W hen Simon stepped out of his carriage into the cool evening air upon his return, there she was—Xenia, his wife, the beacon of warmth in his world. Her eyes sparkled with delight upon seeing him, an emotion he mirrored tenfold.
He wrapped her in a hug he hated to end. “How I’ve longed for this moment.”
She offered him a playful smirk as she tilted her head in feigned innocence. “And what moment is that, my lord?”
“To bed you,” he confessed without hesitation, his voice a deep rumble of contained desire. “But alas, we mustn’t give the staff fodder for their whispers, so I can’t take you here beside the carriage.” His fingers brushed lightly up her spine, making her shiver.
“Then we shall go somewhere more private,” Xenia suggested, her eyes alight with mischief. She took his hand, leading him away from the prying eyes of their household servants.
They slipped into the study, the door clicking shut behind them. In an instant, Simon’s hands were upon her, his lips claiming hers with a fervor borne of longing. He drew back just enough to look at her, his gaze tracing the lines of her face before descending to the décolletage of her gown.
“Forgive me, I can’t go slowly.” Tender yet insistent, his fingers worked at freeing her breasts from the confines of her gown. The cool air of the study mingled with the heat of his mouth as he lavished attention upon her, drawing a gasp from her lips.
In between love bites, he asked, “Did Owen touch you like this while I was gone?”
He regretted the words as he felt her go rigid. Her hands shot out and pressed against Simon’s broad chest. She pushed, and he stumbled back. With trembling fingers, she righted the fabric of her gown, her cheeks flushed not just with desire but with a flare of anger.
“Simon, what happens in my private moments with either you or Owen is exactly that—private.” Her eyes blazed as she held his gaze, daring him to challenge her.
“I do not speak to Owen of your intimacies, nor shall I recount his to you. You’ve welcomed this arrangement into our marriage, so you will respect its sanctity. ”
The air was thick with unspoken words and tension as they made their way to the drawing room. Simon took his usual seat, unfolding the newspaper with a crisp snap, hiding behind the printed words as though they could shield him from the discomfort of the situation.
Xenia picked up her needlework and stitched in silence.
The quiet of the room was broken a bit later when the butler announced, “Mr. Bishop is here to see you, my lord.”
“Send him in, and have another place set at the dining table.” Simon said. His presence couldn’t make the room feel any colder.
“Owen!” Xenia exclaimed, her voice filled with what sounded too much like relief.
“I thought you weren’t due back until tomorrow, Simon,” Owen said with a hint of apology in his tone. “I’ll just head home then.”
“Stay,” Simon said with uncharacteristic haste. “We’d enjoy your company.”
Owen hesitated, glancing between husband and wife, as if sensing the undercurrent of tension. Then, with a nod, he accepted the invitation.
“Good. How about a game of billiards?” Simon rose, folding his newspaper with deliberate care.
In the billiard room, the click of ivory balls filled the air as Simon took his shot, leaning over the table. Owen appeared thoughtful as he observed Simon lining up his next play.
“How was Xenia while I was gone?” Simon asked suddenly, his voice low, almost hesitant. “Did you take her in every room in the house?”
Owen folded his arms across his chest. “You know I can’t answer that, Simon. What happens when I’m alone with her is private.”
Simon released a sigh, the weight of it carrying more than just air. His shoulders slumped ever so slightly as he nodded. “Of course. My apologies, Owen. It’s... been a difficult return.”
“Did your grandfather recover?” Owen asked.
Simon steadied his cue and aimed for the side pocket. The cue ball rolled with a purpose, striking the striped one and sinking it with a satisfying clunk. He straightened, feeling Owen’s eyes on him.
“Yes, he is well. My presence wasn’t required, I discovered, but I’m his only family remaining, so I felt I should stay.”
He took his next shot, but missed. “My troubles are of my own making. I didn’t realize how fierce this... jealousy would grow. The thought of you with her while I was away—it gnawed at me.”
After missing his own shot, Owen leaned against the billiard table, arms crossed over his chest. “Now you see what it’s like for me most days. You’re not alone in that feeling.”
Simon took longer to choose his next move as he processed Owen’s words, his mind grappling with empathy and jealousy intertwined. A silence ensued, filled only by the soft rustle of fabric as he shifted his stance.
“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.”
He patted her hair and planted a kiss on her head. “You’ll never lose me, love. I’m talking about one night here or there where it can be like I was away. You and I have nights alone every week, and are free to enjoy each other’s company throughout the day while Owen works.”
“But you’ve just returned,” she said, searching his eyes for reassurance she didn’t see.
“There’s never a better time to make changes than now.” Simon looked at Owen. “I can’t promise how often I’ll offer you this boon.”
“I understand,” Owen said.
Grasping Xenia’s arms, Simon urged her away from him, and kissed her so thoroughly she was gasping for breath. “I love you, Xenia. I will see you at breakfast.”
With that, he left her alone with Owen.