“Did you bring in those flowers?” he asked.
“Oh, the daffodils?” she asked brightly. “Yes, I did. I got them from the garden. I was told by the gardener that you enjoy them, and I thought they would be a good addition to the room.”
“You should not have come into my personal space like this,” he told her, shaking his head now.
Ah. So he had decided to be difficult as usual.
“I am afraid that I do not see it like that,” she countered. “This is my home, as well. Surely, it is not wrong if I decide to come in here.”
Simon narrowed his eyes at her. She could sense that he was trying hard to control his growing frustration.
“You may choose to do what you want in other rooms,” he stated. “But this one is mine.”
Rachel found herself getting frustrated, in spite of herself.
“So, you would much rather the maid came in and made changes? Instead of me?”
“It is her job to do so,” Simon barked. “You should not interfere with how things are.”
Rachel could not believe him. She had expected him to show at least some sort of gratitude; a nice word, if not athank you,would have sufficed. Even Letitia was capable of doing that.
“So tell me,” she turned to him, irked, “What exactly am I supposed to do around here? You expect me to sit around like some ornamental doll, waiting for your permission to exist, and Irefuseto do that.”
Simon’s expression darkened, his shoulders stiffening. “When it comes to intruding on my personal place, you do require permission. In fact, I shall make it easier for you. You arenotallowed.”
“So I am no longer allowed in the study, either?” she replied, “At first it was only the attic. Soon, you will disbar me from leaving my room.”
Simon rolled his eyes. “Are you done with your theatrics?”
Of course, he thinks I am overreacting.
“What I’ve done…” Rachel said slowly through gritted teeth. “I cleaned your desk, Your Grace. I brought in flowers so that you may see them as a thoughtful gesture. I was trying to please you, but apparently, that’s impossible.”
Simon thought he was going to have a calm morning, but as usual, a certain someone made it impossible. All he had asked from her was to leave him in peace and let him continue with his life as it had been before he had been roped into this marriage.
But no, she seemed to lack basic comprehension skills.
So, imagine his fury when he found her in his study—between his things—cleaning and rearranging things as if it was no issue. It irked him, and her stubborn explanations even more so.
As she stood in front of him, going on about her tirade about how she was not to be treated like an ornament, he found his mind wandering.
Such a fiery young woman.
Simon could not help but notice just how frantic her movements became when she was upset with him. Her eyes widened, and she had a noticeable flush on her cheeks.
She was passionate, that much was certain.
A wayward thought entered his mind then, and he found himself wondering just how much of that passion would be carried into the bedroom. He was curious to find out.
If he ever got the chance.
His mind was spiraling in another direction entirely, and it was getting increasingly more difficult to sanitize his thoughts.
“Are you even listening to me?”she said, walking up to him. She looked adorable with her hands settled around her hips, staring up at him like that.
“Yes. Unlike you, I do not have comprehension issues,” he replied dryly, which only seemed to set her off even more.
“You are impossible,” she sneered.
