Page 30 of Obsessed Heir

What would it be like to tear away that layer of false propriety she hides behind? I suspect I’d find something darker, more dangerously sensual lurking underneath that prim facade.

I give an inward shake, turning my attention away from that tempting path. There’s no point torturing myself with fantasies about full breasts pushed up in purple corsets, no matter how alluring the mental images may be.

Now I’m getting fucking annoyed. I’m standing here wondering what Abigail would look like wrapped in the luxurious bits of silk and lace.

Chapter Eleven

Abigail

Mr. McClelland has arranged for dinner to be served in the suite’s living area to accommodate Mrs. McClelland.

I tighten my grip on my phone as I read James’s message. Miss Opal didn’t want to cause more of a fuss. She’d suggested a quick dinner in the dining room then returning to the suite.

This change of plan is complicating things for me. How am I supposed to avoid Barron if we’re having dinner in the suite? The thought of spending an entire meal under his scrutinizing gaze, dodging his thinly veiled insults, makes me feel queasy.

Ever since that horrible confrontation with him earlier, I’ve been hiding…er, staying in my room.

“Is everything all right, dear?” Miss Opal’s gentle voice pulls me from my anxious thoughts.

I glance up to find her watching me, concern etched across her delicate features. Her hand freezes in midair with the lipstickshe’d been applying. The mirror lies in her lap, forgotten, as she studies me.

“You look like you were a million miles away,” she presses when I don’t respond readily.

“Nothing to worry about, I promise,” I insist, pasting on what I hope is a reassuring smile. I wince inwardly. I should have been more careful to mask my emotions when she’s around.

“I just got a little distracted by this message, that’s all.”

It’s not quite a lie. The text definitely distracted me, and I will deal with the consequences in the next few hours.

Miss Opal’s wizened eyes narrow almost imperceptibly. It’s as if she somehow senses the half-truth in a way only a mother can.

A pang of guilt goes through me because I’m being less than honest with her. But I can’t bring myself to tell her what happened with Barron.

“If you’re sure,” she murmurs, concern lingering in her eyes. “So what was this distracting message about? Should I be worried as well?”

“It’s from James,” I clarify, tapping my phone screen to keep my nervous fingers occupied. “Your son arranged to have dinner brought up so you don’t have to go to the dining area.”

Her concern evaporates, her features brightening with a radiant smile. “Barron.” She beams with a mother’s pride. “He’s so thoughtful.”

Thoughtful isn’t quite the description I would have used to describe him. Regardless, I return her smile with as much sincerity as I can muster.

“Let me put those away for you,” I offer, holding my hand out for her makeup.

She passes the items over then hesitates as a new thought occurs to her.

“Oh, do you have your makeup bag with you?” she asks, sitting forward in bed.

“No.” I left it all behind, having unpacked my backpack once we arrived at the hotel yesterday.

“Surely the ship must have a place to purchase some basic necessities on board.”

“I’m fine going without,” I assure her, shaking my head automatically. Then inspiration hits. “I think I’ll just stay in tonight, if that’s okay with you.”

“Oh, Abby.” Her smile falters, sending another wave of guilt over me for ruining her happiness.

A distant rumble of thunder offers some unexpected inspiration.

“The ship’s moving a little too much for me.” I swallow hard. “I’m afraid I wouldn’t be very good company, and I don’t want to ruin your first day with your son.”

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