Eventually, Kennard turned slowly, and his eyes met Elena’s through the glass door. A profound connection formed as if he sensed her gaze, their eyes locking without a single gap, upright and unwavering. Elena, attempting to conceal herself behind the curtain, found the effort futile.
Immobile, Elena found herself ensnared by his penetrating gaze before she could take a step. Beneath the silver glow of the moon, their eyes intertwined in an unspoken connection that lingered in the night air.
Kennard, resembling a statue come to life, initiated a slow advance towards Elena, his deliberate steps under the moonlight mirroring the languid grace of a wild wolf navigating a moonlit field. His demeanor exuded an impervious strength, as though he could effortlessly endure any assault from a formidable adversary.
As Kennard approached, each unhurried step seemed to elongate time itself. With every passing moment, a shiver ran through Elena, every hair on her body standing on end, making the act of breathing a conscious effort.
Now standing mere inches away, Kennard continued to fixate on Elena through the transparent glass, his unwavering gaze piercing through her defenses. Despite the close proximity, she found herself incapable of averting her eyes or closing the curtain. The moonlight cast a dense shadow over Kennard’s features, leaving only his deep and intense pumpkin-colored eyes vividly illuminated in the darkness.
A soft tap echoed in the night.
Kennard, who had been silently observing Elena like a living canvas, lightly knocked on the glass door. Though the gesture was a gentle tap with his fingertips, the sound resonated as if it were vibrating in her heart.
Maintaining her stillness, Elena prompted Kennard to release a sigh, and his shoulders lightly drooped.
Elena hesitated at the door, not out of fear that Kennard might harm her, but rather from the uncertainty of confronting him for reasons unknown. The idea of the thin glass door offering minimal protection reassured her, yet the act of unlocking the latch brought a twinge of unease.
With a deliberative pause, Elena reluctantly unlocked the latch, and as the door emitted a creaking sound, Kennard promptly pulled it open. A rush of chilly night air swept into the room, causing Elena to shiver involuntarily. Despite wearing a robe over her chemise, the fabric proved insufficient against the cold. Hurriedly, she crossed her arms over her chest, interlocking them beneath her shoulders.
Observing her discomfort, Kennard swiftly removed his cloak and draped it over her shoulders. “It’s fine,” Elena insisted, attempting to resist his gesture.
“Just stay still.”
Despite Elena’s attempt to move backward, Kennard persistently wrapped the cloak around her. As he faced her, draping the cloak over her shoulders, there was an almost imperceptible proximity between Elena’s face and Kennard’s chest. Elena tensed, striving to avoid contact, as Kennard continued to envelop her in the warmth of the cloak.
Frozen in place, Elena felt a startle as Kennard’s hand approached. His gaze locked onto her face, skillfully tying the cloak’s strings. The lengthy cloak, reaching down to the floor, offered a thickness and weight that retained Kennard’s warmth, providing a comforting shield against the night’s chill.
In the dimness illuminated by the fireplace and moonlight, they stood facing each other, yet Elena couldn’t bring herself to meet Kennard’s eyes. Despite him taking a step back, the proximity still lingered uncomfortably close.
Looking up at Kennard, Elena felt as if she would need to lean back to the point of nearly breaking her neck. Fidgeting with the edge of her cloak, she lowered her gaze, observing the golden buttons adorned with a wolf pattern fastened to the gilet and frock. Uncertain of where Kennard’s attention was directed, the tension added an awkward constriction to her body.
In an attempt to break the suffocating silence, Elena forced herself to speak, her voice emerging strained and unfamiliar, “My lord, what brings you here at this late hour?” The words seemed to belong to someone else, and she struggled to maintain composure.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I went for a walk,” Kennard replied.
Wondering why he chose her terrace for a stroll, Elena refrained from voicing the question, fearing that uttering words might lead to revelations she shouldn’t hear. Kennard’s breath lingered just above her head, and though the chill had dissipated, Elena clutched the cloak even tighter.
“You weren’t planning to go anywhere at this hour, were you?” asked Kennard.
“No, my lord. You know I can’t go outside through the terrace,” she replied.
“Then why are you still awake?”
Elena briefly looked up at Kennard before lowering her gaze to his cloak’s buttons again. She could feel his intense gaze on her.
“I couldn’t sleep either, and then I sensed your presence, my lord…” Elena admitted.
“My presence?” Kennard echoed.
“Yes,” she nodded slightly. “Your lordship has a distinctive pheromone.”
“What about others’ pheromones?” he inquired further.
“I can distinguish some of them,” she responded.
“Besides me?”
“…Yes.”
A prolonged silence enveloped them, and Elena wondered if she had made a mistake. Unsure if she had rambled unnecessarily, she inwardly blamed herself. Why did I mention sensing the Duke’s pheromones? I could have just said I coincidentally saw him. Closing her eyes tightly, she pondered her impulsive revelation.
