Nathaniel was once so arrogant and formidable. Had she really tamed the man?
But why didn’t that make her happy at all?
By all appearances, he was already paying for everything he had done to her in the past.
Lucinda shook her sordid thoughts away and pushed the door open.
Nathaniel hastily pulled his trouser legs down, even as he burrowed back under the covers and leaned against the headboard.
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Lucinda went over and sat on the chair at his bedside. She held the bowl and stirred the soup, blowing gently at it as she did. She looked graceful and elegant, even when she was doing the most mundane things.
Nathaniel stared at her.
His tongue darted out to lick his lower lip, his eager eyes widening in anticipation as he waited for her to feed him.
Lucinda noticed the shift in his mood, but she continued to stir the soup in silence.
When she finally felt that the temperature was just right, she turned to Nathaniel and handed him the bowl and spoon.
Nathaniel blinked at her, but made no other move.
“Go on and eat it yourself,” Lucinda said coldly.
“I’m not feeding you.”
Nathaniel felt a pang of loss at her words.
He still didn’t take the bowl.
“It hurts,” he whined, his eyes turning red at the corners.
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“I don’t think I can eat by myself.”
Lucinda rolled her eyes.
“It’s your knees that are injured,” she said bluntly, “not your hands. Why can’t you eat by yourself?”
Nathaniel wasn’t about to back down just yet, though.
“But I also have a fever. I still feel dizzy, in fact.”
“Yet you speak so eloquently. I don’t think the fever is doing much to you at all. If you’re too weak to eat, then don’t.”
She stood up, the bowl of soup still in her hand, and made to turn away.
Nathaniel lunged forward and hurriedly grabbed the bowl from her. He might have to miss out on being fed by her, but he wouldn’t pass up on her soup. Lucinda had made it for him, after all.