Chapter 118 - Hundred And Eighteen
Eric’s voice, a soft and happy murmur, broke Delia from her reverie. "You are eating more than you did before," he said, flashing her a warm, encouraging smile. "I’m happy to see that."
Delia looked down at her plate in surprise. He was right. She had eaten more than half of the generous portion he had served her, and she didn’t feel the familiar, sickening urge to throw it all up. A small, genuine smile touched her own lips. "I think so," she agreed.
They finished their meal in a comfortable silence. As had become his habit, Eric finished the small amount of food she had left on her plate, a simple, domestic gesture that felt more intimate than any grand declaration.
When they were done, they walked up the grand staircase together. He stopped in front of her door and pulled her into a soft, brief hug. "Goodnight, Delia," he whispered into her hair.
Delia found herself holding him close for a moment, enjoying the feeling of his strong arms around her. They broke the hug, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss on her forehead. "Dream of me," he said, his voice a low, teasing command. "Only me."
Delia smiled and nodded, a pleasant warmth spreading through her chest. She opened her door and entered her room.
Eric stood in the hallway for a long moment, simply watching her closed door, until he saw the soft light from under it extinguish. He then smiled to himself and went to his own room.
Inside, Delia couldn’t sleep. She tossed and turned in the large, comfortable bed, the soft linen sheets feeling like sandpaper against her suddenly sensitive skin. Her body was burning with a strange, unfamiliar energy, and she ached for his touch in a way that was both terrifying and thrilling. The memory of their time in the carriage, of his hands on her skin and his lips on hers, played over and over in her mind.
Frustrated, she got out of bed and went into her bathing area, hoping to immerse herself in a cold bath to shock the strange heat from her system. But as she sat in the cool water, the remedy seemed to make things worse. The heat rising from her own warm skin seemed to form his shape in the air before her. She closed her eyes and could almost feel his hands on her, his breath on her neck.
She got out of the tub, her plan a complete failure. She dried herself, wore her simple nightgown and robe, and found herself standing in front of her bedroom door. She knew what she wanted. What she needed. And for the first time in her life, she was not going to run away from it.