Page 77 of Hawthorne

I wish I could…

“Have you eaten today?” I ask, trying not to let these fatidic thoughts take over my mood.

“Not yet. The fact that the manor was empty distracted me.”

“Good thing you prepared some food, then,” I smirk, looking at the contents inside the basket.

At the top, there are two containers with different kinds of sliced fruits. I open them, as well as the one containing the cheese and salami, and spread the containers on the blanket.

When I am about to take the container with the bread out of the basket, Camilla’s upper body lunges towards it, snatching the bread off my hand.

“I’ll prepare everything, Your Grace.”

I snatch the bread back and look at her pointedly.

“Little Milla, I am a duke, but I am not invalid. You’re here to spend time with me, not serve me.”

Camilla gulps but nods, and I take it as a sign to prepare the food, making both of us sandwiches. She tells me which ingredients to add, and I oblige before making one for myself.

“Thank you,” she mumbles shyly.

Instead of taking a bite, just like I did, she picks at the bread, eating extremely slowly while awkwardly looking around.

I’d like to think it’s because she’s distracted by the beauty surrounding us, but it feels like she’s still not completely comfortable in my presence. I need to work on this.

Noticing her expression, I see her symmetrical eyebrows furrow, creating a small crease between them. Looking in the same direction as her, I see the bread in her hand. Then she sighs.

What’s going on in that head of hers?

“What’s on your mind?”

“Oh,” she startles. “Nothing, Your Gra-”

“Fucking Hell, Camilla,” I exclaim, frustrated, cutting her off. “Call me Vincent. It’s just the two of us.”

I understand the hesitancy. The uncomfortableness. But fucking hell, I’ve been inside of her plenty. I’ve done things to her that warrant a bit more trust between us. I don’t fucking want her to be hesitant or fearful around me.

“I'm sorry. It’s just that—” she cuts herself off. “Never mind.”

Dragging my arse closer to her without waking Primrose, I grip her chin and force her to look at me.

“How many times will I have to tell you not to be afraid to call me by my first name when we’re alone? Or to not be afraid to talk to me as you wish? I amnota bogeyman.”

“It feels like you are...sometimes,” she mumbles, and I fake an offended gasp.

It’s only when she widens her shy smile that I speak again, “I know I have a…temper, but I’d never intentionally harm you or do something to hinder your life.”

“I know.” At least she sounds genuine. “But this is complicated. It’s supposed to be no strings, but that’s just...”

“Impossible?” I finish for her in a questioning tone.Tell me about it.“I know.”

Back to avoiding my gaze.

Ugh, this is so frustrating.

“I’m sorry,” I confess. “I know I’m the one completely at fault for being unable to keep my distance. I really can’t. I have been drawn to you ever since we were kids. The only thing that has helped has been the distance, and we don’t have that anymore.” When the silence stretches, I add, “I want to spend time with you. I want to get to know you.”

A dark crimson shade covers her cheeks. It makes her shiny eyes stand out, finally looking at me unwavering. My heart skyrockets in response, in a way it only does with her.

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