Chapter 32
Rayna
Rayna glanced up from her phone and across her shoulder when a quiet knock sounded at her open bedroom door.
Dominic peeked half out from behind it like a hesitant child.
A confused frown bunched her brows. Why on Neves was he knocking as if he were a stranger?
He shuffled a little further into the room. “May I come in?”
She arched an amused brow. “Since when have you ever asked?”
“Well, I…” He cleared his throat. “I wasn’t certain if you would like…
” His cheeks pinkened as his mouth silently searched for words.
“That is to say, women from my time prefer to have their own space when they are on their…courses.” He waved one hand around, quick and muddled.
“At least, the women I am familiar with. Of my family, I mean to say. So I thought perhaps you might…wish for the same.”
Ah. So that was what was up.
Dominic was hesitating because her period had started.
He’d been just as awkward, stupefied, and cautiously curious that morning when she’d told him she’d started bleeding.
Being from the time and environment that he was, he’d fumbled around the topic, trying to ask her about it without directly asking anything.
She’d laughed, but she’d answered his questions and been honest about her discomfort.
She wanted to tease him again and tell him women from his time were likely forced to hide for the sake of protecting the delicate sensibilities of men such as himself. But his genuine uncertainty tugged at nameless strings inside her that cooed endearingly, so she took pity on him instead.
“Turn the light off and get in,” she said, nodding to his side of the bed.
His mouth lifted, small and sweet, before he slunk the rest of the way in.
Dominic shut the door behind him and switched the light off, but Rayna had already turned the lamp on in wait of him, so the room stayed mostly illuminated.
She placed her phone on the bedside cabinet closest to her and adjusted her pillow as he climbed under the thin blanket and lay down. He stayed in the middle of his pillow rather than immediately moving onto hers but placed his hand over her own.
“Are you still in pain?” he asked.
“A little achy, but I wouldn’t call it pain, no.”
Her answer put a troubled frown on his face. “Did you take any more medication?”
“It’s not that kind of pain. It’s just muscle ache in my lower back and legs.”
He swallowed as his gaze slipped to where the blanket was bunched around her waist. “Would it help if I were to massage you?” he said after a while.
“I’ll be fine once I sleep.”
“No, that will not do.” He lifted his arm and beckoned her closer. “Come here and lie on me.”
She shook her head with a grimace. “I’ll just start sweating, and then I’ll be even more uncomfortable.”
He lowered his hand back down to the mattress, but a lightbulb soon lit up in his eyes. He tipped onto his back and grabbed something off his bedside cabinet. The distinct beep of the AC turning on, followed by the low hum of its fan, filtered through the room.
He rolled over to face her with a smile. “How about now?”
She grinned playfully. “I thought you couldn’t sleep with the AC on.”
“It will merely take me a little longer, but that is not an issue.” He grasped her elbow and wormed his other hand between her waist and the mattress. “What will keep me up, however, is knowing I did not attempt to ease your pain even the slightest.”
She went pliant as he settled on his back and tucked her against his side, pulling her half over him so that his arm curled all the way around her back.
His T-shirt was scented with fresh soap and sunshine mixed with his own warm musk.
She filled her lungs to the brim with it as she nestled against him.
When he pulled one of her bare legs further across his thighs, she found herself asking, “Aren’t you uncomfortable with the fact I’m bleeding?”
She was wearing her trusty old, cut leggings and period pants combo, so the chance of her traumatising him by leaking was next to nil. Still, she was curious to know how he felt about it, considering he hadn’t voiced the reactions his face had made throughout the day.
Dominic was quiet and still for so long that she dropped her head back into the crook of his shoulder to look up at him. His brows dipped and rose not exactly in fluster, but he didn’t seem to know what his answer was.
“You can be honest,” she teased.
“I admit,” he started with a roll of his shoulders, “it is disconcerting to think of you simply…bleeding. But it does not make me uncomfortable. Rather, after everything you have told me, I am far more concerned with how it is making you feel.”
Her smirk bloomed into a pleasantly surprised grin. She leaned up and planted a kiss on his lips. “Good answer.”
He smiled and kissed her again, a little longer, a little slower, causing a flutter to start in her chest and spread as a rush of deep satisfaction all through her.
“Where would you like me to start?” he whispered. “Your back or your legs?”
“My back, please.”
Rayna rested her cheek against his chest as he began kneading his long, broad fingers into her hips and lower back.
She hummed when he rubbed a good spot. The gorgeous, receptive man that he was, he knew himself to keep massaging the same area.
As her eyes started growing heavy with slumber, an elusive wonder of the situation blanketed her thoughts, putting a smile on her face.
“You know,” she muttered, drawing tired circles over his heart with one finger. “You’re not anything like what I’ve read and heard noblemen were like.”
She felt his lips curl against her hairline. “My darling, I can guarantee many of the noblemen I know are exactly like what you have read and heard them to be.”
“Entitled, frivolous, misogynistic, aloof, and judgemental?”
“That is an adequate summary, yes.”
“So why aren’t you like that?” She amended, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, you were an entitled prick in your quarantine room. And you’re arrogant and irritatingly high-handed sometimes. But other than that, you’re much more…open and expressive.”
“It is not so much arrogance as it is a lack of false modesty, sweetheart. Modesty is not a trait suited to a man of my position. It would make me appear weak amongst my peers, and the world of the upper crust is cruel. Weakness only ever leads to exploitation. The same way falsely boasting myself would make me a fool too. I am neither. I am merely confident in my judgement.”
She pondered over what he said as he caressed his hands down her arse to knead the back of her thighs.
“And as for what you consider to be high-handedness, you stubborn woman. I am only behaving as a man ought to. By making decisions for the benefit of those I care for, those I am responsible for, that will serve them as well as protect them. That is what it means to be a man and marquess. I lead so that others may live comfortably.”
“But shouldn’t you involve the people you’re making decisions for to know that they actually agree and want that?”
“I do not rule by autocracy, my love, but if I asked everyone’s opinion, nothing would ever be decided.
” She went to argue, but he continued, “However, I have come to realise since being here that having all decisions made for you can be rather frustrating. Especially when you are powerless to do anything else.”
She craned her neck and grinned. He granted her a lopsided smile.
“I concede that sometimes a compromise can satisfy the egos of both parties.” He narrowed his eyes. “But not in the matters you have persistently argued with me over.” She rolled her eyes, and he growled, “Do not dismiss me thus. Learn to obey me instead.”
His words held no real fervour, so she smirked sarcastically. “The only time I’ll ever ‘obey’ you is when you’re shoving your fat dick in me. That’s about it, honey.”
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she acknowledged that she’d called him “honey.” She never called anyone honey, but it just…rolled off her tongue for some reason.
He chuckled, and the way it vibrated through her sent the thought scattering. “That is a start, I suppose.”
They shared a beaming moment before Rayna lowered her chin, nuzzling her cheek against his chest. His caressing hands travelled up to her lower back again.
“What were you like as a child?” she muttered after a while.
“Oh, I was fascinated with my father,” he said, his timbre thick with reminiscent pride.
“Art and I followed him everywhere, and rather than banishing us to the nursery, our father encouraged it, much to our governess’s dismay.
The only reason Mrs Hutch managed to educate us sufficiently enough was because Mother Penny barred Father from interrupting our lessons. ”
He brushed his scratchy jaw against her hair. “But I spent many a day going to town with Father, or visiting farmers and tenants, or working alongside the stable boys. And when Art and I could not accompany him, we were usually stealing Mary and the twins from the nursery to play outside.”
“Mary’s the one who married your friend, and Patricia and Solomon are the twins, right?”
“Yes, that is correct,” he said, squeezing up the shape of her hips and back down again.
“It used to frazzle poor Mother Penny when Mrs Hutch found us, or I brought them back indoors covered in dirt. She would fuss while Father scolded us while trying not to laugh. Then when the weather suited it, Father would call for a picnic, and when it didn’t, they’d scrub us down and have dinner with us in the nursery.
There were times when we would dance in the drawing room too, while Mrs Hutch played the piano. ”
His voice grew softer. “As a young man, I was far more reluctant to participate in such frolicking, professing it wasn’t at all enjoyable while pretending Mary or Patricia were forcing me to dance. But looking back, those evenings in the drawing room were some of the best.”