Besides, it was Simon who wanted distance between them to begin with. She would give him that.
From tomorrow onwards, she would fill her days with other activities that distracted her from the feeling of wanting to be near him.
There was an estate to manage and duties to learn. If her marriage was little more than an arrangement, then so be it. She would rise to the role of duchess, if not for Simon, then for herself and for Marina.
Marina!
It was a sobering thought to be reminded of her sister. Her future was dependent on Rachel and the success of her marriage. If Simon wanted her to stay out of his life, she would. But she would make herself indispensable in every other way. She would learn the estate, its staff, and its tenants. She would prove herself capable and therefore, important.
So that one day, when Marina was to marry, she would have no trouble finding a suitable match for herself because her older sister would be well-connected and respected as a duchess.
Yes, that was what was for the best. But then another feeling rose inside her, and it was a much less pleasant one—one that resembled the feeling of rejection.
He had told her without mincing his words that their marriage was the only one that was held together by various rules. He had no interest in falling in love with her or even giving her an heir.
That had stung.
And that, to make matters worse, he had contradicted himself by kissing her.
Surely, that had not been the kiss of someone who wished to have nothing to do with her. But it would be foolish for her to hope for something more.
Her fingers fisted in the sheets, a mix of frustration and confusion curling in her belly. What was she supposed to do with these thoughts? What was she supposed to do with this yearning she hadn’t asked for?
It was entirely new territory for her. Rachel had never really allowed herself to want attention from anyone else, especially a man.
But the kiss had her second-guessing all that she had known. Was it possible to start wanting more for herself?
“It is better to sleep,” she told herself, letting out a shaky breath. There was little use in engaging in such fantasy. Women like her should be glad for what they have, not want more for themselves.
After tossing and turning in her bed, sleep finally came to her. But it provided no relief from the turmoil that was brewing in her mind.
Rachel was back in her father’s home. She walked down the long hallway. The walls were still occupied by the faces and portraits of her father’s side of the family—people to whom she was related by blood but shared no other similarity.
The hallway brought about the same feeling of not belonging as it had always done for her. But the sound of footsteps behind her alerted her to the fact that she was not alone here.
“Simon?” His name left her mouth without warning, before she even knew who it was. But her suspicion was confirmed when she spotted him standing there at the far edge of the corridor.
He met her gaze and gestured for her to come closer. Rachel could do little else but comply.
“What are you doing here?” she called out to him, but it appeared that her words did not reach him. Or that he simply ignored them, perhaps. Whatever it was, she kept walking towards him.
But somehow, the more steps she took towards him, the further away he seemed to be.
“Are you running away from me?” she asked him, finally. There was a hint of frustration in her voice now.
“Not at all,” came his reply. “Maybe the distance is too large.”
“But…” she said, feeling as though the words were lodged in her throat and refusing to come out properly. “But why did you call out to me then?”
“Keep walking.”
So, she did. It seemed as though she had been walking for miles by the time she finally reached him.
He greeted her with a smile.
“You should not be here,” he said to her.
“Neither should you,” Rachel was blushing now.
