Chapter 33
However, her dignity and willpower were a little shaken. She had to regain the upper hand.
“About this nursery...,” Eden continued, as Ian reached the threshold of her suite.
“What about it?”
He put her down again and looked at her with something like resignation in his eyes.
“It'll be here, Eden told him softly. On this floor.”
They stared at each other for a moment in silence. Ian still didn't seem convinced, but didn't refuse firmly this time.
“Please…” Eden pleaded.
“Fine...,” he sighed. But away from my ears!
“Yes, Ian.”
Eden savored her triumph, but caught a shadow in her husband's eyes as he turned away, which ruined her pleasure a little.
“And get some rest please” he shouted over his shoulder, “if you agree, for once, to do as you're told”
“I'll go, I promise”
Eden opened the door and stepped into the room. Toby beat her to it before she had time to say anything.
“Well…”
She closed the door and leaned against it. Eden had said she was going, but not necessarily that she was going to rest.
In any case, it wouldn't be long before Ian returned to inspect the estate. Now she could start looking for the ideal location for the children's rooms.
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Ian had wished Eden would be a little less submissive and complacent; it seemed heaven had granted his wish.
Whether this was a good sign remained to be seen.
And you couldn't nail down a demanding omega as easily as a mistress who was a little too demanding... Ian turned in the saddle of his bay mare and gazed at the main farm of his estate.
Taylor, his steward, seemed to be wondering what had happened to him today. Ian had been with him every morning, looking for ways to restore the estate.
Ivan hadn't shown the slightest interest in the land from which a large part of his income came, and hadn't delegated enough power to his steward to enable him to manage it to the best of his ability.
He had been as jealous of the prerogatives he felt his employees might have stolen from him as he had been of those his brother might have enjoyed.
Ian had developed his Fosse Warren estate, investing heavily and employing the most modern methods. It would take a lot of time and effort to achieve the same result here.
But at least Taylor was now content to take orders from an employer who looked at things creatively and pragmatically, didn't shy away from investing when necessary, and appreciated his collaboration.
Ian brought his mare up to speed, even though the animal was chomping at the bit. He was in no hurry to discuss the qualities of turnips for a good three-year crop rotation or the price of this or that orchard that Taylor had advised him to buy.
Thinking about Eden was far more absorbing and kept his other, darker thoughts at bay.
Eden had a sensual nature, Ian was sure. She loved kisses, her body responded to his, and he took ingenuous pleasure in exploring her body.
Eden wanted him, apparently, and every time Ian touched her, he felt like Eden was finally going to experience pleasure.
Then, as soon as things got more intense, she would either cower in her shell or remain submissive and passive.
Perhaps she repressed herself when her natural modesty conflicted with her duty? Or was it something else? Her pregnancy? A problem with him or Ivan?
Eden was an annoying enigma to Ian, wanting so much to understand his omega. Apparently submissive and aware of her duties, Eden had stood up to him regarding the nursery, and he was already certain that, even if they spent sleepless nights enduring the baby's yelps, Eden would never change her mind and allow the child to be moved upstairs. It was a bit like the breakfast story.
Eden had simply disregarded his habits. She was pregnant with his brother's work, but seemed as nervous as a virgin.
She was sensual and provocative, yet frightened by the slightest kiss.
And now Eden was sobbing over nothing! This, Ian knew, was just a consequence of her condition: Eden had been as surprised as he was by this crying fit. But it was enough to make Ian feel like a bully.
Ian wanted to take her in his arms and never let her go again; his alpha was angry with him for making their omega cry.
But Ian wasn't in the habit of bullying. He had firmness, certainly, authority no doubt, in the conduct of business, but loyalty, too.
This was his credo: if you wanted people to be loyal to you, you had to start by being loyal to them.
Ian wasn't in the habit of lying to himself either. In his somewhat nervous reaction this morning, there was something more than simple opposition to an over-emotional wife, and there was no point in deceiving himself about it.
It felt like a sword in the belly to see his childhood bedroom again. He hadn't been unhappy there, though.
He could still see his nurse's smiling face, the little soldiers he used to play with Ivan. He still had the taste of honey-sweetened porridge in his mouth, and the memory of his mother at night, before bedtime.
Even when Ivan had left him to live downstairs, he hadn't been sad. Quite happy, in fact, to be able to play quietly on his own and dream undisturbed.
Of course, he had missed his brother. He had barely seen him once he entered the upper world, the world of the single room and the classroom, and he'd waited impatiently until he was deemed old enough to join him.
But Ivan’s attitude had changed completely from what he knew to that of an heir. His brother now saw him like an intruder.
Ian had to learn not to touch his toys or books, not to sit at his desk, not to ask their tutor for help before he did.
By the age of twelve, Ian had begun to follow the old estate manager around, asking him a thousand questions. He was fascinated by everything to do with land management, and soon had his own ideas on the subject, which old Peters encouraged him to pursue.
One day, realizing the breadth of his knowledge, his father asked him, in front of Ivan, for his opinion on how to care for the herds. As soon as he was alone, his brother jumped on him and violently twisted his arm.
“I'm the heir,” he hissed hatefully in his ear. You're only the youngest, the spare. Everything will be mine: the title, the castle, the land. You are nothing, Ian. Never forget that.
Then, for the first time, Ian became angry. He had hit his brother, fought with him, carried away by a furious, desperate rage.
Ivan finally bit the dust. He complained to their mother about his split lip and black eye.
Ian was whipped. But his brother had never provoked him again, and the younger Boyle had discovered on that occasion that he was capable of defending himself.
Yet it wasn't these bad memories that had struck him when he entered his nursery, but the sudden awareness that it was Ivan’s child who would be sleeping in that cradle, and not his own.
It was for this unavowable reason that he had supported the idea that this room should remain relegated to the upper floors.
He wasn't proud to admit it. And he who had proudly declared to Eden that her pup, if it was a boy, would one day inherit his title He meant it, though.
He didn't have to think long and hard about it. It was the right thing to do, that's all. He hadn't changed his mind.
So what was bothering him now? If Eden gave him a son, he would inherit Fosse Warren. He'd even give it to him while he was still alive.
Until a few days ago, this little estate had been his life's ambition.
Now he wanted to pass it on to his son, to a boy who would grow up under the simple name of Mr. Boyle, just like him.
What had changed?
What had changed in the meantime?
Ian shook his head, disgusted and furious with himself. Ashamed. For God's sake, he'd done everything in his power to live up to his conscience: honor his duty, marry Eden, legitimize her son.
But now he was discovering that he wasn't quite the rational, sensible man he thought he was.
“Poor fool!” he exclaimed loudly.
Surprised, his mare flinched and swerved. He reassured her by patting her neck. Then, with a flick of his heels, he urged her into a gallop.
“Come on, let's get to work,” he murmured through gritted teeth. “I've wasted enough time climbing on the roof and looking at a damn cradle.”