandering along the mountains like this for several days — they found a place where they wanted to stay. Montfleur. A village worthy of its name — “Mountain of Flowers.”

On the innkeeper’s recommendation — they rented a house for a month. A small farmhouse where an elderly couple had lived.

“The ground floor was where my son’s family lived, but they’ve moved to the city — so it’s completely empty. But I sweep and dust in there every day — so you can move right in.”

It was a two-room house overlooking beds of lavender and white sage — with a small kitchen and bath. The house had clearly been cared for as lovingly as the garden — which pleased Eve, who had recently discovered simple, natural beauty.

The grandmother who showed them the house looked Eve up and down and asked:

“By the way — how did a young lady from a noble family end up in a remote place like this? And without an escort — only one servant?”

They’d been mistaken again — for a rich young lady and her servant. It was all because of the accent.

Eve spoke Lavinian with an upper-class accent. Ethan also spoke Lavinian fluently — no worse than Eve — but he’d learned it from Lavinian sailors who came into Cliffhaven — so his speech mixed lower-class accents and slang.

When they explained that he wasn’t a servant but her fiancé — the old woman frowned and clicked her tongue.

“An unmarried man and woman living in the same house. Young people these days — tsk tsk tsk.”

They thought they’d be kicked out — accused of immorality — but instead, she lowered the rent. She said the financial situation of young lovers who’d run away due to parental opposition was obvious enough.

They spent an inspired day in their first real refuge — and the next morning — Ethan made a simple breakfast from what they’d bought at the market the day before.

He put the kettle on the stove and was cutting bread when Eve — hovering behind him — asked:

“Is there anything for me to do?”

Ethan — stunned — as if he’d heard Her Majesty the Queen announce she was going to wash the floors — repeated:

“Help?”

“Isn’t that polite?”

That answer made Ethan’s lips twist — he remembered something.

“Why would you need to be polite to someone beneath your status?”

“Those are Harry’s words. If you don’t like that I intend to be polite in our marriage — then fine.”

“Ah — in that case — welcome.”

He wrapped his arms around the offendedly turned-away girl — encircling her — and thought. Lady Evelyn has probably never done anything related to basic survival. She could burn herself on the kettle or cut herself with a knife.

“Could you get the plates and utensils from the cupboard and set the table?”

“Of course.”

She looked so pleased to have a task — so adorable — like a child wanting to help adults. In aristocratic society — Eve was an adult — knowledgeable and accomplished — but outside of it — she knew nothing — forced to rely on Ethan like an infant. He liked this unexpected vulnerability.

He moved the bread basket and the board of thinly sliced ham and cheese to the table — and was about to take the teapot off the stove.

“Everything quiet through the night?”

The landlady poked her head through the open kitchen window.

“Thanks to you — everything’s fine. Good morning.”

“Good morning…”

Eve was flustered that her paid space had been invaded without asking — but Ethan acted like nothing had happened — so she greeted her after him.

“I came thinking you two might be starving — but I see you’re managing just fine.”

The grandmother passed two eggs from her chicken coop and a jar of jam through the window.

“Thank you.”

Ethan opened the jam jar and tasted it with his finger. Sweet and fragrant apple jam — it would probably pair well with the rich cheese.

“This is the best apple jam I’ve ever had in my life.”

“The apples are from our garden — ho ho.”

Ethan’s compliment made the old woman’s face shine like midday.

“I want to try it too.”

Ethan scooped jam with his finger and held it out to her — and Eve licked the tip of his finger. In the devout old woman’s eyes — this brazen act looked very indecent.

“Goodness — not even married — acting like newlyweds. Like children playing house.”

“We’re getting married.”

The old woman’s eyes nearly popped out.

“When?”

“Today.”

The grandmother stared at them — as if she couldn’t digest what she’d heard — then bombarded them with questions:

“Do you have attire? A veil? A bouquet?”

Still asking — the grandmother hurriedly disappeared upstairs. She reappeared after they’d finished breakfast and were clearing the table. In her hands — a white veil.

“I wore this for my wedding — and my daughter did too. No moth holes — it’s in one piece. Use it carefully — and return it.”

Hearing that they had no veil — she’d flared up — how could a bride marry without a veil — and then willingly lent hers.

“And make a bouquet from whatever flowers you pick in the garden.”

Dumbfounded — they also received a spool of ribbon and some twine.

Arranging bouquets was a required skill for a lady. With fresh flowers — she was confident she could make a beautiful one. Humming to herself — Eve spent her last hours as Evelyn Sherwood making a bouquet from the colorful lilacs she’d cut in the garden.

The wedding took place in a small church on the mountainside. It was more than modest — no guests — not even a father to walk the bride to the groom.

The white dress Eve wore wasn’t new — the veil on her head was borrowed from someone they’d only met yesterday. At least the rings were new — but they too were “sponsored” by the Crown Prince of Rosenholm.

The priest gladly blessed the foreigners entering a “troubled” marriage.

“Do you swear before God to be together — until death parts you?”

“I do.”

“Now exchange rings as a sign of your vow.”

They slid gold rings — bought at a jewelry store in the big city on their second day of running — onto each other’s left ring fingers. The newlyweds — united by the pair of rings — holding hands tightly — left the church and stood before the world.

The landscape before their eyes hadn’t changed at all — but it felt like everything had. Ethan unfolded the marriage certificate — written in a foreign language — and gazed at it. He couldn’t suppress the smile that kept spreading across his face.