Chapter 327 Ecstatic
Amelia's hand froze, holding the slippers, and her face turned red.
She stammered, "You..."
Frederick saw her at the door while he was struggling with his wristwatch. He extended his hand and said softly, "There's sand stuck in it. Can you help me?"
His hand hurt, and he didn't want to force the watch off.
Amelia blushed deeply and mumbled, "Hand over, turn around." Her voice was barely audible.
Frederick didn't seem to hear. He stepped closer, his presence overwhelming, his scent filling the air.
Amelia's heart pounded.
He stopped in front of her, back turned, and extended his hand with the watch. He was calm, unlike her turmoil.
Seeing him extend his hand, Amelia sighed inwardly. She focused on the watch clasp, which was indeed stuck with sand.
She couldn't help but notice his prominent bulge, making her face burn and nerves tingle. After a tense moment, she freed the watch and handed it to Frederick, their fingers brushing briefly, sending a jolt through her. She quickly turned to leave, heart racing.
Frederick watched her leave, a satisfied smile on his face as he closed the bathroom door.
When Rachel returned, she saw Amelia alone in the living room, fiddling with medical tools.
She looked around and asked, "Where's Frederick?"
Amelia, recalling the earlier scene, coughed lightly, glanced upstairs, and said awkwardly, "He's taking a shower."
Rachel nodded, noticing Amelia's red face. She felt her forehead and asked, "A bit warm. Fever?"
Amelia put down the disinfectant and patted her cheeks. "I don't think so."
Rachel understood that Frederick had been pursuing Amelia shamelessly. She sighed, "As long as you're okay. Finish up and get some rest. Don't catch a cold."
Amelia softly agreed, "Okay, you rest too."
After organizing the tools, Amelia remembered she hadn't brought Frederick a towel.
There was only her pink towel in the bathroom. Frederick probably wouldn't use it.
She sighed and found a new towel to bring to him.
At the bathroom door, she saw Frederick wrapped in her pink towel.
The pink towel contrasted with his tanned skin.
Amelia stared, shocked and confused. She grumbled, "Aren't you a germaphobe?"
Frederick looked at her, amused. He said softly, "If it's yours, I can accept it." His voice was low, making her stomach flutter.
Amelia was speechless. She couldn't keep her eyes on him, not with that towel highlighting his physique. She didn't want strange dreams or to be caught staring.
She handed him the new towel, their fingers brushing briefly, sending a shiver down her spine. "Change it," she whispered.
Frederick saw her flustered and raised an eyebrow. "Changing again is too much trouble. You still need to treat my wound," he said, a playful glint in his eyes that made her blush even more.
Amelia sighed and bit her lip, giving up on the towel.
Frederick smiled and said, "Let's go, treat my wound."
Seeing he was about to head downstairs like that, Amelia quickly pulled him back. "Wait, I'll find you something to wear."
Frederick paused. Did she have men's clothes here? Could they be Daniel's? His smile faded.
Amelia went to her wardrobe, pulled out a small storage box, and took out clothes Frederick had worn three years ago at the Davis Manor.
Frederick watched quietly until he saw the familiar clothes. Only then did he relax.
When he reached for the clothes, he also grabbed Amelia's hand and pulled her into his arms.
Amelia paused and struggled.
Frederick's voice was hoarse, gentle. "Don't move, let me hold you."
In the brief moment Amelia took to get the clothes, a strange fear had gripped him. He was terrified the clothes would belong to another man. He realized then that Amelia had probably felt the same insecurity during their three years of marriage.
Amelia felt hot, his body heat making her uncomfortable. She didn't know if it was the spiked drink, but Frederick's presence was intensifying the effects.
Her face was flushed, her mind a whirlwind of emotions. After a few seconds, she whispered, "I'm a bit sleepy."
Frederick, sensing her discomfort, said softly, "We'll treat the wound tomorrow. You should go to bed." His voice was soothing, but his arm stayed around her.
Amelia looked up at him and teased, "If we don't treat it and your hand gets paralyzed, won't I have to take responsibility for you?"
Frederick replied softly, "You don't need to take responsibility." His voice sent a shiver down her spine.
Amelia snorted, pushing him away. "Go to the dressing room and change your clothes," she said, her voice stronger.
Seeing her genuine sleepiness, Frederick didn't linger.
After changing, he saw Amelia waiting at the door and followed her downstairs.
Downstairs, Amelia had prepared the tools to clean his wound.
She was serious while cleaning Frederick's wound. There was a lot of sand, making it painful. Frederick held onto Amelia's sleeve tightly.
After cleaning, Amelia re-bandaged his hand with gauze.
While bandaging, she asked, "You didn't drink on the yacht, did you?"
Frederick shook his head. "No. You told me I couldn't drink, so I didn't."
He answered sincerely, his warm gaze on Amelia, waiting for her praise.
Amelia met his expectant gaze and instinctively replied, "Very good. When you get home, remember to take your medicine. Go home now; I need to rest, too."
She had finished bandaging as she spoke.
Frederick, seeing her tired face, stood up and quietly said, "I'll go now. You get some rest. Goodnight."
Amelia nodded lightly. "Goodnight."
Frederick, satisfied, walked out of the Davis Manor. Amelia cleaned up the tools and went upstairs.
Just as Frederick reached the gate, his phone rang.
He saw it was a call from Amelia. Suppressing his excitement, he answered. "What's up?"
Amelia's voice came through, "Come back."
Frederick was overjoyed. Was Amelia asking him to stay at the Davis Manor?
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