"What, my lady?" the maid asked, trying to suppress a laugh. Celine's sense of humor had not deserted her, it seemed, even if her temper was frayed. "Hear what?"
Celine put on an outer robe over her nightgown, walking towards the balcony doors, and opened them wider. She looked around, but couldn't see anything out of the ordinary.
"Leave," Celine ordered, her back still turned to the maid.
The maid curtsied again, and left the room. The door closed behind her with a soft click.
Celine stayed on the balcony for a while, looking down at the garden. The young gardeners were all hard at work, their backs bent, their hats shading their faces.
Her intense gaze swept over them, making them look up, feeling her scrutiny. They bowed slightly and went back to their work, not daring to hold eye contact with the Duke's daughter.
"..." Lucian even noticed their cheeks flush, they were clearly flustered by her presence.
She certainly looked softer without make-up and a fancy gown. The way the morning light caught her hair made it look like liquid sapphire, a luxurious color that no painter could replicate.
Her eyes, even from this distance, were sharp, searching. They landed on the dropped scissors on the ground, the one Lucian had dropped.
He cursed silently in his head, a bead of sweat rolling down his neck.
She then counted the gardeners, her brows furrowing before letting out a soft chuckle. It sounded like wind chimes, a sound he missed dearly.
Lucian punched himself internally, 'I can't believe I am still thinking like this.'
Celine stayed there for a few more moments, noticing the gardeners looking Lucian's way as if wondering what he was doing behind a tree.
Lucian couldn't hide forever, so he had no choice but to re-emerge and pick up the scissors. He could see her smirk from above as he bent down to retrieve it. It was a knowing smirk, one that said, 'Got you.'
Lucian forced a smile, tipping his straw hat at her. He then went back to trimming the rose bush, acting as if everything was part of his plan. That he was the one who wanted her to find him.
Celine even brought her tray of breakfast and sat on a small chair at her balcony, enjoying the food from above. She ate her food as if she was watching a very entertaining show. He was the entertainment, of course.
'Trapping me with a child, a child she knows I care about, so I'd come running back to her no matter how she treated me,' Lucian thought, 'And look at me. I did.'
Celine finished her breakfast and left the balcony, but she left the door open. A clear invitation.
"..." He wanted to go up there, he really did. But he also wanted to strangle her. She was unapologetic, unremorseful, and worst of all, she was enjoying this.
'I would understand if she thought I was shackled and beat me up…'
How little did Lucian need to warp everything to make her actions forgivable in his own mind. He was making excuses for her, because he still had feelings for her. He was a fool.
'...but you don't kiss shackled, or flirt with them, or... or do anything else she is doing with me.'
She must have deducted that he was still her Lucian, and not a copy, after she had failed to provoke him into acting like a shackled.
She just no longer cared about his feelings toward her, and was using other means to get what she wanted from him.
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Later that night, Lucian slipped into her room through the balcony, like a thief in the night.
The security was tight, and if Celine didn't assist him, he would have been caught. What a scandal that would be, a gardener sneaking into the Duke's daughter's room.
Celine was already in her bed, wide awake, waiting for him. He could see her silhouette in the moonlight.
She didn't say anything as he walked towards her, his footsteps silent on the carpet. He sat on the edge of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight.
Silence hung in the air between them. Lucian didn't acknowledge her, and went straight for her stomach. He placed his palm over the small curve of it.
He then placed his ear against it, listening for any sounds of life, whispering sweet nothings.
Celine's hand paused, her fingers hovering in the air before she decided to rest them on top of Lucian's head. It wasn't a gentle lullaby kind of touch, but more of a 'how dare you greet your child before your child's mother' kind of grip.
"Are you eating properly?" Lucian asked, still not looking at her. "Are you taking the necessary medicine? The one for the child's health."
His question was not about her well-being, but about their child's. He was being petty, but he couldn't help it.
Celine didn't answer him. Instead, she pulled on his hair, forcing his face against hers, pressing his lips against hers.
Lucian didn't respond to her kiss, he just stayed still, like a statue. Her free hand gripped his chest, his heart pounding under her touch, selling him out.
Her tongue traced his lips, sucking on them. When he didn't reciprocate, she scoffed against his lips, and let go of him.
Lucian pulled away, and wiped his lips with the back of his hand, as if to get rid of the taste of her.
But then he remembered the physician's advice and leaned in, kissing her forehead, a gentle touch that conveyed a different message, "Don't stress yourself. It's not good for the baby."
He then grabbed his shoulder bag, not looking at her, and rummaged through it.
"Here," he said, placing a box on the bedside table, "A gift for the child."
Various snacks were also taken out, a mix of sweet and savory. He had heard that pregnant women had cravings for certain foods. He prepared for that.
Celine grabbed him by the collar, and got herself another kiss, breaking his little heart and mending it at the same time. He hated this feeling.
When she let go, she was smiling. She went through the snacks, a sweet pastry shaped like a fish was the one she chose. She took a bite, and then held it to Lucian's lips.
Lucian turned his attention back to her stomach, "Does your mother always watch the garden from her balcony? To make sure the workers are doing their job, or...? "
Celine did not allow him to ruin her mood with words, and offered him another bite of the fish pastry.
She made it feel like he was the only suffering party.
Lucian took a bite. The pastry tasted like defeat. A sweet defeat.
When she went for another kiss, Lucian pushed her back down into the bed, his hands on her shoulders.
"You're the worst," he said, and he meant it, "The absolute worst."
"Are you going to kiss me properly or do I have to kick you around a little bit? Maybe you will be more willing then?"
The cruel, sweet smile on her face made Lucian's blood boil. But he did as she wanted, and kissed her, so properly that she would either have to push him away or choke on his tongue.
"Mmpf!" she pushed his face away from hers. His tongue had gone further down her throat, making her cough, "Hah...you...insane…mpf!"
They were so close to each other, yet separated by a pit so deep, it was swallowing all their chances of reconciliation.