“Can you please give her some of her letters?” Viscount Arlen asked. Despite Cass being known for his intelligence, he couldn’t ignore the Viscount’s intentions. Why would the Viscount want to send a letter to her? It didn’t make sense.
“I have something to send personally. Wait a minute.” The Viscount quickly scribbled a letter on a piece of paper, probably because he didn’t have time to return to his office. As someone who knew the etiquette of aristocratic families, he assumed Cass would not read other people’s letters and hastily wrote the beginning of the letter.
Contrary to the Viscount’s assumption, Cass had no interest in aristocratic manners and grew impatient. To my dear daughter, Ilyin. Dear Ilyin? Since when? Cass looked away, perplexed. It would be impolite to read a letter addressed to the Duchess of Winter, so he turned his head away. The winter chill had already engulfed him.
Cass clicked his tongue. You won’t find peace in life or death, he thought.
* * *
Aden was drowning in a sea of paperwork, a common occurrence during the busy winter season. However, he made sure to retire to his bedroom every night, a stark contrast from the past when he would work through the night. Ilyin was the reason behind this change. Her presence had elevated his efficiency and he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her alone. Yet, there were moments when Ilyin would sneak into his office through the crack in the door. Aden’s productivity would take a hit during these impromptu visits, but he never turned her away nor did he ask her to help him with his work.
One evening, Ilyin appeared in his room, disguised as a maid, with a borrowed skirt that didn’t quite fit her. However, Aden had already spotted her from the moment she started walking down the hallway. Who else in this winter land could make such a charming gesture but Ilyin?
“Please have this,” she said, holding out a tray with a warm cup of tea.
Delrose’s maids were trained to be silent in front of their fussy master, a habit that Ilyin was yet to pick up on. Aden couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast between her incessant chatter and the maids’ silence, yet he pretended not to.
“Put it down and come here for a moment,” he said, knowing full well that it wasn’t something to say to Delrose’s servant.
Ilyin smiled and sat down next to him. She was still dressed in her maid’s attire, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Aden hadn’t recognized her yet. He seemed too engrossed in his documents to notice anything else. She straightened her clothes and took a seat on the chair.
“Do you need something from me?” she asked.
“Come closer,” Aden said.
Ilyin blinked, slightly taken aback. She rose from her chair and approached him, but kept a respectable distance between them, as was appropriate for a master and servant.
“Come a little closer,” Aden repeated.
Ilyin hesitated, unsure of what he wanted. Now the distance between them was almost intimate, and if Aden raised his head, he would be able to see her face reflected in his eyes.
“You didn’t hear me?” Aden asked.
“No,” Ilyin replied, taking another step closer.
Aden still kept his head down, holding onto the documents.
“My shoulders feel a little tight,” he said, and Ilyin realized what he wanted. He was asking her for a massage.
She tried to push the strange thought that had crept into her mind aside and focused on the task at hand. She reached out to his shoulder, her gentle hand massaging the tightness she could feel beneath the thick winter coat he wore. Aden’s well-trained body, honed from the battlefield, was evident even through the layers of clothing. But as she worked, she failed to notice the mischievous smile playing on Aden’s lips.
Aden raised his hand to stop Ilyin’s movement. “Just a moment,” he said, his eyes still fixed on the documents spread out on the desk in front of him. Ilyin wondered if she had done something wrong, but Aden simply unbuttoned his coat and handed it to her without looking up. She scanned the room for a place to hang it, and found a hook on the back of the door.
She straightened her clothes and returned to Aden’s side. She was slow for a maid, but Aden didn’t seem to mind. He suppressed a smile and spoke in a deep voice. “Again.”
Ilyin’s hand came to rest on Aden’s shoulder, and as she started to apply pressure, he let out a faint groan. “Ah,” he breathed.
“Are you in pain somewhere?” Ilyin asked, her hand freezing in place.
Aden nodded, indicating that he was okay. Ilyin’s touch became more cautious, more delicate than before. It was almost as though she was tickling his shoulder with a feather, rather than massaging it.
“Are you okay?” she asked, covering her mouth with her hand. A maid wouldn’t typically ask such a question, but Ilyin couldn’t help herself.
Aden’s response was calm. “It seems to be getting better,” he said, and Ilyin smiled in relief.
Then Aden patted his waist. “Here too,” he said, and Ilyin looked at him quizzically. Could she massage him there as well?
Aden’s eyes remained closed as Ilyin’s hand traveled higher up his waist. The sensation of her touch was spreading through his body, and the pleasure was almost overwhelming. “How is it now?” Ilyin asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Much better,” Aden replied, trying to keep his desires in check. The warmth of Ilyin’s hand against his skin was almost too much to bear.
“A little higher,” Aden murmured, his voice low and husky.
Ilyin hesitated, unsure if she had heard him correctly. As her hand moved up his waist, it brushed against the hard planes of his body, causing her cheeks to flush with heat. This was a place she had never touched before, and the intimacy of it made her heart race.
In the past, whenever she had embraced Aden, she had done so without thinking, pulling him close to her with a natural and unconscious desire. But now, as she touched him with a clear mind, the act took on a different kind of meaning.
“Can you please give her some of her letters?” Viscount Arlen asked. Despite Cass being known for his intelligence, he couldn’t ignore the Viscount’s intentions. Why would the Viscount want to send a letter to her? It didn’t make sense.
“I have something to send personally. Wait a minute.” The Viscount quickly scribbled a letter on a piece of paper, probably because he didn’t have time to return to his office. As someone who knew the etiquette of aristocratic families, he assumed Cass would not read other people’s letters and hastily wrote the beginning of the letter.
Contrary to the Viscount’s assumption, Cass had no interest in aristocratic manners and grew impatient. To my dear daughter, Ilyin. Dear Ilyin? Since when? Cass looked away, perplexed. It would be impolite to read a letter addressed to the Duchess of Winter, so he turned his head away. The winter chill had already engulfed him.
Cass clicked his tongue. You won’t find peace in life or death, he thought.
* * *
Aden was drowning in a sea of paperwork, a common occurrence during the busy winter season. However, he made sure to retire to his bedroom every night, a stark contrast from the past when he would work through the night. Ilyin was the reason behind this change. Her presence had elevated his efficiency and he couldn’t bear the thought of leaving her alone. Yet, there were moments when Ilyin would sneak into his office through the crack in the door. Aden’s productivity would take a hit during these impromptu visits, but he never turned her away nor did he ask her to help him with his work.
One evening, Ilyin appeared in his room, disguised as a maid, with a borrowed skirt that didn’t quite fit her. However, Aden had already spotted her from the moment she started walking down the hallway. Who else in this winter land could make such a charming gesture but Ilyin?
“Please have this,” she said, holding out a tray with a warm cup of tea.
Delrose’s maids were trained to be silent in front of their fussy master, a habit that Ilyin was yet to pick up on. Aden couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast between her incessant chatter and the maids’ silence, yet he pretended not to.
“Put it down and come here for a moment,” he said, knowing full well that it wasn’t something to say to Delrose’s servant.
Ilyin smiled and sat down next to him. She was still dressed in her maid’s attire, and she couldn’t help but wonder if Aden hadn’t recognized her yet. He seemed too engrossed in his documents to notice anything else. She straightened her clothes and took a seat on the chair.
“Do you need something from me?” she asked.
“Come closer,” Aden said.
Ilyin blinked, slightly taken aback. She rose from her chair and approached him, but kept a respectable distance between them, as was appropriate for a master and servant.
“Come a little closer,” Aden repeated.
Ilyin hesitated, unsure of what he wanted. Now the distance between them was almost intimate, and if Aden raised his head, he would be able to see her face reflected in his eyes.
“You didn’t hear me?” Aden asked.
“No,” Ilyin replied, taking another step closer.
Aden still kept his head down, holding onto the documents.
“My shoulders feel a little tight,” he said, and Ilyin realized what he wanted. He was asking her for a massage.
She tried to push the strange thought that had crept into her mind aside and focused on the task at hand. She reached out to his shoulder, her gentle hand massaging the tightness she could feel beneath the thick winter coat he wore. Aden’s well-trained body, honed from the battlefield, was evident even through the layers of clothing. But as she worked, she failed to notice the mischievous smile playing on Aden’s lips.
Aden raised his hand to stop Ilyin’s movement. “Just a moment,” he said, his eyes still fixed on the documents spread out on the desk in front of him. Ilyin wondered if she had done something wrong, but Aden simply unbuttoned his coat and handed it to her without looking up. She scanned the room for a place to hang it, and found a hook on the back of the door.
She straightened her clothes and returned to Aden’s side. She was slow for a maid, but Aden didn’t seem to mind. He suppressed a smile and spoke in a deep voice. “Again.”
Ilyin’s hand came to rest on Aden’s shoulder, and as she started to apply pressure, he let out a faint groan. “Ah,” he breathed.
“Are you in pain somewhere?” Ilyin asked, her hand freezing in place.
Aden nodded, indicating that he was okay. Ilyin’s touch became more cautious, more delicate than before. It was almost as though she was tickling his shoulder with a feather, rather than massaging it.
“Are you okay?” she asked, covering her mouth with her hand. A maid wouldn’t typically ask such a question, but Ilyin couldn’t help herself.
Aden’s response was calm. “It seems to be getting better,” he said, and Ilyin smiled in relief.
Then Aden patted his waist. “Here too,” he said, and Ilyin looked at him quizzically. Could she massage him there as well?
Aden’s eyes remained closed as Ilyin’s hand traveled higher up his waist. The sensation of her touch was spreading through his body, and the pleasure was almost overwhelming. “How is it now?” Ilyin asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Much better,” Aden replied, trying to keep his desires in check. The warmth of Ilyin’s hand against his skin was almost too much to bear.
“A little higher,” Aden murmured, his voice low and husky.
Ilyin hesitated, unsure if she had heard him correctly. As her hand moved up his waist, it brushed against the hard planes of his body, causing her cheeks to flush with heat. This was a place she had never touched before, and the intimacy of it made her heart race.
In the past, whenever she had embraced Aden, she had done so without thinking, pulling him close to her with a natural and unconscious desire. But now, as she touched him with a clear mind, the act took on a different kind of meaning.
