The Archduke's Songbird

Lady Jessamyn brought home a ten-year-old orphan when she was eight. He was handsome ^_~. She provided him with a place to stay and warm meals. As they grew up, she desired to marry him, despite their differing statuses. As war raged, he signed up for the military, promising to ask for her hand when he was worthy. Two years later, he became more than what he promised he would be. He became the Archduke of Ayberia. But he broke her heart by marrying her friend. Years rolled away; life happened. She married a man who loved her and fell madly in love with him. She didn't think of him again. But fate was cruel; she was widowed at the age of twenty-one. She lost everything. Seven years later, she met a mysterious wolf while she was out at work in the Archduke's fief. She had a fall. The next morning, she found herself on the Archduke's bed. Did fate bring them together again? Or something nefarious is at play?  Is this a chance for a second love? Will she find out why he abandoned her in the past? Is it possible to rekindle their old love, or is it too late? ----- Join me in this journey. Your comments and votes are appreciated. Gift me to motivate me. Updates will be daily.

Golda · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
219 Chs

Painful Past

Isadora waited for Bernard to speak. But it looked like it was hard for him to speak. 

"You don't have to, Bernard," she hugged him and kissed his cheek. 

She patted his back as the majestic man shook in her tender embrace. 

"I will wait until you open up to me…" 

She had no idea who Bernard killed in the past which made him this stressed. But looking into his eyes, she knew one thing. 

She didn't care about his past. She didn't care what others thought about him. This man treated her the best. And that was enough for her. 

"I will never hurt you, Isadora," Bernard said, holding her shoulder, his voice trembling with emotion. 

His vulnerability struck her heart like a gentle wave, reminding her of the depth of their connection. She cupped his face in her hands, feeling the roughness of his stubble against her palms, a stark contrast to the softness of his gaze.