The Initial Sting of Jealousy

Lord Pembroke made an unexpected entrance at Harrington Hall, his charisma as captivating as ever. Amara engaged in his conversation, though her eyes frequently darted to the door, yearning for James to arrive. "I must admit," Pembroke said, leaning in slightly, "your presence here has certainly shaken things up. Lord Harrington is known for his composure, yet you seem to have unsettled him." Just as Amara was about to reply, James walked into the room, his demeanor dark and brooding. "Pembroke," he said with an icy tone, "I hope you're not planning to linger."

Once Pembroke departed, Amara turned to James, irritation bubbling within her. "Was that really necessary? He was merely being courteous." "Courteous?" James retorted, stepping closer with intensity. "The man was practically undressing you with his gaze." "And why does that upset you?" she shot back, her voice rising in defiance. "Because you belong to me!" The declaration escaped him before he could contain it, and the ensuing silence was palpable. Amara's heart raced as she locked eyes with him, his admission hanging heavily between them. Finally, she murmured, "I had no idea you felt that way." James moved closer, his tone gentle yet resolute. "Now you do."