Chapter 231

Isabella realized she was the one who shifted positions during sleep.

Somehow she had migrated from her designated side of the bed directly into the center.

This meant Anthony hadn't moved to embrace her—she had actively curled into his arms instead.

Heat flooded her cheeks with instant mortification. This made no logical sense. Her sleeping habits were notoriously still; she never tossed or turned recklessly. How could this occur?

Nathaniel sat up gracefully, adjusting his clothes with deliberate elegance. A smirk played on his lips. "Last time was understandable since you were poisoned. This occasion requires an explanation, Ms. Montgomery."

Last time...

Dread pooled in her stomach as memories resurfaced—that night Lawrence Chamberlain drugged her. Hazy fragments flashed through her mind: lunging at Nathaniel, grinding against him, climbing atop him...

Humiliation burned through her veins. She shook off the vivid recollections sharply. "Why is a grown man complaining? You weren't the one violated here. Stop being shameless!" She slid off the mattress, ready to escape.

Nathaniel's gaze intensified, locking onto her. "That was my first embrace. I've always remained pure. Shouldn't you take responsibility?"

"Don't lie! How could you never have held a woman? Don't fabricate accusations!" She rolled her eyes while slipping on her shoes.

He caught her wrist, expression turning deadly serious. "Isabella, I never lie."

His unwavering stare made her heartbeat stutter uncontrollably.

Was that true? Had he really never lied? Was Nathaniel Blackwood genuinely untouched?

His lips curved into a faint smile. "Marry me. You won't regret it." His voice dropped to a low, determined timbre.

Disbelief swamped her. Their modern society overflowed with promiscuous men, especially wealthy ones who treated women as toys. Yet here he was, completely chaste...!

Obviously no woman would regret marrying him—he was literally one in a million. But...

Her eyes dimmed slightly as she pulled her hand free. "I don't like men who are too pure. It's childish." She fabricated an excuse and bolted from the room.

Nathaniel frowned. Childish?

Did she just call him childish? Or was she insulting his purity? Perhaps it was time to teach her a proper lesson.

Isabella fled into another room like escaping catastrophe. She splashed cold water on her face in the bathroom, Nathaniel's words echoing in her mind. She never imagined he was untouched, but this revelation made everything more complicated. She needed to clarify last night's conversation soon.

"Mommy, you're awake?" Oliver's timid voice interrupted. "Look at my painting."

She turned to see him approaching with a canvas.

The artwork depicted three figures sleeping on a bed—a man and woman cradling a small boy between them. Rendered in oils, the subjects were unmistakably themselves.

Isabella stared in shock. "Momo, you painted this?"

"Yes! Do you like it, Mommy?" Hope sparkled in his eyes.

"Of course! You're so young yet created something this impressive! You're more talented than me!" She praised warmly, ruffling his hair.

Oliver jumped joyfully. "I'm glad you like it! I got inspired early this morning. I'll ask someone to hang it beside our bed!"

Her smile faltered slightly. He wanted to display it near the bed? What if his grandparents or relatives visited? They would undoubtedly see it.