The Extra's Rise-Chapter 565: A Blue Rose Blooms (7)

Consciousness returned to me slowly, like surfacing from the depths of the most peaceful dream I’d ever experienced. The first thing I became aware of was warmth—not just the comfortable temperature of Rose’s room, but the specific, intimate warmth of another person pressed against my side.

Rose.

The memories of the previous night flooded back in a rush of emotion and sensation that made my heart race all over again. Her eighteenth birthday, the celebration, the moment we had finally been alone together, and everything that had followed. The way she had looked at me with such trust and love, the softness of her skin, the whispered words of devotion that had made the entire world fade away until there was nothing but us.

I opened my eyes slowly, blinking against the afternoon sunlight that streamed through the tall windows of her bedroom. Afternoon sunlight. A glance at the digital clock on her nightstand confirmed what I suspected—it was past one in the afternoon. We had slept far later than either of us typically would, but given the circumstances, it was hardly surprising.

Rose was curled against my side, her auburn hair spread across my chest like silk, her face peaceful in sleep. She looked younger somehow in the gentle light, more vulnerable, and I felt a surge of protective tenderness that was even stronger than what I’d felt before last night.

Everything had changed between us. Not just physically, though that transformation was significant enough, but emotionally as well. The careful boundaries we’d maintained, the patient restraint that had characterized our relationship for months—all of it had been swept away in favor of something deeper, more complete.

As if sensing my gaze, Rose’s brown eyes fluttered open, immediately finding mine with the kind of automatic focus that spoke of deep connection. A slow, content smile spread across her face.

"Good morning," she murmured, her voice husky with sleep and carrying undertones that sent pleasant shivers down my spine.

"Good afternoon, more like," I replied, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of her head. "We’ve slept away half the day."

"Mmm," she hummed contentedly, stretching against me in a way that was entirely too distracting. "I wonder why that might be."

Her tone was innocent enough, but the mischievous glint in her brown eyes suggested she was perfectly aware of the effect she was having on me.

"Rose," I warned, though my voice lacked any real authority.

"What?" she asked with mock innocence, propping herself up on one elbow to look at me properly. "I’m simply observing that someone seemed particularly... energetic last night."

Heat rose to my cheeks as I recalled just how enthusiastic I had been. "You weren’t exactly passive yourself," I pointed out in my defense.

Her laugh was like music, bright and joyful in a way that made my chest tight with affection. "No, I suppose I wasn’t." She traced patterns on my chest with one finger, her touch light but possessive. "Though I have to say, your stamina is quite impressive. I wasn’t expecting..."

"Rose," I interrupted, my voice strangled as her implications became clear.

"What? I’m giving you a compliment." Her grin was absolutely wicked. "Multiple compliments, actually. You’re very... thorough."

I covered my face with my hands, torn between embarrassment and the urge to pull her closer and show her exactly how thorough I could be all over again. "You’re going to be the death of me."

"What a way to go though," she said cheerfully, pressing a kiss to my jaw before sitting up properly. "But as much as I’d like to stay in bed all day, I suspect my father will want to see us eventually. And we should probably eat something substantial."

The mention of the Marquis made me suddenly very aware of our current situation. I was in his daughter’s bed, in his house, after spending the night doing things that would probably make him reach for his sword if he thought about them too closely.

"Do you think he knows?" I asked, suddenly concerned about the potential political ramifications of our night together.

Rose gave me a look that suggested I might be slightly dim. "Arthur, you’re a very intelligent man, but sometimes you’re remarkably naive about certain things. Of course he knows. The entire point of last night was that I’m eighteen now. What exactly did you think was going to happen?"

She had a point, of course. The celebration, the significance of her birthday, the way her father had spoken to me—it had all been building toward this moment. I had been so focused on Rose, so caught up in my own emotions and the importance of the milestone for our relationship, that I hadn’t fully processed the broader implications.

"He’s not going to challenge me to a duel, is he?" I asked, only half-joking.

"Only if you hurt me," Rose replied seriously. "But since I’m currently very, very satisfied with how things went, I think you’re safe."

The way she said ’satisfied’ made me want to pull her back down into my arms, but she was already moving toward her wardrobe, apparently deciding that our lazy morning was officially over.

"We should get dressed," she said, pulling out clothes with the kind of casual comfort that suggested she wasn’t at all bothered by our current state of undress. "Father will want to have lunch with us, and it would be rude to keep him waiting much longer."

I watched her move around the room, marveling at the easy confidence she displayed. This was a side of Rose I’d never seen before—comfortable in her own skin, secure in her choices, radiating a kind of satisfied contentment that transformed her entire bearing.

"You’re different," I observed as I reluctantly left the warmth of her bed to retrieve my own scattered clothes.

"Different how?" she asked, pulling on a casual blouse that complemented her coloring perfectly.

"More confident. More... settled, I suppose." I struggled to find the right words. "Like you’ve finally become completely yourself."

Her smile was radiant. "That’s exactly how I feel. Like I’ve been waiting my entire life to become this person, and now I finally have."

As we finished getting dressed—a process that took longer than it should have due to frequent interruptions for kisses and whispered endearments—I found myself thinking about the transformation in our relationship. Not just the physical intimacy, though that had been extraordinary, but the emotional shift that had accompanied it.

There was a new ease between us, a comfortable intimacy that went beyond anything we’d shared before. The careful politeness that had marked even our most private moments was gone, replaced by something more natural, more genuine.

"Ready?" Rose asked, checking her appearance in the mirror one final time.

"As ready as I’ll ever be for lunch with your father after..." I gestured vaguely between us.

"After making his daughter very happy?" she supplied helpfully. "I think he’ll be pleased, actually. He’s been worried about my happiness for years."

We made our way through the estate’s corridors, our hands naturally finding each other as we walked. I was struck by how normal it felt, how right. The nervous anticipation I’d expected to feel was nowhere to be found, replaced instead by a deep sense of contentment and belonging.

The Marquis was waiting for us in the estate’s informal dining room, a comfortable space that overlooked the gardens where the afternoon sun painted everything in shades of gold and green. He looked up as we entered, and I was relieved to see warmth rather than hostility in his brown eyes.

"Good afternoon," he said with mild amusement. "I was beginning to wonder if you’d sleep the entire day away."

"Sorry, Father," Rose said, moving to kiss his cheek with the kind of easy affection that spoke of a strong relationship. "We were... tired." freewёbnoνel.com

The slight emphasis she placed on the word made me flush again, and I caught the Marquis’s knowing look. But rather than the anger or disapproval I’d feared, his expression held something that looked remarkably like satisfaction.

"I’m sure you were," he replied dryly. "Well, you’re here now. Lunch is ready whenever you are."

As we settled around the table and began what turned out to be one of the most comfortable meals I’d ever shared, I found myself thinking about how dramatically my life had changed in the span of a single night. Not just my relationship with Rose, though that transformation was profound, but my entire understanding of what happiness could look like.

The careful patience that had defined our courtship had given way to something more immediate, more real. And as I watched Rose laugh at something her father said, her face bright with joy and contentment, I knew that whatever challenges lay ahead, we would face them together.

Last night had been perfect. But this—this easy intimacy, this comfortable belonging—this was what I’d been waiting for without even knowing it.