Page 14 of Caged in Desire
I can’t help the sarcasm that laces my tone. “I know, right? How peculiar is it that a girl locked away her entire life, born and raised for the sole purpose of a contract marriage, didn’t have sexual partners coming out of the woodwork?”
Potts rolls her eyes. “I know that, dear. I just assumed you and Hen…you and Mr. Sinclair…well, you’ve been married for a couple of weeks now and…”
“And what? And you assumed we were making sweet, sweet love every night? You know as well as I do that we sleep in separate rooms. Not that he’s been home long enough to say hello, much less have sex.”
“Hmm…” she says, thinking hard about something as she chews and swallows a bite. “Do you want to? Have sex, I mean? With Mr. Sinclair?”
“Do I want to have sex with Henry? My six-foot-six-inch Greek god of a husband? Yes. I think I would like that very much.” I give a half smile and elbow her, trying to lighten the mood. “Especially if it’s half as good as this cheesecake.”
My joke hits its mark, both of us cackling like hyenas as we finish our desserts. As soon as our plates are clean, she puts them in the sink, then props herself on her elbows, leaning on the island directly across from where I’m still sitting. “So, do you have a plan of action to accomplish your mission?”
When all I give her is a raised brow, she continues. “To seduce Mr. Sinclair into your bed?”
I mirror her position, resting my elbows on the counter for support. “I’m not sure he sees me as much more than a girl taking up space in his home, to be honest.”
Potts smirks, and I can already tell she’s up to no good in that head of hers. “I don't think that's true at all, but I happen to have known Mr. Sinclair most of his life. Maybe I can help you understand him a bit more, dear.”
Suddenly, I realize that out of all the things we’ve chatted about over the past week, Henry has never been a topic of conversation.
“You certainly know much more about him than I do. What was he like as a child?” I ask, hoping that she’ll be as helpful with Henry 101 as she has been with learning about the estate.
Laughing, she grabs a chilled carafe of juice and moves toward the solarium. “Come on, dear. This is a conversation for which we need to be more comfortable.”
Three hours later, we’ve had a light lunch, and I’ve laughed harder than I can ever remember. Although it seems my husband was a serious child, it sounds like he was a darling, too.
“And then he told Jack that he was a rapscallion! Can you imagine? He was only ten!” Potts says as she wipes her eyes from laughing so hard she cried.
“But you know, he was only with the other children for a relatively short time before he went away to school, and even when he was here, well…” Potts sighs. “When he was here, he was just older enough than the other boys that he wasn’t really playing at their level, and with all of his father’s business lessons, he was pretty isolated.”
She looks out the window, deep in thought.
“I think he felt so much responsibility from an early age—to his father, his siblings, and the company. He knew it would all fall to him one day, and he was desperate to get everything perfect. His routine really started to take shape and become an integral part of his life at that time. I think it was his way of keeping control and not losing track of things. You’ll see more of ‘the routine’ soon, as he spends more time here with you,” she says, emphasizing with air quotes and another of her signature pointed looks.
“It sounds as if my husband and I may be able to bond over abnormal childhoods, if nothing else,” I reply with a self-deprecating laugh. I’m wondering if I’ll be able to fit myself into Henry’s sacred routine at all when Potts surprises me with a belly laugh. I give her a questioning look as she waves an apology and tries to stifle her laughter.
“I’m sorry, dear. It’s just that I don’t think you understand what a match the two of you are. You’ll ingratiate yourself herejust fine, or I’ll eat my hat,” she says, giving me a beaming smile. “I’ve seen you do your daily crossword, for example, and Henry completes one every evening. I can’t wait for him to see how fast you can finish. It’s going to be delicious.”
Her smile turns devious, and I’m a little scared at what she has up her sleeve.
“You know, his guilty pleasure as a child used to be a luxurious bubble bath. I know it’s hard to imagine, and only his custom tubs are big enough to comfortably fit him these days, but he used to love to unwind with oils and bubbles. When we went to England and he hit his growth spurt, I think he grew out of the habit, but perhaps…”
I’m not exactly following. “Perhaps…?”
“I thought you were meant to have seduction lessons, my dear,” she teases. “What on earth did that woman teach you?”
“Red latex…” I mumble as she continues.
“In any case, I’m saying that perhaps when Mr. Sinclair has had a particularly bad day or rough week, you might draw him a bath. He’s not really one for touch, or I would suggest a head massage or neck rub…”
Cocking my head, I interrupt her. “I’ve touched him.”
“You’ve what, dear?”
“I’ve touched him, Potts. He’s touched me as well. Not for very long, or anywhere…private,” I say, blushing but powering through. “But we have touched.”
Mrs. Potts gives me an appraising look and a soft smile. “I don’t think you have anything to worry about, darling. I think everything will be just fine.”
Hearing an alarm chime, I realize it’s around time for her to start dinner, and I have a video call with Sasha soon to catch up. We part ways, and as I head to my quarters, I hear her call out behind me.
