147: Opened Hair

Opened Hair

Oriana woke up some time after midnight, feeling a bit too warm for comfort, and pushed the source away out of instinct thinking it was a thick, heavy blanket, only to find herself unable to raise her arms.  2

'Am I dreaming…?' she wondered, slowly blinking away the drowsiness from her blurry eyes. 

She was sleeping on her side with a pair of muscular arms wrapped around her, one acting as her pillow while the other was on her waist. Her head was nestled against a firm, warm chest moving up and down with rhythmic breathing, with her own arm surrounding the figure holding her. Her hand gently stroked that manly body.

Manly body…

A man…

'...I'm in a man's arms?!'

  Oriana almost jolted upright, frightened with the memories of last night rushing back to her mind. 

'Don't tell me—'

Her heart in her throat, she slightly tilted her head up to find the strong lines of a defined jawline, and further up a sharp, sculpted nose, before gazing at his closed eyes, to be more precise his long, dark lashes casting faint shadows under his eyes. His brows, typically furrowed, were calm and relaxed in his sleep, adding a touch of vulnerability to his arrogant character. 

This handsome face, it indeed belonged to no other than the perverted brat she serves, Arlan Cromwell!

'Damn it, I am dead. I am so dead!' she freaked out. 'I need to get away before this prince wakes up.' 

She slowly moved the hand holding her waist away, trying her best to keep her movement careful  to not wake him up. 

Just as she thought escape was but a second away—

"Ouch! My hair!" 

She could not sit up because she could not lift her head. Her hair was being pulled and it felt painful. 

'Wait, what? Where is my headwrap?' 

The brown fabric was not on her head, and her long luscious reddish blond locks were spread on the pillow like a waterfall. Part of her hair was stuck under the prince's arm, some held within his clutch.

To say Oriana was horrified was an understatement.

It appeared that some time in the middle of the night, the scarf loosened around her head, causing her long hair to spill out in abundance. Fortunately, the prince was sleeping. Though it was rather common for noblemen to wear their hair long, there was a stark difference between a lady's long hair and a man's long hair. Oriana's hair was a dead giveaway of her gender.

She worked to free the ends of her hair from his hold, slowly loosening up one finger at a time. 

'Please don't wake up, please don't wake up…' she continued to chant in her head.

Once she managed to free her hair, she slowly stood up from the bed and found the missing brown fabric lying on the floor. She picked it up and hurried towards the door. 

'I need to leave before he wakes up. I can't let him see me like this, or else…'

Out of caution, she peeked at the hallway and found no one outside yet as it was still early. Without making a single noise, she slowly closed the door behind her and ran towards her room at the end of the hallway. 

'Thank the spirits no one saw me! Ahh, my heart! That was dangerous! I should really cut my hair short!'

Only after she entered her assigned bedchamber, her back leaning against the door, did she allow herself to breathe in relief, silently berating herself for her foolishness.

A commoner servant like her dared to sleep on the same bed as a royal prince!

Not to mention, her identity as a woman almost got discovered!

Foolish Ori! Extremely foolish!

With a groan, she hurriedly locked the bolt of the door before throwing herself to bed.

The moment she closed her eyes, a few particular images from the previous night flashed in her mind, causing her to sit upright, almost pulling out her hair in frustration.

'Last night, dear spirits, what the hell did I eat wrong that I allowed…?'

The intoxicated Arlan pulled her close, and he leaned down—

Her fingers touched her lips. That memory of his lips brushing against hers made her cheeks grow hot. And when that wicked drunk spoke in a low,  seductive voice those words—

'I missed you.'

—the last vestiges of her rationality almost melted.

Another groan left her lips as she remembered everything clearly, with her hands on her wildly beating heart. 

'That brat, what spell did he cast on me? How dare he take advantage of me?!'

She lay back in the bed while crying inside and buried her face against the pillow, wishing she could hide herself for eternity. Was it a blessing in disguise that no other servant was present to witness last night's shame?

When she closed her eyes again, another memory flashed in her mind. 

Arlan, sitting in his armchair with a glass of wine in hand. Those pair of stormy blue eyes when he grabbed her and pulled her into his arms. The way her heart raced when  his hand caressed her cheek—

"Ahhhh! Stop, no, that didn't happen! My heart didn't—-I wasn't…aahhh!"

Oriana threw the pillow away, rolling back and forth on her bed with her palms  cupping her heated cheeks. Maybe it was her imagination, but it was as if the gentle warmth of his rough palm still lingered against the delicate skin of her cheek. 

'That brat! That pervert! Did he really seduce me because he thinks I'm a pretty boy? Did he let down all his inhibitions last night because of the alcohol? Mister Roman is right—the prince should stop drinking! From now on, I shall do my best so that the prince will never end up drunk again! Never again!'

There was still time before dawn, but Oriana was too agitated to fall back to sleep. 

'Every time I close my eyes, what happened last night haunts me. I don't want to remember them.'

In order to distract herself, no, to regain her composure, the young woman took a long, soothing bath in the attached washroom of her room.

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