Chapter 263: Airam Wants To Sleep With Ulrich [2]

After seeing Meera off in a rather unusual manner, to put it politely, Ulrich returned to the house.

He had ended up having sex with her outside, on the cold ground, with nothing but the courtyard walls and the sound of the fountain to give them any privacy. If someone had described such behaviour to him that morning, he would have regarded it with contempt. Ulrich Van Rubenhart did not lose control of himself in the open air, much less in a part of his own estate that servants used every day.

Yet he had done exactly that.

Meera had a way of getting past his defences. She laughed when he tried to be stern with her, pressed closer when he meant to keep his distance, and seemed to know when his patience was about to give way. There were moments when she reminded him of a succubus, though that was hardly a fair excuse for what had happened. She had drawn him in, certainly, but he had not tried very hard to escape.

Perhaps he had been closer to the edge than he realised.

His dreams of Faith had troubled him for days. Then Ashara had come to the estate, bringing years of feeling he had believed himself capable of burying. He cared for both women deeply. Silas’s love for Faith remained vivid in him, while what he felt for Ashara had survived their separation despite every effort he had made to put an end to it. Seeing Ashara in tears because of him had left him far less composed than he had appeared.

Meera had arrived soon afterward, and Ulrich was not indifferent to her either.

He could blame the accumulation of circumstances if he wished. Faith in his dreams, Ashara standing before him again, Meera choosing the worst possible moment to be irresistible; it was a persuasive explanation. It was also one he might have accepted more readily if he had not known how much he had wanted Meera himself.

Silas’s memories had changed him in this respect. Silas had been more open with Faith, more willing to let her see what she did to him, and Faith had been even more adept than Meera at driving him to distraction. Some part of that man still lived within Ulrich. He could feel it most clearly when the coldness he had relied upon for years failed him.

But Silas’s influence could not account for everything. Ulrich had rejected Ashara even while she cried; his capacity for restraint had not vanished. Tonight, with Meera, he had chosen to let it go.

Strangely enough, he did not regret that choice. Once the embarrassment of the location was set aside, he felt better than he had before she arrived. The restlessness left by his dreams and Ashara’s visit had eased, and his thoughts, though hardly orderly, no longer seemed to pull him in several directions at once.

That presented another problem. He had to consider what Meera was to him.

They had slept together three times. Two years had passed since he had been her first, each other’s first actually, and in all that time, as far as he knew, the only other times she had been with anyone had also been with him. Meera made light of nearly everything and spoke as though desire required no further explanation, but her actions suggested she did not treat this as casually as her teasing implied.

Ulrich could not understand what went through her mind when she came to him. Was she serious about him, beneath all her jokes? Did she intend for him to remain her only lover, or did she simply enjoy the freedom of choosing him whenever she pleased? Perhaps the answer was obvious to her. It was not obvious to him.

Women remained an enigma, and Meera seemed determined to make herself the most difficult of them all.

He went to his office, hoping a few hours of work would settle his thoughts. The accounting books and correspondence waiting on his desk ordinarily demanded enough attention to push everything else aside. Tonight he found himself rereading figures he had already checked and pausing with his pen above the page while his mind returned to the courtyard.

After an hour, he had managed to finish the most urgent documents and recover something closer to his usual composure. He put the rest aside and went to bathe, not the one in his room, but another one he didn’t use often, which was wider.

He had come back drenched from head to toe, and the warmth of the water was welcome after so long in the night air. Monika offered to assist him, but Ulrich declined before she could make any preparations beyond having the bath filled. His judgment had already failed him once that evening. He had no desire to find out how badly exhaustion might affect it a second time, particularly with his personal maid. Even the thought of causing that kind of embarrassment within his own household was enough to make him dismiss her.

By the time he had washed and dressed for bed, he expected no more surprises. He crossed to his bedroom, opened the door, and saw of course, the black-haired witch already lying on his mattress.

Airam raised herself slightly at his entrance. Her black eyes followed him as he stepped inside.

“You took your time.”

Ulrich’s expression twisted.

She spoke like a wife who had stayed awake until her hubby came back from night work. Airam had grown far too comfortable making herself at home in his room. He understood that sleeping near him had spared her the nightmares that followed her elsewhere, and he had allowed it before for that reason. Tonight, however, he needed solitude. He was tired, his thoughts were still in disarray, and he didn’t want the evening’s confusion intruding on the innocent trust she had placed in him as her guardian.

To put it bluntly, he didn’t want to have some strange body reactions due to his hormones with Airam sleeping right next to him.

“Head back to your room,” he said, stepping fully inside.

“No,” Airam replied.

Ulrich looked at her. She had not moved, and from her expression she plainly expected him to relent as he had on other nights.

“You are not sleeping here,” he said, his voice colder and more serious this time.

“Why?” Airam asked.

“Because I said so.”

“I want to sleep here. I don’t have—”

“Nightmares. I know.” Ulrich stopped her before she could finish. “But that is not an excuse to come into my room and sleep beside me whenever you please. Do you understand how improper that is for a noble lady?”

He had hoped the question might give her pause. Airam only shook her head and continued to stare at him from beneath the blankets.

“You cannot sleep beside a man,” he said.

“I am not sleeping beside another man. I am sleeping beside you.” She frowned, as though he had failed to grasp a clear distinction.

“That is exactly what I mean. It is improper.”

“Why?”

Ulrich’s eyes narrowed. “Would you go and sleep beside any other man?”

“I have never slept beside any boy or man except you,” Airam replied. “And I still do not see why it is improper.”

“Because I am a man and you are a woman.”

“You said we were of the same House.”

“We are.” He looked at her pointedly. “Do you understand now?”

“No. I feel safe here, and I sleep well beside you. You are the only one who thinks it is improper.”

Ulrich’s eyes twitched again.

He could not tell whether she genuinely failed to understand him or had decided that refusing to understand was the easiest way to win the argument. Airam was capable of either. She had always listened more carefully than she let on, particularly when she intended to turn his own words against him.

“I have heard enough. Go back to your sisters’ room.”

“I won’t.”

Airam pulled the sheet up around herself and gripped it with both hands. She did not look away from him.

“Airam.”

His voice had gone cold, but she ignored the warning. For a moment they remained as they were, facing each other across the bed while the lamp burned low on the bedside table. Ulrich had neither the patience nor the inclination to spend the rest of the night arguing over a place to sleep. Least of all tonight.

He went to the bed, pulled the sheet from her hands, and caught her before she could seize it again. Airam twisted away, but he lifted her over his shoulder before she could make another attempt.

“Let me go!”

She struck his back with both fists and struggled against his hold. Ulrich kept one arm securely around her and carried her to the door.

“You refused to walk.”

“I said let me go!”

“You may walk when I put you down.”

He took her into the corridor and headed straight for the room she shared with Hermione and Esther. Airam continued to protest all the way, but it made hardly any difference and she seemed to understand Ulrich was very serious this time.

At the sisters’ door, Ulrich turned the handle and stepped inside.

Hermione woke first. She sat up sharply at the sound, saw a tall figure coming through the darkness, and gave a high-pitched scream.

“Eek! Who’s that?!”

Her pillow flew toward his face. Ulrich caught it with his free hand and tossed it aside.

“U—Ulrich?”

Hermione’s eyes widened as she recognised him. Then her face turned bright red, and she snatched the sheet up to her chin. Beside her, Esther stirred and peered out from under the blankets. The moment she saw him, she moved shyly behind Hermione.

“L—Lord Ulrich? What is it?”

Ulrich crossed the room and deposited Airam on the bed. She landed among the blankets, sat upright at once, and fixed him with a furious glare.

“Keep her here,” he told them sternly. “Make sure she does not slip out again.”

Hermione looked from him to Airam. “What has she done?”

“As usual, bothered someone.”

He gave Airam one last look, turned, and closed the door behind him.

For a moment, neither Hermione nor Esther spoke. They stared at their elder sister, who was still sitting where Ulrich had put her, gripping the sheet with an expression dark enough to discourage questions.

Hermione sighed first.

“Airam, I told you to stop practising runes so late.”

It was the only explanation she could think of. Airam often came to bed after the two of them had fallen asleep, and sometimes she was gone again before they woke. Hermione had assumed she was spending those hours practising in secret; however, many times she had been told not to exhaust herself.

“That woman,” Airam muttered, her gaze darkening further. “I don’t like her.”

“Who, Eldest Sister?” Esther asked.

“The blue-haired one with the big breasts.”

Hermione blinked.

Esther stared at Airam in bewilderment.

Airam refused to explain. She crawled into her usual place beside them, pulled the sheet over herself, and turned away, muttering what sounded suspiciously like curses meant for Meera.

Hermione and Esther exchanged a look. Neither knew what had happened between their sister, Ulrich, and the woman who had visited that evening. They could tell, however, that Airam was sulking, and that asking her about it now would only make her angrier.