Daniel rose after closing the first-aid kit, but Linda wasn't ready to let him walk away so easily. Her lips curled into a sly smile as she leaned back against the pillows, her bandaged hand cradled protectively.
"Wow…" she said softly, her voice light with teasing. "You defended me for the first time. Am I dreaming?"
Daniel froze mid-step, glancing over his shoulder. For a moment, his face was unreadable, that usual mask of iron control firmly in place.
Then, in two strides, he was back before her. His hand shot out, pinching her lightly at her waist. Linda gasped, half laughing, half hissing at the sudden touch.
"Ah! Daniel!"
His lips quirked upward, the faintest of smirks breaking through. His voice dropped low, the teasing edge almost dangerous.
"No, my revolutionary queen. You're not dreaming."
Her cheeks burned crimson. The title rolled off his tongue in a way that felt less like a joke and more like a claim. She bit her lip, her heartbeat thundering against her ribs.
He leaned closer, his face so near that she could feel the warmth of his breath. "Don't get used to it," he murmured, though his hand lingered just above her hip, refusing to pull away.
Linda's lips trembled into a smile. "Too late," she whispered, emboldened by the closeness. "I think I might."
For a fleeting moment, Daniel's mask slipped entirely. His eyes softened, the storm in them quieted, and his thumb brushed across her bandaged finger again with startling tenderness.
Then he straightened, trying to cloak himself back in his usual armor of arrogance. "Hopeless," he muttered, but his ears betrayed him, turning faintly red as he moved toward the door.
Linda pressed her hand against her burning cheek, grinning despite herself.
Not dreaming, she thought, heart soaring. And maybe, just maybe… I don't want to wake up.
"Stay in the room today," Daniel said firmly, standing with his arms folded across his chest.
Linda looked up from where she was tying her hair, her brow arching. "For what reason, exactly?"
He gestured toward her hand. "That cut."
She blinked, then gave a short laugh. "This?" She held up her palm, showing the tiny bandaged line. "It's hardly a battle wound, Daniel. I've survived far worse."
His gaze didn't soften. "You'll survive even better if you don't make it worse. Stay in the room. Rest."
"Rest?" Linda scoffed, tossing her braid back over her shoulder. "If I rested every time I had a scratch, I'd have slept through half my life."
Daniel stepped closer, lowering his voice. "Linda…"
Her chin tilted up, matching his stubbornness. "Daniel."
For a moment, their eyes locked, neither willing to give ground. Then, suddenly, he reached out and pulled her by the waist. The abrupt closeness made her breath catch, her words die in her throat. His warmth pressed against her, his eyes sharp and unrelenting.
He leaned down, his lips near her ear, voice husky but controlled. "Stay. In. The. Room."
Her heartbeat stumbled. She tried to gather her composure, but his hand at her waist made her knees feel less steady.
"You can't just silence me by dragging me around like a sack of grain," she whispered, though her voice had lost its edge.
"I can. And I will," he replied calmly, releasing her only after making sure his words sank in.
Linda swallowed, her chest rising and falling faster than she wanted to admit. Daniel's smirk was small, satisfied, as if he knew exactly how much he had unsettled her.
When he finally stepped back, turning toward the door, Linda seized her chance.
"Daniel," she called softly, her tone almost coaxing.
He glanced over his shoulder. "What now?"
"There's a book fair in the village next week…" she began carefully, testing the waters. "It might be nice to—"
The shift in his face was instant. The warmth from seconds ago vanished, replaced by a stormy glare.
"Linda," his voice cracked like a whip, "didn't I say enough about this nonsense? No more talk about books."
Her lips parted. "Nonsense? Daniel, it's just—"
"Just?" He spun around fully now, his expression dark. "Books are not for women to waste time on. You think your hands are cut because of kitchen chores? No. It's because you're chasing after things that aren't meant for you."
Her chest tightened, stung by his words. "And who decides what's meant for me? You?"
"Yes. Me." His voice was final, like the slam of a gavel.
For a moment, Linda's throat burned with retorts, but his eyes warned her he wouldn't bend.
Daniel moved to the door, his hand gripping the handle. Before stepping out, he paused, his back still turned.
When he finally spoke, his words were low but sharp enough to slice through the fragile quiet.
"Don't mistake my softness toward you as a flame you can feed into your revolution. That softness… belongs to my wife. The woman I married. Not a revolutionary queen trying to tear down the rules of this village."
The door shut with a thud.
Linda stood frozen, her chest rising and falling, his words echoing inside her until they felt heavier than the silence he left behind.
-------
PLEASE SUPPORT,
LOVE FROM,
♡LINDA AND DANIEL♡