As Abigail stood over it, she could feel Diarmuid’s meticulous nature, thuy and that the design must have been for the sake of their children since they might fall over if the steps were too high.
“Go in and take a look,” Diarmuid said as he put an arm around her shoulder.
They opened the front doors to reveal a grand hall with a tall ceiling and two separate curved staircases on both ends—just like the castles one would see in movies.
There were up to eight Franconian servants, standing in a row and adding to the classical presence the castle carries.
“Mr.Althoff,” Pierre greeted Diarmuid.
He was the butler, a tall and slender man dressed in a fine suit, and he appeared rather advanced in age.
Diarmuid introduced Abigail.
“This is my wife.We will be staying here for a couple days.”
“Ma’am,” Pierre greeted her respectfully, while introducing the servants and what their job entailed.
“However, they would mostly stick to cleaning the building as it isn’t usually unoccupied.I’ll have them prepare your room.”
As Abigail nodded in understanding, he deftly directed the other servants to work, since he knew best what they were good at and what tasks they were best suited for.
Naturally, the castle was kept flawlessly clean despite its size.
“I shall have a bath prepared for both of you, and dinner will be ready at seven.Would that be ideal?” Pierre asked.
“Sure,” Diarmuid replied and turned to Abigail.
“Let’s go upstairs.” Abigail nodded.
Soon, it became clear that Pierre knew the castle better than Diarmuid, and he was always waiting for new orders as he brought them ona tour.
After all, Diarmuid might find something satisfying or that it needed improvement.
Most of the second floor was a guest area.
To the left was a huge rectangular room with stained glass windows, decorated with towering curtains.
Rows of single-seat couches were arranged tidily in a U-shape arrangement, with square tables separating each couch.
The simplicity and the openness made it a good place for discussion and meetings.
There were also other visitor areas, along with the dining room and recreation rooms.
The bedrooms were on the third floor, and there were six of them, each having its own separate living area, bathroom, wardrobe, balcony, and stained glass.
It was a drawback that the castle was too huge, and it was quite a trip if one needed to do anything.
In fact, Abigail was tired before they finished the tour.
“Let’s stop here for the day.”
“Of course, ma’am.Do look around the basement and the first floor when you have the time,” Pierre said before he left.
Throwing herself on a couch, Abigail rubbed her neck and looked up at Diarmuid.
“It’s huge here, but don’t you think it’s not that ideal as a house?”
Smaller places seemed to retain a family’s warmth more, and even if they had everything they needed here, it just felt a little cold.
“No.Our children need space to grow,” Diarmuid said.
There was also Mrs.Watson, Sheryl, their bodyguards, and their chauffeur—it would not feel that empty with so many people around.
With the servants as well, it would feel even more homely.
It was only natural that it seemed quiet with the two of them.
“Just take a bath and rest for the night.I might be busy tomorrow.” Diarmuid said as he took off his jacket.
Abigail took it and hung it on the hanger, and unbuttoned his shirt too.
“You can get in first.” Diarmuid lowered his eyes, looking at her fair, dainty figures as he gently grasped them.
“What?”
Abigail locked up to meet his eyes.
Diarmuid chuckled.
“You look the part of a wife right now.” Abigail beamed.
“Just because I was helping you?”
Diarmuid wrapped an arm around her thin, soft waist and explained patiently with a serious look, “No…”
“I know,” she smiled.
“I was just teasing you.” Diarmuid pinched her cheek.
“You dare to tease me now? Cheeky.”
“I can’t let you bully me all the time,” Abigail cooed.
“When did I ever bully you?” thhe asked as he leaned toward her, his eyes burning with passion and his voice deep and alluring.
“But I feel like doing it right now…May I?”
Abigail rarely took the initiative, but he was barely finished when she wrapped her arms around Diarmuid’s neck and kissed his lips. Her lips were soft and sweet, and it caught Diarmuid off guard.
Still, he soon came to his senses and responded with passion, and he carried her over to a table as they continued to swap spit.
As Abigail’s shoulder strap slipped off and revealed her fair, beautiful skin, Diarmuid’s breathing turned ragged and he suddenly paused, staring at her in confusion.
“What…”
Abigail held his gaze, but eventually gave in and burst out in laughter.
“I’m on my period.”
Diarmuid was left speechless—he knew something was wrong since she was always shy, getting passive when things began to get frisky.
Why would she suddenly behave like that? Although he took a moment to calm down, his voice was still hoarse, “Was it fun, messing with me?”
Abigail nodded repeatedly.
“Yeah.It really is.”
Annoyed but having no choice, Diarmuid straightened her close.
“You better pray your period lasts forever.”
“Fine, my bad,” she apologized right away—she really was afraid of him.
Diarmuid held her gaze then, but there was passion in his eyes despite his clear restraint.
“It’s late now.”
With those words, he turned and headed to the bathroom —he felt like he was burning and needed to cool off.
Abigail quickly went after him.
“I’ll help.” Diarmuid turned again.
He would be happy about that on any other occasion, but not today —he might kill him! “T’ll do it myself,”
he said, and closed the door in her face.
Abigail pursed her lips, feeling like she went overboard.
It was twenty minutes later when he stepped out in his gray silk pajamas.
Its shiny sheen and soft texture was certainly a sight to behold on his tall, muscular form.
Naturally, it did not hide his masculine charm, especially with his good looks.
Abigail walked over to him and tried to win points again.
“Let me blow dry your hair.”
Diarmuid stared at her for a long while, but he eventually gave in and chuckled.
“You’re forgiven, since you’re that sincere.”
Abigail wrapped her arms around his waist and cooed, ‘Thanks, darling.”
Diarmuid was naturally pleased to hear her say that, and leaned down to kiss her forehead.
“I like it when you call me that.”
Slightly embarrassed, she hid her face in his chest.
The faint fresh scent of soap swirling from his body was a delight to her nose, and she sniffed it greedily.
After her bath, Abigail put on a set of conservative pajamas when Pierre knocked on their door, saying that dinner was ready. She and Diarmuid went downstairs together to eat, and they slept soundly later.
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.
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