The memory dissolved, pulling her back to the present.
Merdi stared blankly at Clifton, who had tied her shoelace so securely it looked as though it would never come undone again.
“Is that a habit of yours?”
Clifton’s gaze shifted to her, his expression questioning the sudden, nonsensical inquiry.
“Tying shoelaces.
You tied mine that day you arrived at Belloc Castle, too.”
“If your laces weren’t untied, I would have no reason to tie them.”
‘What a strange response,’ she thought.
It wasn’t an answer to her question at all.
But considering his obsessive cleanliness, she supposed she didn’t need one.
‘It must be part of his compulsion.’
Just as he couldn’t bear to touch another’s belongings with his bare hands, an untied shoelace must have been an unbearable sight.
Still, it was jarring to see a man who radiated such unyielding pride kneel so readily.
A flicker of curiosity sparked within her: would he do this for anyone with an untied shoelace?
She quickly extinguished the thought.
He would probably mock her with a dry, ‘If I ever meet someone else as clumsy as you, perhaps.’
Just as she dismissed the unpleasant image, Clifton stood.
“You require a great deal of maintenance, even as an adult.”
So much for keeping her thoughts to herself.
The criticism flew at her anyway.
It was the same one she’d heard relentlessly since her arrival.
The Grand Dame was fond of saying, like a mantra, that she would never be a proper lady.
“If the standard of a lady here is to keep one’s attire immaculate and excel at embroidery, then I will never be one,” Merdi retorted before she could stop herself.
She pouted, then shot a furtive glance at him, a belated sense of alarm kicking in.
If she had spoken to Grand Dame Margaret that way, she would have been punished with two days of fasting.
“Well, perhaps judging a lady by such standards is narrow-minded, as you say.”
His reply was entirely unexpected.
“However, the reason I say you are like a child has nothing to do with any of that.”
Merdi tilted her head.
“Then why…?”
“As I said before, you seem to have remained frozen on the day we first met.”
She didn’t quite grasp his cryptic explanation, but she was relieved that it wasn’t for the same reasons Margaret constantly berated her.
More importantly, his tone wasn’t scolding.
His eyes, as he recalled that day, were merely calm and deep.
The look on his face stirred something unsettling within her, and she hurriedly got to her feet.
Besides, she had to show him she was making an “effort.”
“I think I’ve rested enough.
Shall we take a walk?”
She hoped a walk through the beautiful scenery might lift the heavy atmosphere.
But as soon as the composed words left her mouth, her horse let out a loud, rough snort.
Startled, she stumbled backward.
A startled cry escaped her.
‘Ah!’
In a flash, Clifton’s arm shot out, his hand closing around her arm to steady her.
He hadn’t just caught her; he’d snatched her back from the edge of a fall.
The contact was firm, preventing what would have been an undignified stumble.
“Thank you…” she murmured.
Why was she so prone to mishaps whenever he was near?
As a familiar blush began to creep up her pale skin, she noticed his hand, still gripping her arm.
His large hand, with its prominent knuckles, was clamped around her forearm, yet her stomach wasn’t churning.
It wasn’t roiling with that familiar, sickening nausea.
The realization struck her with such force that her eyes widened.
‘Why don’t I feel sick?’
As her lips parted in surprise, Clifton suddenly pulled her closer.
Her nose bumped lightly against his broad chest, and she slowly tilted her head back to look up at him.
Clifton’s gaze was already on her, his eyes dark as he looked down into her own.
“So, was it all an act?”
A single corner of his mouth quirked upward in a way that was simultaneously handsome and detestable.
Merdi, whose eyes had been wide with shock, immediately scrunched her face into a scowl.
“Who fakes vomiting?”
“Then how do you explain this?” he challenged, his voice laced with amusement.
His teasing tone grated on her, but Merdi was at a loss for words.
“I don’t know… More importantly, could you just…”
Now acutely aware of his arms around her, his warmth and scent overwhelmed her senses.
Her stomach churned, but she couldn’t tell if it was another wave of nausea or something else entirely.
As Merdi writhed in his embrace, Clifton’s gaze darkened, his stare turning possessive.
Her ragged breaths brushed against his chest.
Every twist and turn to escape only pressed their bodies closer, separated by a mere layer of fabric.
Clifton’s suffocating gaze remained fixed on her, but Merdi was too consumed by the desperate need to break free to notice.
She was trapped, a growing sense of helplessness washing over her as he refused to release her.
Her lowered eyelashes trembled like the wings of a caught butterfly, a testament to her shame and embarrassment.
A film of moisture began to pool in her eyes.
“Anyone seeing us might think I was forcing myself on you.”
At the word ‘forcing’, the tears vanished from her eyes.
The color drained from her face, leaving her deathly pale.
Clifton watched the change, relentlessly still, before finally letting her go.
The abrupt separation sent Merdi stumbling, and she barely managed to catch her balance.
“Ugh…”
She clamped a hand over her mouth and scrambled to the riverbank, where she began to retch violently.
Clifton watched with an impassive gaze.
When she finally returned, she was shivering, her arms wrapped tightly around her shoulders against a sudden chill.
He let out a low, mocking laugh as she painstakingly kept her distance, terrified he might grab her arm again.
Avoiding his eyes, Merdi belatedly offered an explanation.
“I was just startled because you were so close…”
“Let’s end today’s walk here.”
With that, Clifton released his horse’s reins and swung himself into the saddle.
Merdi stumbled as she mounted her own horse.
“If you find it too difficult, you’re welcome to ride with me.”
She ignored the taunting offer, gripping her reins firmly without a word.
A crooked smile played on Clifton’s lips as he watched her.
He pulled on his reins first, setting his horse in motion.
Merdi’s horse followed close behind, keeping pace.
It wasn’t until they reached the stables that Merdi was finally free of Clifton’s presence.
And, of course, he was the only one who entered.
A pang of disappointment hit her.
On a day this draining, she knew her spirits would have been lifted by a visit to the hut to see Vincent and brush the soft wool of the sheep.
Merdi dragged her exhausted feet toward the Annex.
The long ride, combined with her earlier sickness, had left her completely spent.
But in truth, she knew her exhaustion ran deeper than that.
The image of Clifton kneeling without a hint of hesitation to tie her shoelace had dredged up the memory of their first meeting, making her heart flutter.
And for some reason, the feel of his body against hers hadn’t immediately made her sick.
The realization left her feeling like a liar, flushed with embarrassment and shame.
His body, which she had never expected to touch, had been a strange contradiction—as hard as an iron wall, yet warm like any other man’s.
His words echoed in her mind.
“Anyone seeing us might think I was forcing myself on you.” She knew it was just a turn of phrase, but her heart still plummeted at the thought.
The mere suggestion was terrifying.
Shame and tension coiled in her chest, stealing her breath.
In the moment he’d released her, the world had spun.
The memory spurred her onward, and she quickened her pace as if something were chasing her.
Her legs felt weak, each step a struggle against inertia, a desperate effort to keep from falling.
By the time the Annex, bathed in the dying light of sunset, came into view, her lungs were burning.
When she finally pushed the door open, she found Margaret standing in the entryway, as if she had been waiting.
It had been some time since they had last spoken.
Merdi faltered, remembering she had missed church that day.
She needed a moment to catch her breath.
After a few deep, calming breaths, she forced a smile.
“Hello, Grand Dame.
I heard you went out today as well.
Did you have a good tr—”
‘SLAP!’
The sharp smack echoed in the room.
Before she could finish her sentence, Merdi’s head snapped to the side.
She blinked, a stinging heat blooming across her cheek.
“Madam!” Emma cried out in shock from where she stood anxiously nearby.
Dazed, Merdi touched her reddening cheek, trying to process what had just happened.
“A letter arrived from the Melvitch family.” Margaret snapped her fan open, the sharp sound cutting through the silence.
She began to fan herself furiously, the motion stirring her disheveled hair.
“I hear this isn’t the first time you’ve run your mouth.
They say other families are sharpening their knives as well.
If you don’t properly apologize for exposing the ghost-painting affair, you will be barred from the weekend church gatherings.”
She remained silent.
“How utterly absurd,” Margaret sneered.
“That I should be forced to receive such a vulgar letter because of you.”
At her cold, clipped tone, Merdi slowly looked up.
Margaret’s face was a terrifyingly blank mask, but her eyes burned with a furious intensity, as if she could incinerate Merdi where she stood.