392 Oriana's Decision

Arlan glanced back at her veiled face, noting the anxiety in her eyes, but it only seemed to fuel his arrogance.

"Already frightened?" His smirk grew wider as his hand ventured towards her exposed neck, fingertips gliding along her skin. "And here you had hopes of marrying me. Mark my words, if this marriage goes through, every night we will spend in this chamber. Every night, I will make sure your grandfather knows how I'm tormenting you."

Her lips quivered, and her eyes glistened with unshed tears, yet she fought to prevent them from falling. Arlan's fingers continued their descent, heading towards the neckline of her nightdress, poised to pull it down.

"Don't," her trembling voice reached his ears, but he dismissed her protest with a scoff. "The more you resist, the more I'm inclined to do it. Let's rid ourselves of these bothersome clothes."

His fingers were on the brink of grasping her neckline to expose more when...