Chapter 57 Runaway
'Damn it! How did I even fall?'
In over twenty years of living, she'd never been this embarrassed—and of all people, he had to walk in on it!
Nicholas gently placed her on the large bed in the bedroom.
The strong scent of alcohol mixed with the fresh fragrance of body wash clung to him, creating a strange yet somehow dangerous aura that lingered between them.
Emma quickly pulled the bathrobe tighter around herself, wrapping it more securely. The atmosphere was painfully awkward.
Though they were married and had shared more intimate moments before, those encounters had always been in specific contexts, driven by certain purposes.
He'd never helped her bathe before, and they lacked the tender, affectionate intimacy that normal couples shared.
At this moment, the sudden situation left both of them in an unprecedentedly awkward predicament.Nicholas stood beside the bed, looking down at her.
"You can leave now. I'm fine!" Emma said coolly.
He watched her flushed cheeks, her damp hair, and the curves barely hidden beneath the bathrobe.
His Adam's apple bobbed involuntarily.
After a long silence, he suddenly spoke, his voice carrying an inexplicable coldness, "Emma, are you trying to seduce me?"
His tone was matter-of-fact, yet it hit like a bucket of ice water dumped over Emma's head.
She jerked her head up, staring at him in disbelief as her embarrassment and awkwardness instantly transformed into fury.
"Nicholas!" Her voice trembled with anger.
"Are you insane? Didn't you see that I fell?"
What was wrong with his brain? She'd nearly broken her bones in that fall, and he accused her of seduction?
Nicholas's face remained expressionless, only his eyes locked intensely on her.
He spoke calmly, his tone certain, "I saw everything clearly."
The scene in the bathroom had been quite an impact, even triggering a physical response in him.
He could still recall the sensation of her skin—ice-cold and silky smooth.
That was exactly why he felt this was all an elaborate performance.
Emma was rendered speechless by his words.
He was absolutely unreasonable! What did that look in his eyes even mean?
Did he think she'd deliberately fallen in front of him just to stage this whole scene?
She trembled with rage, clenching her fists so tightly her nails dug into her palms, squeezing out words through gritted teeth.
"Get out!" Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried resolute anger.
Nicholas gave her a long, deep look, his eyes unreadable.
Without another word, he turned and walked away, his face cold as stone.
The door slammed shut.
Two worlds, separated.
Nicholas leaned against the wall outside her door, the alcohol seeming to hit him even harder now.
He closed his eyes, but his mind uncontrollably replayed the scene from moments before.
That expanse of pale skin, that damp hair, and her panicked yet indignant expression.
Heat coursed through his body.
Damn it. He cursed under his breath, irritably tearing off his tie and throwing it on the floor.
That scene had ignited something deep within him.
Those desires he'd deliberately suppressed came surging back—he realized it had been far too long since they'd made love.
He couldn't sleep.
Lying in his own bed, tossing and turning. In the darkness, his eyes remained open, sleep nowhere to be found.
His mind was a chaotic mess, filled entirely with her image.
Eventually, he seemed to drift off.
In that half-awake, half-dreaming state, he found himself back at Dreamy Garden. Back when he could take whatever he wanted from her, indulging without restraint.
The dream scenes were chaotic yet passionate.
Her gasps, her responses, her struggles—those buried memory fragments became impossibly vivid in this moment.
The more abandoned they'd once been, the more torturous it was now. His body's cravings warred with his rational resistance.
This night was destined to be difficult.
The next morning, Nicholas came downstairs sporting dark circles under his eyes, his entire being radiating cold energy.
Emma and Victoria were having breakfast, the two women chatting.
"Nicholas," Victoria called out when she saw him.
The moment Emma saw his icy expression, she immediately fell silent, still feeling somewhat awkward about yesterday.
She kept her head down, sipping her porridge as if she hadn't seen him at all.
Victoria seemed to sense something off, then made a suggestion.
"Nicholas, it's the weekend, and today's the estate harvest festival. Why don't you take Emma and me horseback riding?"
Upon hearing this, Emma shook her head vigorously like a bobblehead doll. "I don't know how to ride. I'm not going."
Victoria took her hand. "Emma..."
"Don't touch her left hand," Nicholas shot her a stern look, his voice sharp with warning.
Victoria paled slightly. "Sorry, Emma, I forgot. I'll sit on your right side from now on."
Emma quickly comforted her. "It's fine, it doesn't hurt!"
"Then come riding with me! The harvest festival is so lively, and it only happens once a year. All the fruit in the orchards is ripe now."
Emma thought it sounded nice, but considering her injuries...
"Then we're going!" Nicholas declared. If she didn't want to go, he'd make sure she did.
After breakfast, Victoria helped her walk outside, where three servants were already waiting with three magnificent horses.
Two black, one white.
Emma stared at the snow-white stallion before her—noble and extraordinary.
Her gaze seemed drawn into its beauty, and the delight on her face was impossible to hide.
It was gorgeous!
The glossy coat, flowing lines, and powerful presence.
"Emma likes this one! I'll take the black one then!" Victoria said, gracefully mounting her horse with practiced ease.
"I don't know how to ride. You two go ahead! My foot's injured anyway, so it's not convenient." Emma shook her head again, then turned to leave.
She felt a pang of regret!
Nicholas saw right through her feelings.
Without a word, he carefully lifted her up and settled her securely on the broad horse's back.
"Ah!" She gasped in surprise. The saddle was soft and comfortable, though she swayed slightly as she sat.
Nicholas took the reins with practiced movements.
"Hold on tight," his voice wasn't loud, but carried undeniable authority. "Don't strain your left hand, and don't kick with your injured foot."
His instructions were meticulous, considering every detail for her safety.
Emma gripped the pommel in front of the saddle, still feeling nervous!
"But I don't know how to ride!"
"Emma, don't be nervous. Just hold the reins properly. I'll walk alongside you slowly—think of it like riding in a car! Very slow, no danger at all!" Victoria reassured her.
Finally, she nodded and even gave Victoria a smile, light as a gentle breeze.
Nicholas paused mid-motion as he held the reins. How long had it been since he'd seen her smile like that?
His gaze unconsciously softened, though he didn't notice the tenderness himself.
Suddenly, his phone rang, and he turned away to answer it.
Victoria instructed Emma on how to hold the reins properly, and the two horses began walking forward slowly.
Victoria glanced back at Nicholas, who was still on his call.
A barely perceptible curve played at the corners of her mouth.
Suddenly, she raised her riding crop and struck Emma's horse hard on the rump.
The horse spooked, letting out a sharp whinny before bolting forward.
"Ah! Victoria! Help me! I don't know how to ride!"
Emma's screams pierced the air, thick with terror.