Chapter 10 #2
“Are you just going to stand there?” he smirked. “Take a seat.”
She nodded and went to sit down on the chair beside him.
“No,” he stopped her. His voice startled her.
“But you just said…”
“Here,” he pointed towards his lap.
A deep blush colored her cheeks as her eyes darted from his face to the space he had indicated. Surely, she had misunderstood.
“Your G-Grace… I… I am not sure if I understand what you wish for me to do here,” she managed to splutter out, her cheeks burning.
“I thought I had been sufficiently clear, but no problem. Let me show you what I mean.”
Simon’s hand reached out and circled her waist. Before she could even think of protesting—if she were even to do such a thing—he began to pull down gently and guided her onto his lap.
She was far too close to him now, and her thoughts were growing cloudier by the minute.
It was enough that she could feel the heat of his breath on her skin, but another thing entirely to sit so close to him—on top of him.
Their skin touched, and despite the barrier of clothing that separated them, it felt far too intimate.
But more importantly, it felt entirely inappropriate. Simon seemed unfazed as he carried on speaking, shaking his head to signal his exasperation.
“I think you have a problem with being too stubborn,” he carried on as though she was not seated on his lap at this moment. “If you are not going to feed yourself, then I am going to have to take matters into my own hands.”
His voice was gruff, and Rachel could feel the reverberations that it sent across her entire body. A part of her wished to melt further into him, but she snapped herself out of it quickly.
”I—This is highly improper,” she managed to stutter out. “We are at the breakfast table.”
“And we are doing what one does at a breakfast table,” Simon replied. “I am making sure that you eat.”
“I can sit on my own chair and feed myself,” she said, though her voice lacked any sort of conviction.
“There is no need,” Simon smirked in response.
“But what if someone sees…” Rachel said, straining her neck to look behind her. But Simon grabbed firmly onto her waist, holding her in place.
“You must relax,” he said. “It seems that I have to be the one to remind you now that the two of us are married. It does not matter. Besides, if anyone sees and chooses to have an opinion about it, then you need not worry. I will make sure that it is handled.”
Before she could argue further, he reached for a piece of bread from his plate, his other hand steadying her by the hip—the contact making her heart race.
“Open,” he said simply, holding up the piece of bread to her lips.
“Surely I can eat in my own chair…” she rambled, but he shot her a look that shut her up immediately. She did as she was told, parting her lips and taking a small bite.
“Good,” he murmured. “You’re so much more pleasant when you listen.”
She felt her mind growing dizzy again. He fed her another bite, and she ate it. This time, she did not protest.
And she wanted him to feed her.
If this was how he was going to devote attention to her every time she forgot to eat, then perhaps she would forget to do so more often.
He was being patient, waiting for her to finish chewing before offering another bite. All the while, he never took his gaze away from her.
She had never thought of herself as sufficiently interesting to be observed for this long. She almost wanted to ask him why he was still looking at her.
But somehow, she felt herself unable to concentrate. Being able to come up with words would prove to be even more difficult.
As he continued to feed her, she felt her hunger for food diminish and another kind of hunger take its place.
Simon’s thumb brushed her hip absently, and Rachel shivered at the sensation. Worried about losing control entirely, she cleared her throat in desperation, coughing as she did.
“What’s the matter?” he asked, a bit too close. “Something stuck in your throat?”
“No,” she answered in a rush. “I feel full now. Thank you.”
“Strange,” he mused, setting down the piece he had selected to feed her. “I feel even hungrier.”
It was as though he had read her mind. Was he talking about the same hunger? The thought alone was enough to send a shiver down her spine.
“You have eaten enough,” he said, abruptly. He dropped his fork and cleared his throat. “I should leave now.”
“Oh,” she slid out of his lap, flushed.
He got up then, regarding her for a moment. “There is one thing that you ought to know.”
“Y…yes?”
“Lady Linwood. She’ll be arriving this evening.”
“Lady Linwood,” she said finally, hoping to lighten the mood. “Your aunt? She’s the one the staff say you’re closest to?”
Simon’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Is that what they say about her? I suppose that’s right,” he said simply.
Rachel nodded and decided to keep the rest of her queries to herself for now.
He had already announced his departure, and it would be a futile attempt to ask him now. Of course, she wished to know more about him. But Simon Linwood had his own ways of doing things. He shared only what he chose to and never more than was necessary.
“I’ll make sure the house is ready to welcome her,” Rachel said instead.
“That won’t be necessary. The staff knows what to do.”
She nodded again, feeling the distance between them grow.
“Go on. Prepare for the day.”
He was about to leave when she stopped him again, not being able to help herself.
“I heard something interesting from the staff.”
Simon arched a brow. “Oh? And what has the staff been telling you?” His tone was not suspicious, only curious.
“Is Lady Linwood… well, the aunt that you inherited your title from?”
“Yes. I am not sure why that is relevant, however, in any way?”
“I am just attempting to understand you better. From what I heard from the staff… they said you weren’t the late duke’s son.” She glanced at him hesitantly. “So this is the aunt in question?”
“Have you been interviewing the staff to glean information about me?”
“No,” she said immediately. “Well, not like that. I suppose I have to get it somewhere, considering how little you tell me yourself.”
“Fair play then.” Once again, she could not tell if he was upset or not. His expression remained thoroughly—and frustratingly—neutral.
“So, then?” she prodded gently.
“It is correct,” he said curtly.
She hesitated, unsure whether to push further, but her curiosity won out. “Do you have other family, then? Brothers? Sisters?”
“No.”
“What about your parents?”
“They are no longer alive,” he said in a blunt tone.
Immediately, Rachel felt remorse at having posed such a question. She did not wish to bring up any unpleasant memories for him. His tone was harsh, and she could tell that her question had not been welcomed.
“I am sorry,” she said immediately. She tried to reach out and touch his arm. Her touch was the only way that she felt that she could convey some feeling of comfort towards him. But he moved out of the way. “I did not mean to bring up something you do not wish to discuss.”
“I would advise you to keep your apologies to yourself,” he said. “My aunt is family, and I care about her a great deal. You are expected to greet her when she arrives today. Prepare yourself.”
Simon walked away before Rachel could even begin to think of a response. But it had been for the best. She had broached a sensitive topic and did not know how to properly discuss it.