The Sinful Young Master

Cleora's lips curved into a knowing smile. "I see," she murmured, clearly enjoying the flustered reaction from her daughter.

Meanwhile, Jolthar stood to the side, utterly surprised by Cleora's declaration. He hadn't expected her to say such a thing and, even more, to mean it. Her composure and confidence left him both impressed and slightly uneasy.

The idea of marrying her hadn't fully crossed his mind until now, and even then, it was more of a strategic notion—a way to gain more influence and rights over the barony.

Yet, standing there, seeing her elegance and conviction, he found himself unsure of what to feel. Cleora was, undeniably, a stunning woman, and her reputation as one of the most sought-after baronesses was well earned. Lords from across the continent had flocked to her doorstep, vying for her hand.

His thoughts were interrupted by Nora's brother, Roblan, who stepped forward and positioned himself protectively in front of Cleora. His movements were calm but deliberate, and his face bore a thoughtful expression as he addressed his mother. "Mother," he said, his voice measured, "I know you wouldn't make such a decision without thinking it through. If you truly want to marry him, I have no objections. In fact," he added, turning to Jolthar with a faint smile, "I like him. After all, he's the one who saved me. I owe him my life."

Jolthar met Roblan's gaze, sensing a curious intensity behind the man's smile. It wasn't threatening, but it carried an unsettling depth.

For a moment, Jolthar felt a chill run down his spine, unsure if Roblan's approval was entirely sincere or if there was something more behind it.

Cleora's expression softened as she nodded in gratitude. "Thank you, Roblan," she said. "Your support means a great deal to me."

Nora, on the other hand, was growing increasingly exasperated. "Not you too, brother!" she exclaimed, throwing her hands in the air.

"She can't marry him! I only brought him here to deal with Eude, but now she's the one shocking me!"

Cleora turned her attention back to her daughter, her voice gentle but firm. "Yes, dear," she said, "I know you're worried about me. I've seen the toll it's taken on you—watching all those men come here, one after another, each asking for my hand in marriage. It must have been hard, and I'm sorry for that."

Nora's expression faltered, her frustration giving way to a flicker of guilt. She averted her eyes, muttering under her breath, "It's not about that…"

Cleora continued, her tone growing resolute. "That's exactly why I've made this decision. I believe Jolthar can protect us—protect this barony—and put an end to all the unwanted suitors. He's proven himself capable, and I trust him to stand by us in times of need."

Jolthar's chest tightened as he listened. He hadn't anticipated such a declaration, and the weight of Cleora's trust in him felt heavier than he had expected. He glanced toward Nora, whose conflicted expression mirrored his own internal uncertainty.

Nora's shoulders slumped as she sighed heavily, clearly struggling to form a coherent argument against her mother's decision. "Fine," she muttered at last, her tone laced with reluctant resignation. "But don't expect me to be happy about this."

Cleora smiled softly, walking over to place a comforting hand on her daughter's shoulder. "I only want what's best for all of us," she said. "You'll see, Nora. This decision will bring us stability and peace."

Nora didn't respond, her gaze fixed firmly on the floor.

As the room fell into an uneasy silence, Jolthar finally spoke. "If this is what you've decided, Lady Cleora," he said, his voice steady, "then I will do everything in my power to live up to your trust."

With Nora being so reluctant to be there, maybe this was better, he thought. Marrying her mother would give him access to the barony and its business. He can ask her to cooperate in the business. A grin formed on his lips, thinking about how he would become her daddy now.

Cleora nodded, her eyes meeting his with unwavering determination. "I have no doubt you will," she replied. She noticed his grin and smiled at him, trying to guess what he was thinking; after all, she fancied him from the time she laid her eyes on him. His tall and strong physique, and especially she liked that handsome face of his. And his calculating gaze when he talks to others.

The moment hung heavy in the air, each of them silently coming to terms with the path that had been set before them.

Outside, the evening sky deepened into twilight, the shadows lengthening as the first stars began to twinkle above.

The room felt heavier after Nora stormed off, her frustration echoing faintly through the halls of the mansion. Roblan too left the room after glancing at his mother and then towards Jolthar. His gaze paused at Nytheria, intrigued by her appearance.

Nytheria still posed herself on the sofa, not bothered by the drama going on in front of her; in fact, she seemed amused. She was watching Cleora and Jolthar closely, as though they were entertaining her.
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Jolthar stood motionless, his sharp mind churning over the possibilities her mother's actions had just presented. He had originally come here to secure an alliance with Nora, to draw her into his plans, and to establish his foothold in the barony. But with her so adamantly opposed to his presence, perhaps fate was pointing him toward an alternative, more advantageous path.

Cleora.

The thought struck him like a bolt of lightning.

Marrying the Baroness wasn't just an impulsive notion. It was a move that could solidify his position in the region, granting him not only influence over the mines but also a partnership that could elevate his ambitions.

A grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he entertained the thought. The added satisfaction of irritating Nora with the union made the idea even sweeter. Becoming her daddy, he mused, his grin broadening slightly, wouldn't that be something?