Chapter 292: Chapter 289: Just Because You’re My Woman (2)
"Silly, give me that stick with the chicken. Go wash your face by the river. It’s been so many days, and I still have no idea what you actually look like."
He hesitated for a moment before breaking into a grin. "Okay."
He got up, went to the river, and started washing his face with cupped hands. When he returned and sat down in front of Chloe Marshall, she was utterly dumbfounded.
He had a pair of striking, almond-shaped eyes, a high-bridged nose, alluring red lips, and an exceptionally fair complexion.
It would be no exaggeration to call him bewitchingly handsome. It was just a shame that such a face belonged to a fool.
Chloe Marshall handed the chicken back to him and asked, "Why don’t you look much like your mom and dad?"
Silent, he was an ethereal beauty. The moment he spoke, he became a country bumpkin.
"Ma says I was a gift to her from the heavens, so I should look like the heavens."
Chloe Marshall was speechless. ’What kind of logic is that?’
"You’re very handsome. But... I’ve seen that your parents’ faces are always clean. Why don’t you wash yours?"
He flipped the chicken he was holding. "Ma says I look like a girl, and if people see me, they’ll take me away."
Chloe Marshall scoffed. "Getting taken away for looking like a woman? That’s the first I’ve ever heard of such a thing. Your mom is lying to you."
But he responded with complete earnestness, "Ma would never lie to me. My family is real good to me. They give me all the tasty food. It’s just... she has a bad temper and scolds me a lot. But I know she’s good to me."
"Of course she is. You’re her son, who else would she be good to? Anyway, can we eat this yet? It’s a little burnt, but it smells amazing."
He looked at it, a happy grin on his face. "It’s ready. You eat, Wife. I’m saving this one for you."
"Aren’t you eating? Besides, I can’t eat all this myself. You eat."
Chloe Marshall started gnawing on the chicken as she spoke. In less than five minutes, the small pheasant was picked clean, leaving only a pile of bones.
He just watched her with a silly grin on his face.
When he saw her toss away the last bone, he handed her the one he was holding.
"Eat."
Chloe Marshall had to admit, the man was incredibly good to her.
She tore off the two chicken legs and handed the rest to him. "You eat this. I’m full."
But he wrapped it in a paper bag and tucked it into his shirt. "Let’s head back. You can eat this later if you get hungry."
Chloe Marshall froze. The chicken in her mouth suddenly lost all its flavor. "Silly, don’t be so good to me. I have to leave you, sooner or later."
Silly froze, his expression turning serious. "You’re my wife. Nobody can be with you but me."
She stood up. "Let’s go back."
He stood and helped her up, and the two of them walked back, one step at a time.
The smoldering embers of their fire sent up thin wisps of smoke. The scattered chicken bones were the only trace they had ever been there.
As they reached the door, Silly’s Mom strode toward them. The moment she saw her son’s face, her own turned to ice. "Who told you to wash your face?!"
Silly faltered. Chloe Marshall spoke up, "I did."
Silly’s Mom narrowed her eyes. "You? What right do you have? If something happens to Silly, can you bear the responsibility?"
Chloe Marshall found this absurd. "It’s just washing a face. What could possibly happen?"
Silly’s Mom ignored her, grabbed Silly’s hand, and dragged him into her own room.
She then found some charcoal ash, smeared it back onto his face, and warned him sternly, "If you ever wash your face and reveal your true features again, you will no longer be my son!"
Silly didn’t dare make a peep. He just nodded in agreement.
Quentin Grant stood on the staircase landing, watching Nora Ainsworth rub her lower back every now and then. A pleasant ripple went through him.
"Is your back sore?"
Nora Ainsworth turned, looking thoughtful. "Yeah. For the past couple of days, I’ve woken up with aches and pains in my back."
Quentin Grant stuck one hand in his pants pocket, rubbed his nose with the other, and said with a smile, "Maybe you’re just in need of a massage."
"How did you know, Young Master?"
"Because I used to be like you, waking up tired and sore. I found a masseuse, got a few days of massages, and all the symptoms disappeared."
Nora Ainsworth looked down and continued mopping the floor. "But I can only massage myself. Where would I find a masseuse? Besides, they’re not cheap. Even a quick session costs a few hundred. I can’t afford it."
He smiled. "Considering how hard you work every day, I suppose I could deign to give it a try myself."
Nora Ainsworth was overwhelmed by the offer. "No, really! I couldn’t possibly let you massage me. Absolutely not."
"I’m already offering to lower myself, and you’re refusing?"
Nora Ainsworth was now certain he had an ulterior motive. "Young Master, have you taken a fancy to me? Or fallen in love at first sight? I can understand how you feel, but... I’m not into you. A man of your status can have any woman he wants."
He watched her for a moment, then suddenly broke into a smile. "You’re overthinking it. How could I possibly fall for you at first sight? For a disfigured woman to say something so shameless... did you forget to take your medication today?"
Nora Ainsworth flushed with embarrassment. On second thought, what he said made perfect sense. ’Why *would* someone like him fall for a disfigured maid?’
With that, she was able to let it go.
"Yes, it must be acting up. I’ll go take my medicine in a bit." ’I wish I could just dig a hole and crawl into it. This is so humiliating.’
He turned around. "When you’re done with your chores, come upstairs and give me a massage."
"Didn’t you say you were going to massage me? How did it turn into me massaging you?"
He said, "Didn’t you accuse me of deigning to make a move on you? To avoid that, it’s better if you just massage me."
She was a little embarrassed. "I’m sorry, Young Master. I completely misjudged you."
A smirk played on his lips. "It’s fine. Perfectly understandable. Women who’ve been single a long time are prone to flights of fancy."
Nora Ainsworth gave a forced laugh and continued mopping the floor.
Quentin Grant headed upstairs, feeling utterly delighted with himself.
He pushed open his door, walked a lap around the room, and then paced for more than ten minutes. When she still hadn’t appeared, he opened the door just a crack.
Half an hour later, he finally heard footsteps coming upstairs. Quentin Grant quickly sat down on the edge of his bed.
Nora Ainsworth stood at the door, came in, and said with a smile, "Young Master, I’m here."
He glanced at her, then lay face down on the bed. "Take off your shoes."
"I don’t think that’s a good idea..."
"Are you refusing to listen to me?"
She had no choice but to take off her shoes and kneel on the bed beside him.
With trembling hands, she began to massage his back.
He closed his eyes, savoring the feeling of her delicate hands moving over his back through the fabric of his shirt.
’This feeling is always so incredible.’
"Young Master, how is it? Is the pressure okay?"
"Just right."
She massaged him with all her might. She kept at it for over twenty minutes, her hands moving faster now, the pressure firm and strong.
"Now you lie down. I’ll massage you."
Nora Ainsworth lay down. The moment Quentin Grant’s hands touched her waist, he felt how stiff it was.
"Relax."
Her wariness began to subside.
And she did, in fact, relax.
’Being able to touch her so openly like this,’ Quentin Grant thought, ’is truly something special.’
Eventually, she drifted off to sleep.
