Fiona glanced up at Giles, walking beside her down the hallway. She had thanked him politely when he offered to go with her to deliver the documents, but there was a questioning look in her eyes.
“What is it?” he asked.
“Nothing. It’s just…you seem calmer than before. Your mood is different.”
Giles touched his face—not that doing so would tell him anything, but he supposed it was possible that he was displaying some outward sign of the confusing change he had just undergone. “I’m different?”
“Yes, a little different from when I first saw you in the office. I, um, just assumed that my uncle’s sudden request to see you had caused you some stress.”
From this cryptic explanation, Giles surmised that Fiona had thought he was feeling either tired or defensive. Giles himself had thought he was acting normal enough, but there was probably a tension in him that showed through. “Nothing to worry about,” he assured her. “I’m glad I got to speak with your uncle here today.”
“Well, I’m glad to hear it. But I’m really sorry if—”
“Fiona.” He stopped her before the door to the parlor, pressing a finger to her lips to silence her. An apology was not what he sought. His touch softened, and Fiona’s eyes went wide. She seemed frozen to the spot. “I don’t need an apology. I had to make a few adjustments, but I haven’t done anything I didn’t want to do.”
Fiona, like the hallway itself, was dimly illuminated with afternoon light. He peered searchingly into her eyes. Giles knew that there was plenty about his looks that he should be grateful for, but he’d never cared for the icy color of his eyes. Fiona’s more common amber eyes held a warmth that his lacked.
Fiona’s gaze darted around nervously for a moment before settling on a spot slightly to the side of Giles, and a red flush flooded her white cheeks. Satisfied by this, Giles removed his finger from her lips.
“R-really, Lord Giles!” Fiona chided him in a burst of pent-up nerves.
“Gil.”
“Huh?”
“We’re much closer now. Call me Gil.”
“Wha—?! B-but—”
How much longer are you going to treat me like a stranger? Giles thought but did not ask aloud. Duly chided, Fiona was rendered speechless. Giles was relieved to see that she looked reluctant but not repulsed.
Fiona’s fondness for Giles was largely based on respect. It was, first and foremost, the proper attitude to display toward someone with whom one shared a contract, and a contract was a contract. One wrong move would be all it took for Giles to lose the trust that Fiona—the one person he could believe in—had placed in him.
The blame lay with Giles for falling in love with Fiona, and now that he had that feeling, he couldn’t bear to lose it. As Reginald had said, they might easily have never even met.
Giles still held her left hand. He felt the ring on her finger and pictured her watch in his pocket. Suddenly, he knew what he should do. He leaned in close so that he could whisper intimately in her ear. “You know, with your uncle here, it’s best we be thorough. Come on, Fiona…say it.”
Fiona’s eyes went wide once more, her lashes fluttering wildly. He continued to coax. She opened her mouth and shut it again numerous times, but finally, he heard a faint, uncertain murmur escape her lips. “Lord…Gil.”
That alone was enough to fill the space in his heart that had been empty all those years. Giles knew he was being ridiculously single-minded, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. “Say it again.”
“L-Lord Gil.”
“Good. But drop the Lord.”
“I can’t!”
“Then say it one more time.” This is getting dangerous, he thought. Her bright-red face was so adorable, the tears of embarrassment welling in her eyes so tantalizing, he was tempted to keep making her say his name, over and over. “Come on. Fiona?”
“St-stop!”
“Uh…what’re you doing?”
They whirled to find Rudolph pushing a cart in their direction, a tea set balanced atop it. Down the hall from him was Dennis, whose mouth was opening and closing in a panic with no actual sound coming out.
“We get it,” Rudolph continued, “you guys are in love, but if you’ve gotta be gooey with each other, get a room.”
“G-gooey?!” Fiona stammered.
“Anyway, sorry to butt in, but can you let us by? I’ve got my hands full here,” said Rudolph.
“Y-yes, of course!”
Whispering a silent thank you to her savior, Fiona whirled around, put her back to Giles, opened the parlor doors, and let Rudolph in.
“Tough break,” Giles murmured.
“L-Lord Gil! Enough of your jokes,” she hissed.
“I wasn’t joking,” he whispered back, taking the door from her.
Even after Fiona entered the room, the redness did not leave her cheeks.