Chapter 92: Need
As she moved toward the bed, the door creaked open, and Lyle stepped inside. He was dressed simply in a white shirt and pants, his presence as composed as ever. Behind him, a maid pushed in a serving cart laden with food and a steaming teapot. The maid bowed silently before retreating, leaving the two of them alone.
Lyle’s gaze swept over her, his lips quirking in approval at the sight of her in his clothes.
"You must be hungry," he remarked, retrieving the tray and setting it on the bedside table. "I asked the maids to prepare something for you."
Eira crossed her arms and shot him a glare. "I’m sure that’s not all you asked them to do. Apparently, they can’t tell the difference between a dress and pajamas."
"They suit you," he replied calmly, ignoring her irritation as he handed her a glass of water.
Eira took it with a huff, sipping cautiously. "You’re impossible, you know that?"
Lyle simply nodded, sitting down beside her. "It’s better this way. If you wear my clothes, you’ll smell of me."
She let out a tired sigh, too drained to argue, and sank onto the bed. His gaze lingered on her, full of a tenderness that made her squirm. She looked away, clearing her throat. She could never quite get used to this side of him.
"Do you want to eat here or at the table?" he asked, motioning to the small table by the window. His voice was softer than usual, almost gentle.
"The bed’s fine," she muttered, exhaustion pulling at her. Moving seemed like too much effort.
Lyle nodded, retrieving the tray and setting it carefully on her lap. The aroma of warm soup and freshly baked bread wafted up, making her stomach growl.