Cordelia’s mind went blank. She felt a warm chest press against her back. She could even hear strong, rhythmic heartbeats. The man above her kept her securely within his arms, and she tried taking a deep breath but still could not stretch out her frozen limbs.

The man stopped abruptly.

“Do you know who I am?”

Cordelia paused.

The man wanted to say that he was her husband and this was their wedding night. It was more than justified for them to do this as husband and wife.

In spite of this, Cordelia took his question literally and timidly answered, “I do… You’re Marcus Grist.”

The man squinted and gave her a light smirk. Marcus Grist… Hah, should he be glad that she knew the name? It was too bad that he was not Marcus Grist—and she was not Yelena Jenner.

From the moment she had stepped through the door, he had been able to tell that she was only a substitute. He did not know why, but the temper of the Jenner heiress would never allow her to marry a countryside villager.

marrying her by pretending to be another man. It

“Marcus…”

as he looked down, he met her shiny eyes. The girl’s soft, shy expression felt like a hand clutching something at the bottom

her lip and tried to hook

with you doing anything to

dotted the tip of her dainty nose. She inched closer to him clumsily but she was shaking like

jolted. Just when Cordelia was about to kiss his lips, despite was doing, he

evident on her cheeks as her eyes brimmed with

her. “You’re tired today as

“Marcus, I—”

think you need some time to adjust. Until you’re adjusted to having a husband, I won’t put you in a tough spot,”

watching his naked back. Then, when

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