Chapter 5
A tall silhouette cut through the light at the doorway.
The man from last night was leaning against the doorframe, having watched her for who knows how long.
He had changed into a black silk robe, the expensive fabric clinging smoothly to his body. The collar opened wide, boldly displaying his chiseled collarbone and a glimpse of his solid chest.
His hair was still wet, a few strands clinging to his forehead. Droplets of water had yet to fall from the dark tips, accentuating his cold, pale skin. He appeared to have just emerged from the bath.
With arms crossed over his chest and posture relaxed to the extreme, his gaze rested on her.
Those eyes, dark and deep they seemed bottomless, were filled with scrutiny and an amused interest in the unfolding drama. This was the absolute composure of someone in a position of power.
Diana sat on the cold carpet, looking up at him calmly. Her eyes betrayed no emotion—no fear, no curiosity—only an excessive, icy clarity.
The man was examining her from above, while Diana was returning his gaze from below.
Whoever spoke first would lose half the psychological battle.
Time ticked by, minute by minute, until Diana's knees began to feel numb. Finally, the man's tightly pressed thin lips showed movement, the corner of his mouth curving into a smile devoid of warmth.
"Sister-in-law, you've kept vigil all night? How devoted of you."
He lowered his arms and strode toward her with unhurried long steps. The silk robe swayed with his movement, brushing against his clearly defined thigh muscles. Each step was silent yet commanded an undeniable presence.
Diana didn't move or speak, just watched him.
Could he have seen everything last night? This realization made her heart clench sharply, only to be forcibly calmed in the next second. So what if he had seen? The fact that he was standing here, alive and well, indicated he had secrets of his own.
And he had called her "sister-in-law"—could he be Rupert's brother? Not someone her brothers had sent to violate her?
The man stopped in front of her, looking down. His gaze swept over her tired face, finally landing on her hand resting on her knee, where a faint needle mark was visible. His eyes darkened briefly before returning to that keen, interested scrutiny.
"Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Alaric Russell, Rupert's half-brother." The man gestured with his chin toward the empty bed, speaking slowly with precise enunciation.
Alaric Russell. The Russell family's illegitimate son?
Diana processed this name mentally, her face revealing nothing. Someone who could freely enter Rupert's room and act so boldly—the Russell family must know about him. His position was likely significant.
Using the cold bed rail to slowly pull herself up, Diana stood straight. Their eye levels were somewhat more equal now, though she still appeared much smaller before him despite not being short.
"So? What do you want to say?" Diana finally spoke, her voice steady.
The self-proclaimed Alaric suddenly stepped forward, instantly reducing the distance between them to arm's length. The post-bath moisture mixed with an intense masculine scent enveloped her.
"Why go to such lengths? Taking your adopted sister's place in marriage to the Russell family, devoting yourself to a vegetative patient—what's your angle? Hoping he'll die so you can claim a large inheritance and become a respectable young widow?"
His words were like a knife, stabbing at her most vulnerable point. Diana simply listened quietly, even blinking lightly as if seriously considering the feasibility of his suggestion.
After a few seconds, she looked up, meeting his deep eyes directly, the corner of her mouth curving into an emotionless smile. "You've guessed wrong."
She paused, then continued in a matter-of-fact tone, "A living husband, even a vegetative one, serves as a better shield than a dead one."
Hearing these words, Rupert's pupils contracted slightly. She had laid out her calculations so plainly before him, cold, rational, with a utilitarian approach that chilled to the bone.
He had assumed the identity of Alaric specifically to test if she was Malcolm's person. But now it was clear she definitely was not.
"The York family sold me here, and plenty in the Russell family are hoping Rupert and I will die soon," Diana shifted her gaze from his face.
"As long as my husband is breathing, I remain his wife. Even the York family, who want to see me humiliated, must think twice before acting against me. But if he dies, what do you think will happen to me?"
She finished speaking and returned her gaze to his face, those clear eyes finally showing a hint of mockery. "I keep him alive to protect myself. Is that reason enough?"
The air seemed to freeze. Rupert stared at her for a full thirty seconds. For the first time, he realized a woman's eyes could be so clear while her words were so pragmatic.
"Well said." Rupert's smile deepened. "Self-preservation—sounds like an impeccable reason."
Diana met his gaze. "And what about you? An illegitimate son who, instead of sleeping, sneaks into his 'brother's' bridal chamber in the middle of the night, so concerned about his life or death. What are you after?"
Shouldn't an illegitimate son hope for the legitimate heir's early demise? Even if he didn't wish for his death, shouldn't he be watching from the shadows? Why would he so boldly appear again and again?
Rupert's gaze darkened. This woman was sharper than he had anticipated. Looking at her impassive face, he suddenly found it somewhat amusing.
He had pretended to be in a vegetative state to set a trap. Yet instead of catching his prey, he had been bitten hard by what appeared to be harmless "bait."
"Since you're so clever, why don't you take a guess?" Rupert chuckled softly, tossing the question back to her.
Diana tugged at the corner of her mouth. Guess? Why should she guess? How much of a threat could an illegitimate son pose to her current situation?
"Not interested," Diana said flatly, her tone showing a hint of impatience. "So, Alaric, are you friend or foe?"
Rupert's tall shadow instantly enveloped Diana completely as his deep voice lowered, almost brushing against her ear. "Whether I'm friend or foe depends entirely on your choice."
The threatening atmosphere was overwhelming. "The York family sent an impostor. If this matter reaches Grandfather, what do you think will happen?"
Diana didn't even blink, her mind racing quickly. From the beginning, he had mentioned she was a substitute bride for her sister. Apart from the York family and herself, no one else could possibly know this.
Unless... he had connections with her brothers from the York family, or they were already working together.
Diana suddenly smiled too. Instead of retreating, she moved closer, challenging his imposing presence. They were close enough for her to feel the lingering warmth from his bath.
She raised her hand, her fingertip landing on his open robe collar, tracing his defined collarbone with deliberate pressure. "What's your relationship with those incompetent York brothers? What did they offer you? Exposing the substitution would bring them down too. Don't think I'll be the only one to suffer—before I die, I'll make sure they accompany me to the grave."
Rupert's body froze for a second. He looked down at her hand mischievously moving across his chest and grabbed her wrist firmly.
His voice turned cold. "Placing me in the same category as those York family specimens is an insult to me."
Though his grip on her wrist was painful, Diana didn't even furrow her brow. She simply raised her face, gazing at him quietly. "Is that so?" she countered. "Then what exactly do you want?"
"It's simple." Rupert released her and stepped back, reopening that dangerous distance between them. "Become my lover."