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"Sure, we can go as friends," I reply, feeling a blush creep across my cheeks. As soon as the word leaves my lips, however, a sudden unease washes over me. For some reason, I feel like I’m betraying my mystery man, and the thought of betraying him makes my stomach churn with guilt.
"Great, I'll pick you up after your shift," Edward responds, his voice full of excitement. And with one last charming grin, he walks away, leaving me to ponder the complicated web of emotions that has become my life.
As I continue folding linens, my thoughts are consumed by the mysterious man who has been reaching out to me. Who could he be? Is he watching me now? The idea sends a thrill of excitement through me, mixed with a touch of fear.
"Jane Pinkerton," comes a voice over the intercom system, startling me out of my reverie. "Please report to the head housekeeper's office."
I hurry to the office, wondering what could possibly be the reason behind the summons. As I enter, the head housekeeper hands me a note.
"Your shift has been canceled," she informs me. "You've been granted a day off."
"Really?" I ask, puzzled. "Do you know who arranged this?"
"It was done anonymously," she replies, giving me a curious look before dismissing me.
As I exit the office, I can't help but feel grateful for the unexpected day off. It's a welcome reprieve from my guilt about going out with Edward tonight. And then it hits me—what if it was the mysterious man who arranged this? He’s definitely someone with power in the castle, though I have yet to determine his position.
I return to the employee quarters, and sure enough, there's another note waiting for me on my bed. The handwriting matches that of my secret admirer.
"Meet me in the castle gardens at noon," the note reads, my heart pounding with anticipation. Could it finally be time to discover the name of the man who has captured my thoughts and desires? I can hardly wait.
My mind races with possibilities, adrenaline coursing through my veins as I prepare for the meeting.
As the hours tick by, my excitement grows, and my desire for the truth threatens to consume me.
Finally, maybe I’ll have some answers.
The sun casts a warm glow over the castle gardens as I nervously smooth my dress, anticipation causing a flutter in my chest. My heart races with each step, knowing that soon I'll be face-to-face with the mysterious man who has consumed my thoughts, and that this time I will demand to know his name.
"Jane," a deep voice calls out from behind me. I turn to see a tall figure, his features obscured by shadows. He steps into the light, and my breath catches at the sight of him—broad shoulders, chiseled jaw, and piercing blue eyes.
"Who are you?" I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.
"Call me Henry," he replies, offering his hand.
“Henry,” I repeat. Is it my imagination or do his pupils dilate, his nostrils flare, as I speak it?
I take his hand with a blush, feeling a jolt of electricity course through me as our fingers touch.
We stroll through the garden, laughter and conversation flowing easily between us. With every shared smile and intimate glance, my attraction to him intensifies.
As we pause by a secluded fountain, Henry brushes a stray lock of hair behind my ear. His touch sends shivers down my spine, and an overwhelming desire to be close to him takes hold. "Jane, I can't deny my feelings for you any longer," he confesses, his voice thick with emotion.
"This is crazy. We barely know each other, but I feel it too," I admit, heat rising to my cheeks.
He brushes his fingers across my cheeks, our eyes locked on one another’s, and I swear I’ve never felt such a connection with another human being in all my life.
And then our lips meet in a searing, passionate kiss, my body pressed against his as if drawn by a magnetic force.
But even as we share this heated moment, Henry's expression darkens. He pulls away, a tormented look in his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I ask softly. “I’m sorry. I might not have been any good at it,” I whispers as I flush fiercely with embarrassment. “I’ve never done it before.”
Henry lets out a strangled noise as his hands grip my hips tightly. “Fucking hell, sweet girl. Do not admit such things to me.”
My brow furrows in confusion. “What?”
“The thought that you are truly that innocent, that I was your first kiss…” He groans as if he is in pain. “Do you have any idea what that does to me?”
