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Lord Theodore's Favorite Ritual

"I have waited for you in all of my lives, Gooseberry, and in all of them you had left. Please stay in this one," he pleaded, his eyes locked with hers. "I wish to stay too, My Lord Husband, because you are forever, Theodore," she whispered, tears glistening in her eyes. In a world where Lydia Statham, an illegitimate girl shunned as an abomination, is confined to her noble-born family’s estate, her only escape comes through books and stories of the outside world. But destiny intervenes when she receives an invitation to a bridal pick banquet at one of Critic Arley’s grandest mansions. What was supposed to be a chance for a new beginning soon becomes a solitary encounter with Lord Theodore, a feared outcast and enemy of the Empire. Lord Theodore, of royal blood but without a surname, has never desired a wife, and the idea of cohabiting with a woman seems unfathomable. Yet, at the banquet thrown by Conan, where every young lady was invited, only Lydia appears. Now, Theodore must confront his deepest reservations as he navigates the ritualistic demands and unearths feelings he never anticipated. In a tale of forbidden desires and unspoken promises, every season, every day, and forever, Theodore's life will revolve around the ritual that is Lydia—his chosen, his fate. No one came but her. His Gooseberry. ************** "Call me Lordess Theodore" "I am Lordess Theodore and I am his favourite ritual" Dear Critic. Do you wish to https://buymeacoffee.com/nanafirdausi Discourse with me on discord @i_nanafirdausi Cover photo is mine.

I_Nana_Firdausi · Fantaisie
Pas assez d’évaluations
294 Chs

Red And Ebony.

Conan's Bungalow

Critic Arley, Critic-Ishire.

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Long shadows were cast across the opulent foyer of the Knights cosy bungalow as the evening sun dipped below the horizon.

Helena stood poised at the threshold, her hand resting lightly on the ornate doorknob.

She is wearing a dark cloak and, she exuded an air of quiet sophistication and mysterious danger, her features softened by the warm glow of the flickering lamps that lined the walls.

She had heard a small meow that made her pause and at her feet was her sleek black cat.

Ebony sat watching her with its keen amber eyes, its tail twitching restlessly against the polished marble floor.

There was an unmistakable air of longing in its gaze as it regarded Helena, a silent plea to take him in the twilight hours.

Sensing the unspoken request, the lady crouched down beside the cat, her fingers reaching out to stroke its glossy fur with gentle affection.