His Scorned Bride Turned Out To Be Legendary

"We're here to escort you home, Miss Morgan."

Fernanda Morgan surveyed the men in crisply tailored suits who stood before her.

"Your parents have been tirelessly searching for you over the years. Upon discovering your whereabouts, they promptly dispatched us to ensure your return," the man who appeared to be a butler announced, his smile radiating warmth. "Moreover, the Harper family is keenly anticipating your return. You are to be engaged to Mr. Harper once you return!"

"Alright then. Let's go," Fernanda agreed with a slight nod.

She collected her already-packed belongings and stepped into the vehicle.

The journey from the small town of Zhota to Esaham was a long one, spanning at least two days by car.

As dusk enveloped the sky, they pulled into another small town. The butler located a modestly appealing motel and proposed they stay overnight.

Fernanda's accommodation was at the far end of the second-floor hallway, Room 201-arguably the best room available. The butler and the rest of their group opted to stay on the lower floor.

The night was unusually warm and dry, rendering the room's aging air conditioner useless. Fernanda opened the window to invite a cool breeze, causing the curtains to dance gently in the evening air.

Fresh from her shower, she dimmed the lights and crawled into bed for the night.

Drifting into a light sleep, she was jolted awake by a disturbance outside.

A subsequent noise at the window snapped her to full alert. As she bolted upright, a shadowy figure burst through, launching itself onto her bed.

The freezing touch of a blade hovered at her neck as a low, threatening voice growled, "Don't you dare move."

Immobile, Fernanda's body clenched in fear.

The faint, iron tang of blood lingered on the man's sleeve-a grim reminder of his dangerousness. This unmistakable hint solidified the fact: this man was no one to mess with.

Outside, the commotion intensified. Shortly after, a forceful knock resonated at the door. A coarse voice demanded, "Is anyone there? Open up now!"

As the voice still echoed, the knife at Fernanda's neck dug in slightly deeper.

The man's voice dripped with malice as he warned, "Get rid of them, or you're as good as dead."

His right arm ensnared her waist, his left hand unwavering with the knife at her throat.

Through his firm grip and calculated movements, Fernanda realized he was deadly serious.

Cornered, she knew she had to play along for the time being.

"Sure." With a soft, steady voice, Fernanda reassured him. "It'll all be okay."

With no answer from inside, the outsiders used a master key to unlock the door and stormed in.

At the sound, the man jerked Fernanda's baggy T-shirt, pulling her down onto his lap and encircling her with his arm, forcing her to straddle him as he shifted position.

Right then, the door flung open, and a stark beam of flashlight flooded the room.

Fernanda let out a panicked scream, quickly bending over the man to obscure him from view.

"Sweetheart, what the hell is this place? How could anyone have the audacity to barge in like that?" Acting as though she was terrified, Fernanda held onto the man, her grip firm and desperate.

Her voice, usually sweet and enticing, now carried an edge of annoyance mingled with a breathless charm that was utterly captivating.

Suddenly, Fernanda felt the man beneath her tense up.

Seconds later, he encircled her with his arm and expertly flipped over, drawing the blanket over both their bodies.

As the blanket slid, its soft whispers merged with the steady rhythm of their breaths, painting a scene of understated sensuality.

Faces flushed with embarrassment, the group at the door stood stiffly, unprepared for the private display before them.

Nonetheless, the couple inside the room showed no signs of halting their intimate exchange.

The motel's security guard chuckled uncomfortably, "Looks like they're pretty busy... Maybe we ought to leave, huh?"

One of the men brushed past the guard and entered the room with a purposeful stride.

Fernanda's heartbeat skyrocketed as she heard the footsteps drawing near. Could they actually be contemplating unveiling them?

A chilling blade pressed against her side, its pointed tip grazing her skin, sending a shiver through her already tense body.

The footsteps halted next to the bed, and with a surge of courage, Fernanda leaned in closer to the man beneath her.

Pulled back gently, the blanket gave way to the flashlight's piercing light, exposing a glimpse of her delicate, bare back.

In the softness of the bed, their movements continued unabated. Fernanda's lips met his in a fervent kiss, her hair cascading down to obscure his face, while his hand gently caressed her side.

The subdued moans that slipped from their lips lent the scene an air of genuine intimacy.

Abruptly, a voice erupted from beyond the room, piercing the tranquility. "Boss! Something's going down out on the street!"

Instantly, the man at the bedside sprang to his feet and vanished through the door.

With the door slamming behind him, Fernanda disentangled herself and slipped from the bed.

Moonlight seeped through a crack in the curtains, casting delicate shadows across the room. The man watched as Fernanda's slender figure was silhouetted against the pale light.

Memories of earlier washed over him; his fingers traced her skin, so smooth and velvety. She had gripped his arms, her delicate skin pressing softly against his.

Her hair had brushed his face, each strand silky, carrying a subtle fragrance.

Her voice had been a soft melody, soothing to his ears.

This woman was serene and astute. Amid the intrusion, rather than succumb to panic, she had pressed her lips to his, a kiss so convincing it had deceived the pursuers.

Her lips had been refreshingly cool against his, and her technique was rather clumsy, only pressing her lips against his without any other movement-evidently her first kiss.

Breaking the ensuing quiet, the man's voice softened from its usual sternness to a rasp tinged with allure. "Was that your first kiss?"