Chapter 160

Chapter 47

That evening, just before dinner, Graham stood at the head of the grand foyer of Thornfield Manor, his presence commanding as he addressed the gathered household staff. His tone was firm, his words leaving no room for doubt.

“I have an announcement to make,” he declared, his deep voice carrying through the high-ceilinged space, silencing the murmurs of curiosity among the assembled maids, butlers, and footmen. “I’m getting married. To Isla.”

The words landed like a thunderclap.

For a moment, silence stretched thick and heavy, the only sound the crackling of the fireplace in the distance. Then, Maggie—bless her heart—clapped her hands together in delight, her face breaking into a broad smile. “Oh, that’s wonderful news, Master Graham!” she gushed, practically glowing with happiness.

But the rest of the staff?

Stunned.

Shocked.

Wide eyes darted between Graham and Isla, as if they’d misheard, as if the announcement itself defied logic. Some exchanged furtive glances, their expressions betraying a mix of disbelief and barely concealed confusion. A few risked flickering looks of concern, not daring to voice the questions undoubtedly burning on their tongues.

Isla felt the weight of every single gaze on her. Her skin prickled under the scrutiny, her stomach twisting in knots. The stares weren’t just at her; they were at him too. Some of them, she realized, weren’t just surprised—they were wary.

She swallowed hard, fingers twitching at her sides. Did they think she wasn’t good enough for him? Or worse… did they think this was some kind of twisted arrangement rather than a love match?

Graham, however, was utterly unfazed.

If he noticed the stunned silence, the hesitant reactions, or the lingering tension in the air, he didn’t show it. His confidence was unwavering, his arrogance absolute. He simply looked over the room as if daring anyone to challenge him. His expression was unreadable—cool, composed, as if he’d just announced something as simple as the weather.

Graham wasn’t finished. As if dropping the bombshell of their impending marriage wasn’t enough, he went on, his tone calm, authoritative, and utterly indifferent to the shock still settling over the room.

“The wedding will take place in three days,” he announced, his voice unwavering. “As soon as the marriage license is valid.”

Another ripple of surprise passed through the gathered staff, but no one dared to question him.

Three days?

The words echoed in Isla’s mind like a thunderclap. She turned sharply toward Graham, her eyes widening in disbelief. He hadn’t mentioned this to her before—not once.

Three days.

Her heart pounded as the realization sank in. That wasn’t just soon—it was impossibly soon. Three days meant there would be no time for the things she had always dreamed of. No grand preparations, no extravagant white wedding. No weeks spent shopping for the perfect dress, no walking down the aisle with hundreds of guests watching in awe.

There would be no flower arrangements carefully selected to match her vision, no cake tasting, no time to choose a band to perform during the reception. There would be no slow buildup of excitement, no whirlwind of planning with friends and family fussing over every little detail.

There would simply be no time for anything.

Just like that, every childhood fantasy she had once held about her perfect wedding—the kind all women dreamed of—was being stripped away without so much as a conversation.

And Graham?

He stood there, completely unbothered by it all. As if the idea that she might want a say in this had never even crossed his mind. As if it hadn’t even occurred to him that she might have wanted the kind of wedding little girls fantasized about—the big white dress, the elegant ceremony, the celebration that was hers to shape.

But of course, in typical Graham Lancaster fashion, he had decided everything on his own. Just as he always did.

This wasn’t a proposal. This wasn’t a carefully planned moment of romance where he asked for her hand, where they sat together and dreamed about their future. This was a command. A statement issued as if it were already set in stone.

His arrogance was infuriating. The way he simply expected her to fall in line, to accept this rushed marriage as if it were a business deal rather than her wedding, sent a sharp stab of resentment through her chest.

Her fingers curled into fists beneath the table, but she didn’t say anything

That was the first real speed bump in all of this.

For the first time since Graham had declared that she would be his wife, Isla felt something uneasy settle in the pit of her stomach. A quiet, nagging resistance. But she said nothing. She didn’t argue, didn’t protest, didn’t let the words clawing at her throat escape.

She had dreamed of a wedding her whole life. Not just a dress or a venue but the feeling of it—the joy, the anticipation, the once-in-a-lifetime moment when she would stand in front of the man she loved, surrounded by family and friends, and vow to spend forever with him.

But Graham had stolen that moment from her without hesitation, without consideration. Because he had decided three days was enough. He had decided there was no need for fanfare. He had decided this was how things would go.

And Graham Lancaster’s decisions were final.

He stood there, his expression cool and composed, as if the matter had already been settled and any objections would be pointless. There was no softness in his gaze, no hesitation in his voice. He didn’t ask her what she wanted. He didn’t even pretend to.

But at least Graham was excited.

And wasn’t that supposed to mean something?

He wanted to marry her. Quickly. That had to be a good thing, didn’t it? A sign that he couldn’t wait to have her, that he was eager to make her his. Surely, it meant that this marriage—though decided for her rather than with her—was going to work.

So what if there wouldn’t be a grand wedding? What did it matter if there was no celebration, no dreamy white dress, no extravagant details that other women spent months obsessing over?

Isla was half-asleep, drifting in and out of dreams, exhaustion from the day weighing heavily on her. The whirlwind of events—Graham’s announcement, the hushed reactions of the staff, and her own silent turmoil—had drained her completely. She had barely changed into her nightclothes before collapsing onto her small bed, seeking the comfort of sleep to quiet her restless mind.

But then—something shifted.

A presence. A weight pressing down beside her.

Before she could fully wake, a strong hand covered her mouth, muffling the startled gasp that threatened to escape. Her heart leapt into her throat, her body stiffening beneath the unexpected touch. But before fear could take hold, she felt the familiar warmth, the unmistakable scent of him—Graham.

His broad frame barely fit on the small mattress, his body enveloping hers as he leaned in closer, his voice a low whisper in the dim light.

“Shh…” He hushed her softly, his finger pressing lightly against her lips before he withdrew his hand.

Her breathing was uneven, her mind racing to catch up, but before she could say a word, he silenced her in a way that made the air between them crackle—his lips covering hers in a slow, deliberate kiss.

“Don’t scream the house down, darling,” he murmured against her lips, his voice thick with amusement. “I think some of the staff are still awake.”

Isla’s breath hitched as Graham’s lips crashed down on hers, his kiss fierce and demanding, leaving no room for hesitation. His tongue swept into her mouth, claiming her with a hunger that made her head spin. The sensation was electric, his tongue sliding against hers in a slow, deliberate rhythm that sent shivers of pleasure coursing through her. She moaned into his mouth, the sound muffled but filled with need, her hands gripping his shoulders as she tried to steady herself.

But Graham wasn’t content with just kissing her. His hands, bold and unyielding, moved with purpose, leaving no doubt about what he wanted. With no preamble, no gentle exploration, his fingers found her breasts, his touch firm and insistent. He teased her nipples through the fabric of her blouse, pinching and rolling them between his fingers until they hardened into tight, sensitive peaks. Isla gasped, her back arching as pleasure shot through her, her body responding instantly to his touch.

He wasn’t gentle like he had been last night. There was no hesitation, no tenderness—just raw, unrelenting desire. His fingers tugged at her nipples, sending sparks of pleasure radiating through her, and she cried out, the sound a mix of surprise and ecstasy. But Graham didn’t stop. He seemed driven by a need to see her unravel, to push her to the edge and beyond.

When he was satisfied with the results, he changed positions, his mouth replacing his hands on her breasts. He pulled her blouse aside, his lips finding her hardened nipples with unerring precision. His tongue flicked over one peak, teasing it before he took it into his mouth, sucking hard enough to make her cry out. The sensation was overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain that left her trembling. His teeth grazed her sensitive flesh, sending a jolt of electricity straight to her core, and she gasped, her fingers tangling in his hair as she held him to her.

“Graham…” she moaned, her voice trembling with need, but he shushed her, his lips moving to her other breast, giving it the same attention. His hands roamed her body, exploring every curve, every inch of her, as if he couldn’t get enough. She felt consumed by him, by his touch, his taste, his scent, and she never wanted it to end.

But Graham had other plans. He pulled back slightly, his eyes dark with desire as he looked down at her. “Spread your legs for me, honey,” he murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a shiver down her spine.

Isla’s breath caught in her throat, her heart pounding as she hesitated for just a moment. But the look in his eyes, the intensity of his desire, left no room for doubt. Slowly, she obeyed, her legs parting for him, her body trembling with anticipation.

Graham’s gaze burned into her, his hands moving to her thighs, his touch firm as he pushed them further apart. “That’s it,” he said, his voice a low growl that made her pulse race. “Let me see you.”

She felt exposed, vulnerable, but also incredibly aroused. The way he looked at her, the way his hands moved over her body, left no doubt about what he wanted, and she wanted it too. She wanted him to touch her, to claim her, to make her his in every way.

And as he leaned in, his lips brushing against her inner thigh, she knew that this was just the beginning. The heat between them was undeniable, the passion consuming, and she was ready to lose herself in it, in him.