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Chapter 28
Declan
Shewassobeautiful that it hurt to stare at her. Her full lips parted like an invitation. Her chest heaved as she took short breaths. Theadora didn’t know the effect she had on men, which only added to her attraction.
I’d never been jealous before but seeing that man standing close while chatting with her made my veins tighten.
All this emotion confused me.
I wouldn’t have been so raw had it not been for an earlier encounter with that pompous prick, Reynard Crisp.
Wearing his signature arrogant smirk, he’d made the comment, “You should ask your staff to wear more clothes.”
“They’re not my staff. That’s my mother’s jurisdiction.”
“You’re a Lovechilde, and one day this will all be yours. I’m sure you carry some clout around here.”
“Why are you here again?” I hated this man.
“I’ve got some business to discuss with Caroline. I was talking about your maid: the pretty, curvy one. I saw her playing piano earlier. She wasn’t wearing much. Not even a bra, from where I stood.” His eyebrow rose. “Quite a show. I’ve seen her before, by the way.”
My mind was too scattered to question him further. Instead, I drew on my army training by remaining hard-faced towards the enemy.
“You’re interested in her yourself, are you?” His smirk made him uglier.
“None of your fucking business.” I shoved my shoulder into his as I walked away with my hands in a fist.
Theadora had to remain my dirty secret. Even if that was becoming increasingly frustrating.
I wanted us to walk on the pier, hand in hand. Or dine together in the village. Or to keep her warm by holding her for that walk along the cliffs.
I just wanted us to be together. And that was after just one week?
I kept telling myself it was nothing but lust.
Intense, addictive lust.
I couldn’t just jump in feet first until my dick went down. Until that happened, I was not in a fit state to make any commitment.
As we drove off, Theadora said, “That was Justin. He’s taking the same course as me.”
“Did he ask you out?”
She turned sharply and stared at me.
“What’s that look?” I asked.
“Does it matter if he did?”
I drove up the hill and round the corner to Winchelsea Lane and pulled up at my home.
The answer remained stuck at the back of my throat.
I remained silent while we walked to the door.
Of course, it fucking matters.
No one was to touch her. No one.
