RONAN

I've never been one to feel ashamed about my past, but Hazel has a way of bringing me close.

I shouldn't feel this way. When I was single, loneliness and frustration gnawed at me. Sleeping with women I barely knew was the only way to feel human. To feel like a man capable of building, not a monster that destroyed everything he touched.

But I have given up those women for Hazel. I turned my back on those faceless, forgettable women. Hazel is the only one that I allowed into my heart. The only woman I fucked without a condom separating us. The only womb I've flooded.

And now we're having such a petty argument. I nearly lost her when she was kidnapped. This is not how I want to celebrate getting her back in my arms.

I groan and set my forehead against the door that she just walked through. My legs are tense, eager to run after her. But I've learned Hazel doesn't like to feel cornered.

I'll simply have to let her cool down and make it up to her. This nursery battle is not one I'm interested in fighting. I've got more important things to do. More surfaces to fuck Hazel on.

If she were any other servant, I would have punished her for arguing and walking away from me, but she is my queen. She wrapped me around her little finger—hoodie and all—and she can re-arrange the estate upside-down if she fucking wants to.

Our bickering reminds me that we have many battles ahead—big and small. And I can't let my temperament drive her away.

It feels dangerous, letting a woman have power over me. But it's also exhilarating.

"Now..." I mutter, looking around the room. "How do I woo my queen?"

I've never been much of a romantic. I'm going to need help on this mission. A feminine touch. Perhaps her mother can help me, although I'm sure the woman will be frightened to hell if I sit across from her with a hoodie over my head.

I straighten my clothes and head out, looking for Hazel on my way down the hall. I skim a finger down the wallpaper, but don't find a single speck of dust. This estate is a magnificent, spotless beast. It's strange how I lost sight of that once Hazel entered my life. She stole my attention, distracting me from the wealth that surrounds me. She's the most priceless collection in this estate.

I search for Janice in her office and find her fixing her bun of straight, grey hair. She shoots up from her desk, surprised to see me here.

"My Lord, I was just about to search for you."

"Why is that?"

"I just received a telegram from Lord Walker."

I groan. What the fuck does Walker want now?

I accept the telegram, unwrapping the pale sheet of paper and quickly reading the few lines printed on it.

Need to talk in person.

Found the spy in my estate.

Need you to transfer one of your maids under my jurisdiction: Gwen.

What's his fucking obsession with this maid?

Although we've done a few servant swaps in the past, it was always male guards that haven't set their roots. We have never swapped a female, especially one with such low rank. Hazel's roommate should not perk his interest. She should not be on his radar.

"Fucking Walker," I grit as I crush the telegram and drop it in the garbage.

"Send a reply. Tell him to come see me as soon as he can. I cannot travel and leave Hazel alone."

"Yes, my Lord."

I shake off my frustration and inhale deeply. "I need to speak with Hazel's mother. Where is she?"

"She's in church at this time, Lord. Would you like me to summon her?"

"No need to interrupt her. That's all. Thank you."

I'll have to figure out the romance on my own. Goddamn it. I wish she would just let me eat her out and write my apologies tongue-first on her pretty pussy.

I walk down the halls to clear my head, crossing over to a populated wing of the estate that's crawling with servants. As I walk past, they form a line and bow their heads, not daring to glance up at me.

I end up walking to Hazel's old room and I'm flooded with the memory of lurking outside the door at night, fighting my temptation to break it down and snatch her.

We've come a long way, but my desire for her hasn't become any more civil. I'm a fucking animal for those soft brown eyes and softer lips.

The room is small. There are two beds inside, but only one seems occupied. Hazel's bed has no pillow, only white linens.

There's a box beside her bed. I kneel and open it. There's random odds and ends here—hair accessories, pens, two books, coins, stickers and markers.

I open the book that's bulging with sticky notes. I recognize Hazel's handwriting instantly. She anotates the story, highlighting her favorite parts.

It's a romance book.

I find a quote and memorize it before returning the book to where I found it.

The door clicks open, and I see a flutter of skirts before hearing a gasp.

"Gwen," I acknowledge without meeting her eyes.

I rise to my full height, hesitating as the girl trembles. She's terrified, and my size doesn't help me look harmless.

"M—my Lord."

"I did not mean to invade your bedroom."

"It's—it's your estate, sir." She takes a step backward, ready to bolt away.

"I know you and Hazel are very close friends. I need your help to organize a picnic with food she would like. I'm afraid I have no skills in that department."

She snaps her heels together and straightens her back like a soldier. "Right away, sir!"

She turns, eager to pounce on the opportunity to run away from me, the hooded freak.

"One more thing," I blurt.

"Yes?" She whispers, voice dimming.

"I need you to tell me how you got entangled with Walker's sorry ass."

"Walker?"

"Yes. Lord Walker."

"You are the only Lord I know, sire. I've never crossed paths with a man called Walker."

What? Then how the hell does he know about her.

Hmm. This is quite an interesting mystery. I suppose I'll have to ask the man himself when he arrives.

"Nevermind. Focus on that picnic, and get me a sewing kit while you're at it."

"Do you have clothes that need mending?"

"No. I'm going to sew."

I've never sewn a damn thing in my life, but I'm hellbent on making a romantic gift for my Hazel. She once made me a sweater from scratch, when she didn't know the man under the hoodie.

I do not have her skill or the dainty fingers needed to handle a needle, but I've got plenty of determination.

"I understand, my Lord. Um..."

"What is it?"

"This Lord Walker that you mentioned...is he seeking me?"

Yes, he is, but she doesn't need to worry about that. Hazel would lose her mind if her best friend was snatched away by a man as unstable as I am.

"I'll take care of it," I assure her. But based on her clenched fists, my words don't bring her much peace.

"I'll go ahead and plan your picnic, sir. When would you like it presented?"

"By tomorrow. Thank you."

How hard could it be to sew an accessory? Surely it will only take a few hours.

She excuses herself. As she walks away, I add, "and include a box of bandaids with the sewing kit."

I swear I hear her giggle.