Page 49 of The Viscount, the Blacksmith, and the Lady
“Take your shot,” suggested Owen, breaking the stillness.
As the game went on, the tension slowly dissolved. They moved around the table, each man cloaked in his own reverie. Simon fought to shake off his mood. He was home now, and Xenia was here. That was all that mattered.
Xenia’s fingers paused mid-stitch as the sound of footsteps approached, heralding the end of the billiards game. She set her needlework aside on the small, polished table next to her, smoothing the delicate fabric with a tentative smile. She wasn’t certain what she expected—her men to be jovial once again, or sporting black eyes. The two entered the drawing room, their expressions betraying no signs of discord. A silent relief washed over her.
She observed them, her eyes flickering between Simon and Owen, searching for any hint of strain, but found none.
“Good evening, Xenia,” Owen said. “I’m not certain I greeted you when I arrived.”
“Did your game go well?” she inquired. She refrained from asking who won, to keep from stirring up more uneasiness.
Simon grunted in affirmation. “I’m satisfied with the result. We’ve reached a gentleman’s understanding.”
Her heart skipped at his words, hopeful yet cautious. What if the very arrangement she cherished was now at risk? The thought that Simon might revoke his consent and send Owen away clawed at her insides with sharp, unwelcome talons.
But she remained silent, her outward composure a carefully constructed facade. If Simon proposed to end their unconventional triangle, she would not allow it to happen without making her own desires known. The love she held for both men was not a fleeting fancy.
For now, she simply watched them, the lines of tension around Simon’s eyes softer as he settled into his chair. Her gaze lingered on him until he caught her staring. A small, enigmatic smile played on his lips as he returned his attention to the newspaper.
Owen, meanwhile, took a seat opposite her, appearing much more relaxed than Simon. He maintained small talk with Xenia, which continued during their meal. Simon kept to himself while sitting with them in the drawing room after they dined.
Unable to stop herself, Xenia yawned.
Owen was quick to respond. “Zee, are you ready to retire?”
Her heart fluttered as she glanced at Simon, searching his face for any sign of what he might be feeling. His features were an unreadable mask, but his eyes held a glimmer that spoke volumes. With the slightest nod, almost imperceptible, he gave his silent agreement. It was all she needed.
Rising from her chair, Xenia folded her needlework and lay it aside. The three of them moved through the familiar space of the drawing room, Simon extinguishing the candles as they went. Without uttering a word, they began their ascent upstairs.
Simon trailed behind Xenia, close enough that she could feel the heat emanating from his body. Her breath caught as she felt a sudden pinch at her bottom, a playful yet intimate gesture that sent a jolt of surprise through her. A squeak escaped her lips before she could stifle it. The sound seemed to hang in the air.
She turned her head, peering over her shoulder at Simon. His expression was one of mischief and tenderness intertwined, the corners of his mouth turned up in a smile that reached his eyes. The gesture, though unexpected, was a silent message—a reassurance of his love and desire.
“Careful now. We wouldn’t want to cause a scandal here in our own home,” she said. She turned forward once more, continuing to climb the stairs with a newfound warmth blossoming in her chest. Simon’s playful touch had ignited something within her, a spark that promised the night would hold more than just sleep.
Her surprise when they reached the bedchamber couldn’t have been greater. She turned her back to Owen, who stood nearest, to help her undress, and Simon stayed near the door. Something in his quiet manner made her look his way.
“I’m going to sleep in Owen’s chamber tonight,” Simon announced.
She frowned and turned to Owen to see if this was by prearrangement. Not seeing her answer on Owen’s face, she asked, “Are you feeling unwell? Shall I ring for a posset for you?”
“There’s no need.” He looked away but didn’t move to leave.
She wanted to go to him, to ease whatever burden strained his comfort, for clearly he was uncomfortable again.
Simon put his hands on his hips. “I know my actions aren’t always the most gracious. It was my suggestion that we could enjoy a sort of marriage with all three of us taking part.”
Her heart stopped. Was he going to put an end to what they shared?
“I thought I was a big enough man to accept that I’m not the only man Xenia holds in her heart. I’ve failed horribly. The jealousy that plagues me is unbearable at times.” He raked a hand through his hair, again breaking eye contact with them. “I don’t understand how I become aroused by watching the two of you in bed, then feel the need to make clear she’s legally mine alone.”
“I would have the same problem, Simon,” Owen confessed.
Xenia felt as if her world was collapsing. “Do you wish to make changes?”
“Yes. I’m fighting to be better about this, because I know how important Owen is to you, my love. I’ve decided to step aside occasionally and let the two of you spend a night together without me. This feels like an addiction I must conquer, the need to keep you to myself. The best way to fight an addiction is to turn away from temptation.”
Panic hit her and she rushed to Simon, wrapping her arms around him, burying her face in his chest. “I cannot bear losing you.”