Haruka The Beloved of Marielle Clarac

1. Auflage 2020
ISBN: 978-1-7183-2228-8
Verlag: J-Novel Heart
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: Adobe DRM (»Systemvoraussetzungen)

E-Book, Englisch, 303 Seiten

Reihe: The Tales of Marielle Clarac

Plain, unassuming Marielle never expected to be engaged to someone like Simeon. After all, he's Vice Captain of the Royal Order of Knights, and the heir to a noble family far more esteemed than her own.
But who cares about petty things like differences of rank in high society? In her eyes, Simeon embodies everything her fangirl heart desires. He's exactly her type: the dashingly handsome, bespectacled man with a dark side.
Marielle would love nothing more than to spend all her time enjoying lovey-dovey bliss with her fiancé-when she's not pursuing her secret profession as a romance novelist. Instead she's been roped into helping the crown prince find a suitable bride. Soon there's engagement drama all over the place-and how can Marielle enjoy her own engagement when she's knee-deep in sorting out everybody else's!?
The second volume in the adventures of the devious fangirl who secretly obsesses over her fiancé and everyone around him!

Autoren/Hrsg.

Haruka, Momo

Weitere Mitwirkende

Maro

Reuben, Philip

Leseproben

Chapter One

Love is something that arrives unexpectedly.

Throughout history, in every love story ever written, the hero and heroine find each other by way of endless surprises and coincidences.

I’m a huge fan of such tales of tempestuous romance, full of twists and turns—I adore both reading them and writing them. Naturally, then, I’m also a huge fan of the real-life romances that occur all around me. Seeing the heady delights and heartaches of couples in love has always set my heart racing a mile a minute.

And that used to be enough to satisfy me. That was my life, and I didn’t need anything beyond that vicarious thrill.

Or so I thought.

The tall gentleman in front of me looked over his shoulder. “Marielle,” he called in a gentle voice. From where I sat on the bench, his graceful form stood out from the wintry landscape like an ice sculpture. His physique had been well-honed through years of training, and his posture was upright, his broad shoulders projecting a quiet intensity.

As he looked toward me, I noted—as always—that he was an exceptionally handsome man. His pale complexion and his features spoke of noble quality, like a storybook Prince Charming, while his glasses suited him well, suggesting both an intellectual side and a certain austere sternness. His pale blond hair and light blue eyes could sometimes be ice cold, like a frigid night under the midnight sun, while other times they burned so hot they looked like they could melt iron.

What set him apart from a storybook prince, and made it clear that he was a knight, was the shrewdness that often lay hidden behind his outwardly calm visage. A saber hung at his side, and his black boots trod heavily on the snow, with footsteps worthy of the Grim Reaper—beautiful, yet terrifying. Yes, I thought, he was an emissary of hell, bringing certain destruction to anyone foolish enough to stand in his way. Once drawn in by the captivating sight of his blazing blue flame, it was already too late to escape.

One could not help but be mesmerized by his beauty and then crushed by his unforgiving might.

“Marielle,” he repeated.

I had read every book I could get my hands on, and added plenty of my own to the canon besides. Out of every male character archetype featured in every story, the type of man I adored above all else was...

“Marielle!”

...the brutal, black-hearted scoundrel.

“A riding crop?” he responded, as if to my thoughts. Had I spoken aloud? “Where on earth has your mind carried you? Wake up, if you please. If you allow yourself to drift off into dreamland out here, you’re certain to catch a cold.”

He shook my shoulders, jolting me out of my dream. I had intended to sit and rest on the bench for a mere moment, but I had failed in this endeavor. Now, peering at me from very close range was the Grim Reaper himself...or rather, my fiancé.

“Oh, my apologies,” I replied after a pause. “I was having such a pleasant dream.”

“I have no desire to hear about it. My intuition is screaming that I would regret it.”

“There was nothing untoward about it, I assure you. I was merely thinking about what an unbearably wonderful and good-looking man you are, Lord Simeon.”

“And that is every detail I care to hear.” He handed me something wrapped in newspaper. “Here.” The warmth of the parcel radiated through my gloves, and I broke into a smile before I even knew it. The contrast to my own cool temperature was so delightful that I was almost glad I’d dozed off and grown so chilly. My cheeks began to flush as I took in the heat and the accompanying sweet scent.

“Thank you most kindly. And...”

I took one of the roasted chestnuts—a delicacy that the city of Sans-Terre is well-known for—and popped it into Lord Simeon’s mouth. His handsome face grew rather flustered.

I did my utmost to fight the urge to grin shamelessly, and to fangirl over him even more shamelessly—but Lord Simeon appeared to have noticed. As if in revenge, he took the hand I’d put up to his lips and gave it a light kiss through the gloves...and then, before I had time to enjoy the ecstasy of that moment, he turned his enchanting gaze on me, and I was lost in that instead.

As I writhed in agony on the inside, beset by adult thoughts of a variety best not described in detail, it was Lord Simeon who now pushed a roasted chestnut into my mouth. Smiling, now he offered me his hand, and I stood up from the bench to join him.

It tasted so sweet. Not the chestnut—although yes, that was delicious as well. But what truly left an impression was the atmosphere between us. I never thought the day would come that I might experience this in real life. This was how it felt to spend time together, two people in love, just like in a story.

Who could possibly have foreseen it? I was always the one who stood on the sidelines, gaining all my enjoyment from watching other people’s romances play out. I thought it would stay that way my whole life long, that a romance of my own would never enter the picture at all.

Holding the parcel of chestnuts in one hand, I nestled up close to Lord Simeon’s arm with the other. The appropriate thing to do would have been to gently lean against him, but I allowed myself the audacity of clinging tightly instead. After all, this was neither the royal palace nor a nobleman’s manor, but Brunet Park—a place for the citizenry to relax. Those around us were each enjoying themselves in their own way as well. Strait-laced manners could surely be set aside for now, and a festive mood brought to the forefront. What was winter if not the time of year for lovers to huddle together closely?

I thought to myself.

It didn’t seem possible, but Lord Simeon proved it with his response to my behavior. He was unperturbed by my clinging to him. There was no furrowing of his brow to suggest that I was being immodest or overfamiliar. Rather, he accepted it with a gentle smile. It was clear as day that he, too, was enjoying our time together. He slowed his pace to keep time with mine as we walked side by side.

Although we weren’t doing anything in particular, just walking together, somehow the world appeared to sparkle. I thought. I’d found myself able to write much sweeter stories than I ever could before. It turns out that seeing and hearing about romance was not sufficient on its own. Experiencing it for myself was important as well.

We wandered around the park together while snacking on the roasted chestnuts. Soon we came to the pond beside which Lord Simeon and I had, just two months earlier, declared our love to one another in a rather tumultuous scene. The banks were now buried in snow, the water birds had long since flown away, and children frolicked on the surface of the ice. The water, which was only knee-deep for an adult, became a skating rink when it froze over, bringing joy to young and old. I longed to join them, but I had to temper my enthusiasm, as I had not brought any skates with me. All I could do was watch the merriment from the sidelines.

“Ah, indeed,” Lord Simeon teased, noticing my expression. “Perhaps I should have had suitable footwear prepared.”

“Next time,” I replied. I pressed my cheek to his arm, as if to insist that the next time we visited the park, he would accompany me onto the ice. Still, although I couldn’t go skating that day, nestling close to him was enjoyable enough on its own. As to why that was the case, I could give no straightforward answer. It was the same winter as always, and I was in the same locale I had visited many times before...and yet, just being beside Lord Simeon made the world around me look so different.

I felt I could scream it at the top of my lungs.

Of course, I fought the urge back completely and merely smiled. I wondered how Lord Simeon was feeling. It was hard to imagine the Vice Captain being so giddy with emotion that he would scream out loud about anything.

Even so, those around us were not ignorant of our situation. We had drawn more than a few pairs of eyes. True, a pair of lovers huddled closely together was far from a rare sight—there were plenty of others nearby—but we were the only ones drawing such attention.

The reason was obvious. It was because Lord Simeon was such an attractive man.

Indeed, his...