Page 30 of The Viscount, the Blacksmith, and the Lady
With a shuddering cry, Zee succumbed to her orgasm, her body quaking with the force of it. Owen and Simon continued their quest for release, and when Zee’s utterings became squeaks, he wondered if she came again.
The idea broke him, wrenched all control from him, and he thought he would black out. His body trembled, and he heard Simon cry out as he came, too. He held himself above Zee to keep from crushing her, then rolled to one side, where he lay until he could draw in a complete breath again.
He went to the basin and dampened a cloth, and wiped himself before cleaning Zee’s glorious body. He could spend hours just looking at her, especially when she was languid and well-loved. “Are you well, Zee?”
“I’m delighted.” She practically purred, her smile drowsy and content as she cuddled against Simon’s chest. “I never imagined it could be like this.”
“Neither did we,” Simon admitted, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on her back.
“Promise me we’ll never lose this,” she begged, looking from one man to the other.
Owen and Simon exchanged a glance before answering in unison, “We promise.”
Setting aside the wet cloth, Owen returned to lie next to the others, content to just savor the moment. He might have drowsed, he wasn’t sure, and the others were so quiet he thought they napped, too. At some point Zee had shifted to lie between them, resting her head now on Owen’s chest.
He gazed at the flickering shadows cast by the fading sunlight on the bedroom wall, feeling Zee’s steady breath against his skin and Simon’s arm draped over her waist. The serenity of the moment wrapped around them like a warm embrace, providing a haven from the world outside.
Not checking to see if anyone was awake, he mused aloud. “Have you ever thought about what it will be like in the future? We three, together like this?”
Zee shifted slightly, resting her chin on his chest to meet his eyes. “I think about it all the time. The laughter, the love... the understanding we share.”
Simon’s hand smoothed over Zee’s back as he added, “It’s not something I ever would’ve imagined, but now that we have it, I can’t imagine living any other way.”
A smile tugged at the corners of Owen’s mouth as he looked from Zee to Simon, his heart swelling with affection for them both. “We’re lucky, you know? To have found each other like this. To have built this trust, this connection, between us.”
“More than lucky,” she agreed. “Destined, perhaps.”
Ever the voice of logic, Simon said, “We must tread carefully. There’s too much at stake if we’re discovered. But there’s no doubt in my mind that we’re worth fighting for.”
Owen nodded. “We’ll navigate whatever challenges come our way, side by side.”
“Or sandwiched between the two of you,” Zee teased lightly, drawing a chuckle from both men.
But at that moment, Owen wasn’t concerned about the unknown ahead of them. He was content to simply enjoy what they shared.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Xenia sat opposite her mother in the cozy kitchen of their family bakery, the scent of bread rising nearly overwhelming her. They shared a simple meal amidst the quiet hum of the midday lull.
Her mother’s features, usually softened by a maternal smile, today were etched with lines of concern. “I cannot pretend to be oblivious to the chatter that’s been stirring through the village,” she said eventually.
Xenia’s hand paused mid-air, a crisp crust of bread halfway to her lips. She searched her mother’s face, frowning as she sensed where the conversation was heading. “You’re referring to Simon, aren’t you?”
Her mother nodded, reaching across the table to still Xenia’s restless fingers. “Lord Kinnerton,” she corrected gently, though the underlying message was clear. “You must consider the difference in your stations... It’s all anyone can talk about.”
Surprise flickered in Xenia’s blue eyes, giving way to a spark of frustration. She withdrew her hand, tucking an errant strand of black hair back into her bun. “When was Simon reduced to nothing more than his title in this house?” Xenia countered. He was her Simon, first and foremost, beyond the reach of any societal decree.
Her mother sighed. “You know how fond I am of him. But fondness cannot shield you from what people think. His rank... it casts a long shadow over any possibility of a...” She trailed off, leaving the unsaid match to hang heavily between.
Her mother’s words struck a chord within her, thrumming with the same rhythm as the dogged pulse of her own desires. Her hands clenched beneath the table, her nails pressing crescents into her palms. She wished to push away these constraints, to continue with the life she knew, unburdened by the weight of titles and whispers. She wanted to stand firm, to hold on to the friendship with Simon.
People were talking about her relationship with Simon, and they didn’t know what that relationship truly was. They thought she was hoping for a proposal, an escape from her life in the bakery. If they knew how intimate she and Simon were, they would run her out of town.
Xenia’s gaze shifted, taking in the familiar walls of the kitchen, the sturdy table that had borne witness to countless meals and conversations. This was her world, and she was bound to it, just as she was bound to the expectations that governed it. But within her, a fire was kindled, a determination not to let go of the love she harbored, not to succumb to a future written by others’ hands.
She pushed her chair back, the legs scraping against the wooden floor, standing abruptly. “You of all people know Simon and I have been friends since we were very young. Our friendship isn’t some fleeting fancy to be snuffed out by idle chatter. It is longstanding and genuine.”
Her mother sighed, her eyes softening with a maternal blend of worry and resignation. “Darling, I know you hold your friendships dear, but we must also think of your future. The viscount must make a match to please his grandfather, and if Owen planned to propose, he would have by now. However, a friend knows a man, Mr. Harwood, the widower who owns the farm just past the mill. He’s a good man, kind, with two small children who need a mother’s care.”