Destined for Vengeance ✔️

Chapter 35

Jade was back at the castle. She wasn't sure she had what it took to return, but at least she had no official business there this time. Aaron just wanted to show her around, and she hadn't had the heart to refuse him.

He was explaining all kinds of things to her as they roamed about – be it background on the construction of the castle, or who the people in the paintings were, or who had designed the sculptures in the garden. She wondered if this was what history classes would have been like, had she ever had any.

Perhaps if he had not been the one to teach her, she might have retained the information, but it was impossible to focus on anything else while he was near her. She would focus for a few seconds on what he wanted her to look at, but invariably her gaze was drawn back to his face. He was flawless, and she hated it. Those high cheekbones, that dark hair, perfect teeth – and then she hadn't even started about his broad shoulders, or the muscles hiding underneath that fancy jacket of his. How was she supposed to compete with that?

"You are not listening, are you?" Aaron's hand settled on her lower back, setting fire to her body.

They were walking through the dining room. A long table graced the middle of the room, with dozens of cushioned chairs standing around it. Behind one of the heads of the table, high up on the wall, was a particularly impressive painting of a family – a man, woman, and two children, all regally posing.

"I apologise."

"If art does not interest you, you should tell me. Then I will cease to go on and on about it."

Him rambling on about his interests was adorable and mesmerizing, and even if she had hated art, she would never have told him to stop.

"I do like art. That's why I was looking at you."

His gaze snapped towards her, lips parting, then closing. A slow smile spread over his lips. "You are calling me a work of art?"

"Well, let's see. These paintings are explosions of colour, and to be frank, so are you." She reached out and plucked at his jacket, which was a vibrant purple. Since meeting him, he had only worn colourful jackets – bright red, a mix of blue and green, stunning orange.

He caught her hand before she could pull away, flattening it against his chest and keeping it there, right above his heart. "Is that right?"

"Yes. Quite so. And all the people in these paintings are looking rather arrogant, which, I have to say, you're pretty good at."

"That so!" He snorted a laugh – a very unprincely sound – and his free hand snaked around her, pulling her closer towards him.

Her breath caught, her voice unintentionally hoarse as she continued. "Yes, because you know exactly how handsome you are. O! And they never have a hair out of line, just like you." She reached up and ran her fingers through his hair, drawing the meticulously combed strands in every direction.

"Excuse you!" His laughter fluttered through the room and her stomach fluttered with it. His other arm slipped around her as well, linking behind her back and capturing her in his hold.

"Seriously though," she said, "would it kill you to relax?" She undid the top button of his jacket, running her hands up to his collar and smoothing it out. "I don't think I want to know how much time you spend getting ready every morning."

"There are certain expectations I have to meet." He retrieved one of his hands and moved it through his hair, trying to force it back into submission. It wouldn't quite obey him. She caught his hand, lacing her fingers through his.

"Is using a deadly amount of soap one of those expectations? Because you still haven't eased up on it."

He chuckled and lowered his head to the crook of her neck.