Page 43

He followed the enchanting melody, his footsteps light on the polished floor as he approached the source of the sound. The corridor led him to the library, its grand oak doors slightly ajar. He hesitated for a moment, leaning to the side of the wall in an effort to peer inside.

Ciara was standing by a large window, her back to him, as she flipped through the pages of an old book. The golden afternoon light streamed through the glass, casting a warm glow around her. She was singing softly, her voice a gentle, lilting tune that filled the room with a serene beauty.

Jonathan stood just outside the doorway, leaning against the frame as he closed his eyes and let the melody wash over him. The sound was like a caress, soothing and irresistible, pulling at something deep within him. He reveled in the moment, letting the music weave its spell around him. Without waiting for the song to end, he hastily rushed to his study, wondering what sort of a spell she had over him.

He wanted her in his bed even more than before, now that he had a taste of her. But his lust for her seemed to be something far more potent, growing into something he couldn’t quite explain. The thought made him flinch.

No, no,he assured himself.Nothing is happening.

Over the next few days, Jonathan found himself avoiding his wife, plunging himself into his work with a fervor that bordered on obsession. He shut himself in his study, pouring over estate ledgers, tenant reports, and correspondence. The hours blurred together as he lost himself in the details, using the demands of the estate as a shield against the confusing attraction swirling within him.

He sneaked through the corridors of his own home like a thief in the night. As he walked with his steward that afternoon, learning of the renovations that needed to be done in the overly dilapidated west wing of the manor house, he realized that he was barely able to focus on the conversation.

“The rain ruined a large portion of the roof, Your Grace,” his steward explained as the two men kept walking down the hallway. “Mrs. Dawson has pointed out that it is leaking in several places.”

“Yes, of course,” Jonathan agreed. “We need to mend it as soon as possible.”

“I could bring some men from the village nearby,” the man said. “I know good workers there who will do a fine job.”

“All right,” Jonathan agreed. “That sounds fine.”

“I shall go as soon as tomorrow, and I can…” The man continued to talk, but Jonathan wasn’t listening any longer. He had heard footsteps at the end of the corridor, and he stopped.

One window allowed a good view of the end of that same corridor as it encircled the house, and he thought he had seen Ciara pass by it.

Feeling nervous, he hastily looked around, noticing the door to one of the guest chambers.

“Yes, Arden, make it happen,” he hastily said. “Now, if that is all, I have to… go inside… here.” He pointed at the guest chamber.

Arden lifted an eyebrow, but he didn’t question his master’s strange decision. Still, Jonathan felt the need to clarify. “I need to see if the maids are doing a good job of cleaning the rooms that aren’t in use.”

“Of course,” Arden nodded again without hesitation.

Jonathan immediately slipped into the room, closing the door behind him and then leaning onto it, as if someone might break through and catch him doing something illicit, something forbidden. Ciara’s voice still haunted him, echoing in his mind during quiet moments. Her laughter, her smile, the touch of her hand—they were all distractions he couldn’t afford.

When he couldn’t hear anyone any longer, he slipped out into the corridor and sneaked back into his study. Those days, he worked late into the night, or at least tried to, and he often forgot to eat, which was something he hadn’t even noticed by himself. Mrs. Dawson noticed his waning condition and brought him sandwiches and tea. She placed the tray on his desk with a concerned frown.

“Your Grace, you must eat something,” she urged gently. “You’ve been at this for hours.”

Jonathan barely glanced up, his eyes fixed on the documents spread before him. “Thank you, Mrs. Dawson. I’ll eat in a moment.”

But he didn’t. The sandwiches remained untouched, the tea growing cold beside him. Mrs. Dawson sighed and left him to his work though she continued to check on him periodically. He knew that she worried about him as a mother did, and he appreciated it although he could not tell her what made him act in such a manner.

All he knew was that he needed a bit of time away from Ciara to sort out this confusing attraction that was not letting him be. All he could think about was her, the way she tasted, the way she smelled, the way her moans sounded when he made her writhe with pleasure. He wanted more of it, and that was the confusing part.

Usually, his interest would wane after a night in bed. He tried to comfort himself by focusing on the fact that he had not really bedded her yet. What they had was merely an interlude which was driving him mad with desire, constantly yearning for more.

Yes, that must be it,he thought to himself. Once he bedded her properly, this confusion would go away, and everything would go back to normal.

That same afternoon, Jonathan was surprised to have a visit from his best friend. He greeted him with a firm handshake and a welcoming smile.

“Hector, old boy, it is always a pleasure to see you in broad daylight,” Jonathan teased, leading him inside and to his study where the two men got comfortable. “A drink?” he suggested.

“In broad daylight?” Hector replied playfully. Then, he shook his head. “Knowing that you will probably want to talk to me about the difficulties of married life, I will probably need a strong drink to endure all that.”

“Ah, you know me so well, old friend,” Jonathan laughed, proceeding to pour them each a glass of brandy, the amber liquid glinting in the sunlight streaming through the windows.

Hector took a long, satisfied sip of his drink, and then he nodded. “All right, I am ready. So, how is married life treating you, Jonathan?”