Chapter 236

How to Tame My Beastly Husband — Chapter 236. Descendant (2)

Raphael eyed his wife with determination, but it wavered when he noted her slender shoulders. To him, she looked so fragile, she could not possibly carry and give birth to a child.

I don’t think it’s possible.

Immediately, he revised his plans. He would be satisfied if his child was more like Annette. Even if his son did not become a Master of Swords, his son would still look like her.

So long as he isn’t like me.

Raphael was realistic. He knew his own temperament was hardly good, and he wouldn’t try to justify it. It would be a problem if his son were exactly like him.

But it thrilled him to imagine his child being born to Annette, but…what about the risks she would take for that joy? They were too great, a slim woman like her might die in childbirth, and Raphael’s heart suddenly froze as he imagined it, Annette breathing her last on bloodstained sheets.

His hand tightened on hers in shock at that thought, that he might cause her death.

“Ah!” Annette let out a weak cry at the sudden, crushing grip, and Raphael released her, startled.

“Sorry,” he said anxiously, filled with fear at the thought of losing her. “Did that hurt?”

He bent to look at her small hand, his expression solemn, and she couldn’t help blushing. She had mostly grown accustomed to her husband’s face, but her heart still lurched when he suddenly brought it close to her.

“No, it doesn’t hurt,” she said, gently tugging her hand back. “It just surprised me.”

That was not enough for Raphael. He kissed her forehead a few times as an apology, like a bird, and made Annette turn red as a cherry.

“Ahem,” said Prince Ludwig, pretending to cough.

It seemed they had forgotten he was there, and he would have liked nothing more than to return immediately to the palace, where he would no longer be subject to these scenes.

“That completes my errand,” he said abruptly, and bid them farewell. They both offered a polite goodbye, but they made no attempt to entreat him to linger.

It always thrilled Annette when Raphael lifted her in his strong arms, as if she weighed no more than a feather. She could feel the muscles of his chest, the pounding of his heart, and the warmth of his body, burning hotter with desire.

“I’ll be right back,” he promised.

It had been too hot in the drawing room, when they received Ludwig, especially for a man as active and robust as Raphael. He was worried she wouldn’t like his sweat.

A man in love had many worries.

Abandoning her on the bed, Raphael vanished instantly.

“My goodness,” Annette said, her eyes widening, and she laughed after her vanished husband. “There’s no need to be that quick.”

She leaned back against the headboard. It was nice when Raphael was so sweet to her, but she liked it even better when he was a little wild.

Lost in these pleasant thoughts, she started when someone knocked on the door.

“Who is it?”

Well, she had thought the knock was from the door, but then she realized it had come from a window, where a man was sitting outside, perched on a long tree branch.