Reborn: The Duke’s Obsession

Delia woke up from a deep and dreamless slumber, the first truly peaceful sleep she had experienced in a very long time. She murmured softly, her hand reaching out for the warmth that had been her anchor throughout the night, the arms that held her closer and protected her from the chills of the night. But the other side of the bed was empty. She touched the sheets. Their warmth was gone, leaving only a faint, lingering coolness. He had been gone for a while.

She opened her eyes slowly, the soft morning light of her room greeting her. She watched the empty space beside her with a sense of longing so profound it was a physical ache in her chest. For a moment, she allowed herself to just feel it, this new and unfamiliar feeling of missing someone.

As she shifted, her hand brushed against a piece of folded paper that had been tucked almost under the other pillow. She picked it up and sat up in the bed, pulling the soft, heavy covers up to her chest. She unfolded the note. The handwriting was undeniably Eric's, strong and bold.

My Dearest Duchess,

By the time you are reading this letter, I will have almost gotten to the eastern isles. I am sorry that I had to leave without saying a proper goodbye. Forgive me. I know it's not an excuse but you were sleeping peacefully. I did not have the heart to wake you.

I want to thank you for last night. For everything. I enjoyed it. I wished I could have told you physically but time was not on my side. It is the memory of it that will keep me going until I can return to you. And when I do come home, I promise, I will make it up to you.

Do take care of yourself.

I love you so much my Delia.

My Duchess,

Your Husband, Eric.

Delia read the short, simple letter three times. A slow, warm smile spread across her face. He was a man who kept his promises. She held the letter to her chest for a long moment like a treasured, precious little thing.

She finally came down from the bed, her bare feet touching the cool, marble ground. Still clutching the covers around her body like a shield, she walked to the small vanity mirror. She opened the top drawer and carefully placed the precious paper inside, tucking it safely away.

As she closed the drawer, she caught a glimpse of her own reflection in the vanity mirror. She leaned in closer. Her hair was a wild, tangled mess of dark curls, and her lips were still slightly swollen from his kisses. And there, on the pale, smooth skin of her neck and collarbone, were the dark, possessive marks he had left behind.

"Oh, Eric," she said, her voice a soft, fond whisper as she gently touched one of the love bites on her neck. It didn't feel like a mark of shame. Like he said before, it was simply a sign we cannot live without each other.

She let the covers drop to the floor and went to immerse herself in a warm, soothing bath. After she had washed and the water had cooled, she got out and wore a simple day dress, putting her still-damp hair up into a simple ponytail. She then went to stand on the small balcony of her room, a cold breeze sweeping through and making her shiver.

"Autumn is coming," she said to the grey, overcast sky. "And then Winter will come soon. And then, it will be spring." She looked down at her left wrist, at the faint tattoo that was her constant ticking watch m. "I died during the start of spring," she said, her voice low and full of a quiet, somber weight.

Then, she remembered Eric's voice from the night before, the way he had looked at her on the bathtub, the raw, honest emotion in his eyes as he had told her, "I love you." She smiled at the memory, a real, genuine smile.

But the smile quickly faded, replaced by a look of deep, troubled confusion. "I don't even know if I truly love him," she sighed, her words lost to the wind. "Or am I just lusting after him?

I'm not going to lie, I love how wild he makes me feel but I don't know if I genuinely have true feelings for him or if I just love the way he looks at me, the way he touches me, the way he ignites my body and makes me feel things that George never, ever made me feel, not once in all our years together."

She leaned her arms on the balcony rails, the cool concrete, a stark contrast to the heat and confusion she felt inside. "But I don't know if what I'm feeling is love. I want to love him. I want him to enjoy the love that I can give, just as I am enjoying the love he gives to me. Even if I don't know what my own fate will be, I want to feel the happiness that this second chance at life seems to have in store for me. I want to feel a genuine, real love. And I want to be able to give it back, too."

She sighed again, a long, weary sound, and put her head on her arm. "Why is life so hard?"

But then, the memory she had unlocked in the bathtub, the memory of a sunlit garden and a little boy with serious, dark eyes, tugged at her. "How could I forget that?" she wondered. "How could I have completely forgotten that I have met Eric before? We met as children." A new, even more confusing question followed. "And if I met Eric first, before I ever even knew George, then how did I end up falling in love with George in the first place?" The past, which she had thought she knew, was now a confusing, tangled mess, a puzzle with half the pieces missing.