Reaching the steps, just about to ascend, the door was opened, and a slender figure fluttered over like a butterfly. Amelia Clarke looked up at him with a small face, her eyebrows curved, a light smile blooming, "You're back."
Owen Moreland looked at her, his eyes suddenly deepening.
The girl was wearing a strappy nightgown, her lightly curled long hair cascading over her shoulders. Her skin, exposed and as white as snow, seemed to glow under the courtyard lights. Her lovely figure was barely concealed, especially at her chest where the movement caused a tremble that incited endless imaginings.
Amelia didn't notice the change in his gaze, drawing near to him.
Her smile grew wider as she realized he did not have the scent of another woman's perfume she had anticipated.
Entering the bedroom, Amelia reached out to take his suit jacket, "You're back so late, you must be tired. Take a bath and get some sleep."
Her demeanor was like that of a diligent wife.
