Chapter 78: Failing Restraint

Catherine felt the change between them almost instantly. The air had grown heavier, charged with something she could neither ignore nor fully name and even breathing felt deliberate.

He was right there in front of her: bare, unguarded, completely open to her gaze. And her body… betrayed her.

Why couldn’t she touch him?

Her hand would lift, hesitate, and fall again, as though her mind and her instincts were fighting two different battles.

Across from her, Maximilian was struggling just as much. When he had begun to wake, there had been a softness against him… warmth… and her scent wrapped around him like something dangerously addictive.

For one terrifying second, he thought he had crossed a line in his sleep, that she would retreat again, build those cold, careful walls, and shut him out completely.

But then he understood.

It wasn’t him who had moved closer.

It was her.

She had come to him.

That realization alone nearly shattered his control.

And then she had shifted again—her thigh sliding between his, brushing dangerously close, her knee drifting higher to his… manhood, and he had stopped her. He had to. Because he was still a man, and the only thing anchoring him now was the memory of the life they had already lost once. If he wanted her heart again, he needed patience. Restraint. Time.

But now she was awake.

And the way she was looking at him…

It wasn’t uncertainty holding her back.

It was pride.

That quiet, unyielding pride of a woman that refused to be the first to reach.

Maximilian exhaled slowly, making a decision.

He lifted his hand toward her, a small, deliberate invitation—something gentle enough that she could take it without feeling like she had surrendered anything of herself.

“We need to kiss,” he said softly, his voice low, still rough with sleep and restrained desire.

His fingers caught lightly at the edge of her slip and drew her closer. Not forceful. Not demanding. Just enough to give her a reason, to give her permission to step forward without losing her pride.

The bracelet did not burn her.

His heart felt no pain of the curse and that meant that no memory was dragging her back.

This moment—this quiet, golden morning—was theirs.

Catherine’s breath hitched as he pulled her closer. The neckline of her slip shifted with the motion, slipping lower against her skin. Dangerously low. She didn’t find the need to clutch her slip.

Sunlight filtered through the curtains, catching in his tousled hair and threading soft gold through the dark strands. His eyes were on her… steady and intent, as though she was the only thing left in the world worth seeing.

That look…

It undid her.

Her fingers curled into the edge of his robe before she even realized she had made a choice. She pulled him toward her in one sharp, decisive motion.

And then…

Her lips met his.

Not hesitant.

Not careful.

But a collision of memory, longing, and everything she had tried so desperately to bury.

The moment her lips met his, the world seemed to fall away.

Maximilian stilled for the briefest fraction of a second, just enough to realize this was not a dream, not a memory, not something stolen from another life.

This was her.

Here.

Choosing him.

Then his restraint snapped.

His hand rose to her cheek, fingers sliding into her hair, deepening the kiss with a hunger he had buried for far too long. Catherine gasped softly against his mouth, her grip tightening on his robe as she pulled him closer, as though the distance between them, however small, was already unbearable.

It wasn’t gentle.

It wasn’t careful.

It was years of longing and questions and unfinished promises, finally finding a voice.

He shifted, pressing her back into the mattress, his body braced above hers, careful not to crush her weight, yet close enough that she could feel the heat of him, the solid line of his frame, the way his breath had grown uneven.

Her hands moved without instruction, instinct guiding her as she clutched at his shoulders, then his back, fingertips tracing the warmth of his skin as though confirming he was real.

He broke the kiss for a breath… only one.

Their foreheads nearly touched, breaths mingling, her lashes trembling as she looked at him.

“Catherine…” he murmured, her name softer than she had ever heard it.

It sent a shiver through her.

But she didn’t answer.

Instead, she pulled him down again.

This time, the kiss slowed—not weaker, but deeper, more deliberate. A quiet exploration rather than a collision. The kind that lingered… that learned.

His hand slid from her cheek to her waist, steadying her as she shifted beneath him, as though her body instinctively sought closer warmth. The thin silk of her slip had twisted, and his robe had loosened further, but neither of them seemed to notice.. too lost in the simple, overwhelming fact of each other.

The morning light grew warmer around them.

Time stretched.

And for once… neither of them was thinking about the past.

Catherine’s heart pounded.

Her slip had fallen low, not covering her chest. His hand rested at her waist. His forehead touched hers. His breath brushed her skin.

And his body… so close… yet not touching her where it mattered most.

She knew what that meant. She knew what he was holding back.

But a reckless, aching part of her wanted this to go further.

“I think we should stop,” she whispered.

Because this was already too much.

Using the bracelet as an excuse to lay like this… to breathe like this…

We aren’t married.

“Hmm.”

Maximilian hummed softly.

He leaned in, inhaled the scent of her hair…slow, unhurried. Then he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.

Catherine stilled.

Mesmerized.

He reached up, carefully pulling her slip back into place. Then he stepped away. Sat beside her.

“I’ll use the bathroom first.”

He walked away. He walked… a little stiffly.

Catherine’s lips curved.

I did that.

He took a cold shower. She took a warm one. And by the time they were both dressed again, the distance between them had stretched back to thirty careful meters, and a lingering awkwardness stayed between them.

Catherine didn’t know that in the absence of maids, it fell to a man’s quiet chivalry to care for a lady.

But Maximilian did. Even now. Even like this. He had arranged her change of clothes and even her shoes.

“I have to take you somewhere,” he said.

Catherine tilted her head. “Where?”

“You’ll see.”

Now she was intrigued.

After thanking the Remington family for their hospitality, after making sure Bernice was safe, they left the estate…

And arrived in Maximilian’s neighborhood.

He led her inside a small bakery. Warm light. The scent of fresh bread and coffee… Laughter from cheerful staff behind the counter.

Catherine blinked, confused. Maximilian still looked tense, almost bracing himself.

Then…

From the staff entrance, a woman stepped out carrying a tray of fresh croissants.

Maximilian rose to his feet.

Catherine’s eyes widened.

Lady Charlotte…?

He brought her here… To meet the queen from his past life?

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