CHAPTER 113: CHAPTER HUNDRED AND THIRTEEN

The grand, black-lacquered carriage of the Duke of Elinburgh pulled smoothly into the courtyard of the family mansion. The moment it came to a stop, the large front doors of the estate opened, and a line of servants hurried out to greet them.

A footman pulled down the carriage step and opened the door. The servants at the Carson mansion, well-trained and efficient, took Eric’s coat and Delia’s hat the moment they stepped inside the cool, marble-floored entrance hall.

"Welcome home, Your Grace. Welcome, Your Grace, the Duchess," they said in a chorus of respectful, welcoming voices.

"Thank you," Eric and Delia replied, the newness of being addressed as a pair still a pleasant surprise. Delia put her hand on Eric’s arm, a familiar, comfortable gesture now, as he led them towards the main drawing room.

Immediately, Duchess Lyra, who has been waiting for the sound of their arrival, stood up from her seat by the window. Her face was alight with a pure, motherly joy. She opened her hands wide, a clear invitation for a hug, as she approached them.

Seeing his mother’s open arms, Eric naturally opened his own, a warm, happy smile on his face as he prepared to receive her embrace. "It is good to be home, Mother," he began.

But Lyra walked right past him.

She went straight to Delia and enveloped her in a tight, warm hug. Eric’s arms were left outstretched, holding nothing but empty air. He froze for a moment, a look of complete surprise on his face.

Lyra broke the hug and held Delia at arm’s length, her hands on Delia’s shoulders as she fussed over her, gently arranging a piece of her hair that had come loose.

"Come in, come in, my dear. You must be tired from your journey. Let’s eat," she said, touching Delia’s cheek and giving her a warm, loving smile.

She then looked over at Eric, who was still standing there, his arms outstretched in his rejected hug. "Oh," Lyra said, as if just noticing him. "Welcome home, son. Lunch is ready. Let’s all go and eat." She turned and walked towards the dining area.

Delia was still completely shocked by the warmth of the reception she had just received. She looked back at Eric, who was looking at her with the exact same surprised expression. They both looked down at his still-outstretched arms.

He moved towards Delia and, with a smooth, fluid motion, finally closed his arms around her, turning his rejected hug into a private, intimate embrace. He leaned in and whispered into her ear, his voice a low, teasing rumble. "It seems you have completely stolen my mother from me," he murmured. "But I don’t mind, as long as I still have you. And as long as I am the one who holds the biggest part of your heart."

He then gently bit her earlobe and sucked on it for a fraction of a second.

"Eric!" she whispered, a shocked, flustered sound. "We are at your family’s house! Have some sense of control."

He broke the hug, a wide, unrepentant grin on his face. "Well," he said, his voice low and seductive, "you don’t make it easy for me, though." His thumb brushed her lips as he gaze intensely at them.

"Your mother is waiting for us," she said, her own cheeks now a bright shade of red. She quickly left him and went to the dining area, and Eric, still smiling, followed behind her.

The maids had already started serving lunch. The table was laden with a magnificent feast, a spread worthy of a royal visit. There was a large, perfectly roasted chicken, a savory beef and kidney pie with a golden, flaky crust, bowls of roasted potatoes, glazed carrots, and fresh green peas.

Eric pulled out a chair for Delia. As she sat down, he pushed it in for her before taking his own seat beside her. Lyra took her seat at the head of the table.

Delia looked at the huge amount of food on the table, a look of alarm on her face. "Oh, no," she said, her voice a small, worried sound. "This is far too much. I can’t possibly eat this much."

"Nonsense, my dear," Lyra replied, waving her concerns away. "You need to eat well. You need to be strong so that you can have a healthy baby."

The word ’baby’ dropped onto the table with the force of a heavy object.

"What?" Eric and Delia shouted together, their own voices a chorus of pure, unadulterated shock.

Lyra continued, completely unfazed. "Why are you both so surprised? You two are married now." She then leaned forward, bringing her voice down to a low, conspiratorial whisper. "Or... have you two not... you know... consummated your marriage yet?"

Delia’s mind immediately flashed back to their night on the island, to the feel of his hands on her skin, the taste of his lips, the way he had completely and utterly devoured her. Her face turned a deep, burning crimson.

"Mother..." Eric began, his own face a little flushed.

Lyra was about to continue her good-natured teasing, with a story of her own passionate wedding night. " You know," she started, her voice low " Your father and I had the most..." but she was interrupted by the arrival of her daughter.

"Mama, why are you troubling the newlyweds so early in the day?" Amber said as she breezed into the room, a wide, cheerful smile on her face. She went straight to Delia and gave her a warm hug, pointedly ignoring her own brother. She then went to her seat, a look of pure mischief in her eyes.

"It looks as if the King himself is paying us a visit, Lyra," a new voice said from the doorway. It was the Dowager Duchess Elena, looking as regal and elegant as ever as she entered the dining room. "You didn’t tell me your brother was coming for lunch."

"The children are back from their honeymoon mother," Lyra replied with a happy smile. "So I told the kitchen to prepare a lot." She paused and looked at Eric and Delia, as if a new thought had just occurred to her. "Wait. That’s right. Why did you two come back so soon? I thought you would be gone for a while."