The Heir's Secret Bride

Of course, she had no way of knowing that this man had already placed her above his own life, long before he ever fell in love with her.

"Byron" Marve turned and buried her face into his warm neck, her voice low and uncertain. "Let's call a truce, okay?"

Then, as if afraid he might misinterpret, she added quickly, "And no, I'm not saying this out of guilt."

Byron thought, "I would have to be a fool to believe her.

This woman clearly made up her mind to cut ties with me entirely. If it wasn't for guilt gnawing at her, there is no way her resolve would crumble so fast.

When he didn't respond, Marve glanced up at him, testing his rection. "I mean it. Don't you believe me?"

"I believe you." Byron replied without much conviction, his tones flat as his expression. "Now, can you get some sleep?"

Maeve stared at him, fuming. Of course, he doesn't believe me, he thought.

Annoyed, she pulled away, the frustration etched on her face. She had summoned every ounce of courage to reach out and reconcile, and yet he still thought she was pitying him. She thought. Seriously, just look at him. Even lying there, tall and imposing as ever, he doesn't have a shred of pitiful in

hum.

The investigation report on the fire soon landed in Byron's hands.

The fire had been caused by a cigarette butt dropped onto a blanket, now charred beyond recognition, leaving no DNA evidence behind.

The street, slated for demolition, had no surveillance cameras. I was practically deserted, meaning there were no witnesses.

It all seemed like an accident.

If Maeve had perished in the fire, no one would have known she'd been drugged and abandoned in that crumbling building. The case might have been written off as an unfortunate mishap. Another message came through from Byron's investigators. After reading it, he waited for Maeve to finish her medicine before speaking. "The arsonist committed suicide at home" "What?" Maeve almost choked on her water. "Are you sure it was him?"

"There was no evidence of anyone else at the scene. Byron said, his tone dark and contemplative. "But it's possible someone forced his hand."

He shifted gears abruptly. "Either way, it's not safe to stay here. Tomorrow, we'll head back to Kleymond."

Maeve nodded hurriedly. She had no arguments there.

With someone lurking in the shadows, she was as good as a sitting duck if she stayed.

At least Kleymond offered some semblance of safety.

She gulped down water to wash away the bitterness of the pill, a fleeting thought of Theo's concoctions crossing her mind,

781

the ones that didn't taste like poison.

She thought, "Theo's brews tasted like a warm lug compared to his bitter hospital medicine

Sighing, Maeve grabbed the burn ointment and headed to the bathroom.

After wrestling with it in front of the mirror for a while, she paused, frustration mounting. "Why am I making this so hard. for myself?novelbin

"I can just ask Byron to apply the medicine for me, might as well lake advantage of him while Fear, she thought.

She stepped out of the bathroom, walking straight to Byron. Turping her back to him, she lifted her shirt without hesitation.

"What are you doing?" Byron's voice tightened, his eyes caught guard by the sight in front of him.

"I can't reach the burn on my back. Help me put this on," Maeveld matter-of-factly. "And be gentle. It hurts."

Byron pressed his lips into a thin line, taking the ointment from her hand. "You're awfully bold, aren't you?"

In the past, she'd have blushed and fumbled for ages, too embarrassed to let him see anything.

Now, just because he was incapacitated, she acted like he was no threat at all.

Maeve thought, An injured lion is still a lion, but one that can't pounce.

have nothing to fear.

So why hold back?"

As Byron unscrewed the ointment cap, she reached back and unned the strap holding her top in place.

The loosened fabric gave a slight bourice before her arms crossed in front to shield herself, unwittingly amplifying the allure of the moment.

She thought she'd covered herself well, unaware that her half-concealed state was infinitely more enticing.

I can't help but think, I need to leave my mark on Maeve's skin, be thought.

Byron's throat went dry. His sharp, narrow eyes darkened, a storm of desire threatening to break through.

Suppressing the tumult in his chest, he lowered his gaze and began applying the ointment, his movements deliberate and steady.

Maeve's burns weren't too severe, but her back still flared red, the angry hue a sharp contrast against her untouched, porcelain skin.

Her burns stood out against her pale skin like a single ember glowing in a field of untouched snow.

As Byron applied the ointment, Maeve couldn't shake a strange, restless discomfort creeping through her.

It wasn't exactly pain, but she couldn't pinpoint what it was

The heat seemed to build within her, unpredictable and unrelenting, stirring a chain reaction that left her squirming-

She opened her mouth to tell him to be more careful but hesitated, wondering if she was just overreacting

But Maeve had forgotten. Byron knew her body better than she did. He didn't need her words to notice the subtle shifts, the tells she couldn't hide.

The torturous treatmem toally ended, and Maeve tried to pull herself together, eager to cover up and move on. Before she could. Byron's arm slipped around her waist, dragging her back against him.

"Ahr

She cried out in surprise. Her clothes were still in a mess in Byron Medaniel's arms, and her upper body was firmly in his hands.

She gasped, her clothes disheveled as she landed in his firm grip her upper body securely trapped. Flustered, Marve grabbed at his shirt for balance, her breath shaky as she whispered, "Byron... let go. The doctor said... "To hell with the doctor. Byron muttered.

Byron parted his thin lips and, for once, let a curse slip from his mouth. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her tightly into his chest, so firmly that even if his lower body couldn't move, she instantly lost the strength to struggle. Maeve slumped against him, wary of his injured legs and 100 cautious to struggle. Her cheeks burned as she tried to endure his teasing.

That was until he pushed her to the point of tears. She whimpered, her voice breaking as she snapped, "You're impossible! Even now, while applying medicine, you can't control yourself. Aren't you worried about tearing your stitches?" "Applying medicine?" He leaned in, brushing his mouth against the shell of her ear, his words deliberate. "What I want right

now is you."

His restraint had been hanging by a thread since the moment she'd pulled up her shirt to reveal her bare back.

Her soft, barely audible whimpers had only made it worse, awakening something primal in him.

He thought, 'Does she have any idea how much harder I want to make her cry the more pitiful she looks?"

Maeve's mind went blank, her body stiffening. She wanted to shut her eyes and pretend this wasn't happening, but the way his hands and lips moved left no room for denial.

"If you rip your stitches, you're going back to Kleymond by yourself?" she blurted out, trying to regain control.

Byron paused for a moment, a brief flicker of something crossing his expression. Then, with a predatory calmness, he leaned down, his teeth grazing her unguarded skin from behind.

Maeve's breath hitched, and tears pricked the corners of her eyes

She thought, I made a mistake.

I shouldn't have underestimated his patience, thinking I could take advantage of his situation and turn things around.

"I should've known better than to tease Byron, but now it's too late.

In the quiet of the hospital room. Maeve's soft, breathless cries filled the air. Byron remained fully dressed, holding her tightly as if all he wanted was the warmth of her body. But there was no mistaking the raw hunger in his every movement.