The Heiress’ Return: Six Brothers at Her Beck and Call (Wynter Quinnell) novel Chapter 1842

"Miss?" Dalton let out a soft chuckle as he called out to her, yet he was not entirely pressing. There was an undercurrent of something refined in his tone.

His cool breath brushed against the back of her ear. He was so close that if she moved even slightly, he could easily dip his head and press his lips to her neck.

Wynter hadn't entertained such thoughts before. After all, she'd never been particularly guarded around him. Back in the formation in Hawford, she'd been somewhat wary, but that was because they weren't close then.

Thinking about everything they had experienced together and the dreams that followed, although Dalton had crossed some lines, he had never done anything to truly harm her. So, she'd let her guard down.

To suddenly be on guard now would be out of character. And given how perceptive he was, he'd definitely notice.

The moment the thought crossed her mind, she met his slightly lowered gaze.

He was watching her, his eyes not warm in the slightest but brimming with something far more predatory. It was as if, with one wrong move, the restrained ferocity beneath his polished exterior would spill over.

Elegant, yes. But when he smiled, he looked every bit the legendary, refined, and devastatingly handsome villain.

Wynter hadn't yet sorted out her thoughts, but her first reaction was to reach out to him. What was he planning, revealing his true nature in front of these orthodox old fools? A sacrifice?

Dalton felt her hand gripping his wrist, his emotions settling into something unreadable. Then, his gaze swept toward Wynter, who was standing so close before him, his actions briefly pausing.

She must have realized he wasn't as harmless as he seemed. So, what did this mean? Didn't she want to leave?

Wynter did want to leave, but given the current situation…

Her brow arched. Without wasting words, she yanked him down by the collar until his face was mere inches from hers. "Look around. This isn't the place to unleash hell, my dearest fiancé."

Fiancé.

It wasn't the first time she'd called him that. She had mentioned that, in the distant future, there would be an engagement between them.

Not that he'd ever believed it. The idea of being bound to anyone had been laughable. But, now that he thought about it, it wasn't entirely unacceptable.

His dark eyes glinted with something akin to amusement.

"We'll talk after we return," Wynter said, shoving him back.

There was still cleanup to do.

She hadn't expected that even after breaking the formation, she'd still be trapped here. She'd certainly made herself the prime target of every sect's resentment. Right now, every sage probably wanted to strangle her.

She glanced at them.

These old-fashioned cultivators were clearly unused to seeing a female cultivator behave so intimately with someone in broad daylight—their expressions were less than pleasant.

"Ailithir, your disciple has the talent to ascend to the Sacred Path, but this behavior—" One of the sages couldn't help but shake his head at Ailithir.

Ailithir, however, was as open-minded as ever. Normally, he'd just chuckle and stroke his beard, indulging her antics. But today, his gaze lingered on Dalton, a flicker of concern crossing his face.

When he turned back to the others, he simply smiled again, as if no matter what Wynter did, it was all harmless so long as she was happy.

Every farce had to end, especially one as grand as Mt. Lunther's. The sects' credibility was crumbling before their eyes. No one could guarantee another Isidore wouldn't emerge.

Mt. Lunther's disciples stood in dazed silence, unsure where to go next.

"Anywhere's better than staying here as workhorses, only to be labelled worthless."

"Yeah. Who knows, one day we might just become someone's cultivation fuel. We might as well enlist in the military."

"Right! Joining the military sounds better. My father even sent a letter up the mountain before, saying there's a war going on and that he felt uneasy. He wanted me to go home and visit. Now that I think about it, I haven't gone home once in all these years."

"It's time to go home!"

These disciples' youthful spirit burned bright. Some chose to stay, some chose to leave, while some still wanted to find a sect to join. But no matter what they chose, it was better than being bound by rigid rules and treated as expendable.

Every sect had its own corruption, and today had exposed a great deal of it. After this, they'd have no choice but to rein themselves in. For example, the practice of capturing and refining demonic beasts for their cores had suddenly disappeared from discussion altogether.

Rebuilding their disciples' trust was now their top priority. After all, everyone was shaken—except for Mt. Nyxvarn. They were the only ones who had remained untouched and even gained merit.

Divine retribution was inevitable, but Wynter had prepared for the thunderstrike trial. Whether it was medicinal herbs or resentful energy, she had done everything necessary. Ailithir should be safe this time.

But deep down, she knew—formations could mend regrets, but reality could not be changed. Still, she had to try, even if only for a sliver of hope.

Yet, she couldn't shake her unease about Isidore's lingering soul fragment. So, as they left Mt. Lunther, she extended an invitation to Raleigh to visit Mt. Nyxvarn.

"A visit?" Dalton repeated the word slowly, his face half-hidden in shadow, unreadable.

This habit of hers—dragging people up the mountain—was becoming a problem.

Raleigh, having been through too much in one day, was utterly drained. His attendants were worried sick seeing him in such a state. Hence, when Wynter offered to take him along, they were beyond relieved, practically sending him off with a parade, piling up an endless supply of gifts.

Feradach, ever tactless, just had to comment, "Look at this. If I didn't know better, I'd say this was a marriage proposal."

The others hadn't considered it. But now that he said it, everyone turned to look at the large and small neatly stacked chests.

"It really does look like one. It's no surprise coming from a century-old noble family. Their wealth runs deep."

Only the Winston family could so casually produce such an abundance of treasure—scrolls, ancient artifacts, pearls, and jewelry. They were all meant as a gift of gratitude for the princess. But to them, it really did resemble a marriage proposal.

"For saving his life, it's only fair Mr. Winston offers himself, right?"

The murmurs drifted over in waves. Even though they were some distance away, Dalton heard every word loud and clear. Now that he was in his adult form, his spiritual power had naturally begun to return. At his current level, such a distance meant nothing.

But these words… They filled him with a deep irritation.

He lifted his hand slightly, and the chests on the ground suddenly toppled over, sending a wave of disorder through the crowd.

However, Kaspar never got along with the sect leaders. He found them hypocritical—always keeping their hands clean and staying uninvolved, trusting that others would bear the burden when the sky fell.

Unlike them, Kaspar had always been among the people, earning their respect and admiration, which was why his name was well known throughout Cascadia.

Before long, he arrived at Atwater's residence, only to find that he wasn't there. With no other choice, Kaspar turned back.

As luck would have it, just a few steps into his return, an MPV pulled up beside him.

Kaspar was puzzled, but before he could react, the backseat door slowly opened, revealing Fabian.

Kaspar considered pretending not to see him, but just as he lifted his leg, Fabian spoke. "Mr. Stavius, come in. I'll give you a ride back."

Left with no choice, Kaspar got into the car. As the driver closed the door, Fabian turned to him, his voice serious. "Mr. Stavius, please tell me the truth. Where exactly has Wynter gone?"

Kaspar had already guessed that Fabian had visited Theo. He sighed. "Fabian, it's not that I don't want to tell you the truth. I don't even know how to explain it."

A flicker of unease crossed Fabian's eyes, though he kept his composure. "Just tell me what's happened. What is she doing?"

Seeing his expression, Kaspar decided not to hide anything. "All I can say is that Wynter will be fine. She's handling something incredibly difficult. If she's truly in danger, I'll protect her with my life.

"You know as well as I do that your granddaughter is no ordinary girl. Greatness, though hidden, will always emerge."

Fabian remained silent for a long moment. "But I only want her to live a safe and peaceful life, even if I know she is meant for more."

Kaspar was momentarily stunned. In this moment, the depth of familial love was laid bare. What grandparent would want their grandchildren to walk into danger? They only wished for them to live safely, have enough to eat, and be warm and well.

The car continued forward. Fabian stared out the window, deep lines on his face, but his gaze gradually grew resolute.

He turned back to Kaspar. "Perhaps you're right. I shouldn't impose the thinking of my generation onto hers. Since she is destined for greatness, as her grandfather, I should be her strongest support."

Kaspar, understanding how much determination this required, patted Fabian's shoulder. "Trust her. Those who achieve great things must sometimes set aside their personal lives for the greater good.

"To have a granddaughter like Wynter... Who is to say a woman cannot rival a man?"

Kaspar's words struck a chord within Fabian's heart.

Fabian let out a breath, setting aside his worries, and instructed the driver, "Call off the search. Have everyone return to their duties."

The driver nodded. "Understood, Mr. Quinnell Senior."

Soon, the car stopped at the hotel. Kaspar stepped out, and Fabian offered a final word. "I'll be staying in Colifernia for a few more days. With Wynter away, there are some matters I'll handle on her behalf. Once everything's settled, let's have a meal together."

Kaspar smiled. "I'd be honored."

With that, Kaspar stood in place, watching as the car drove off.

Kaspar knew Fabian's resolve wasn't easily made. If Fabian truly wanted Wynter by his side forever, he had the means to make it so. Yet, he'd chosen otherwise.