Harry was forced to jump out of his master’s embrace. Thomas Shannon then hugged her, raising his hand to pinch her cheek. "Do you know what you’re doing, hmm?"
"I know. I’m proving to you that I’m not a maidservant."
Sophie’s hazy eyes flickered, eventually settling back on his handsome face. "What do you think?"
Thomas Shannon chuckled softly.
Charlie River’s face was serious. "Young Master, Frank Mitchell has indeed met with Amelia Shaw."
As expected, Frank Mitchell’s return to the country had a strong purpose.
Amelia Shaw was his first target.
"Alright, continue watching."
No matter what Frank Mitchell was up to this time, Thomas Shannon was prepared to face whatever he had planned.
As for Amelia Shaw... it would depend on her choice. Her destiny was in her own hands.
After taking a bath, Sophie lay on the bed to rest.
Tired all day, her strength was also drained.
In a half-asleep, half-awake state, different scenes floated through her brain.
Images flickered in her brain, so fast that she couldn’t capture them.
When Thomas Shannon returned to the bedroom, he found her lying stiffly, both her hands tightly gripping the silk quilt, and her forehead covered in cold sweat.
It seemed she was trapped in a nightmare.
He came to her bedside, gently patting her cheek. "Maniac, wake up!"
Sophie was oblivious, her brow furrowed as cold sweat seeped from her skin, layer after layer.
Thomas Shannon increased the force, slapping her cheek. "Maniac, wake up!"
Finally, Sophie opened her eyes. They were unfocused as she stared blankly at the ceiling. She was gasping slightly, and after a long time, her vision finally cleared.
She stared at Thomas Shannon, asking softly, "What’s wrong?"
"Did you have a nightmare?"
Did she have a nightmare?
Sophie closed her eyes, thinking hard, but her brain was blank...
She had seen many scenes in her dream, but now, she had no impression of them.
She let out a long, turbid breath. "I had a nightmare..."
"Are you alright?" The man’s dry, warm hand touched her forehead.
He checked her temperature. Her temperature was normal. Once he confirmed she wasn’t sick, Thomas Shannon got up to leave.
Sophie thought he had left, but to her surprise, he had only gone to the bath chamber to wring out a wet towel.
She stared blankly at his incredibly handsome face, allowing him to gently wipe the cold sweat from her face.
"What are you looking at?" Thomas Shannon pursed his thin lips and cast her a glance.
His hand continued to move, carefully wiping her face.
His touch was gentle; the soft towel felt like a feather lightly brushing her face.
It brought a comfortable sensation.
Sophie’s lips parted, wanting to say something, but at this moment, she didn’t know what to say.
Should she thank him? Sophie wasn’t used to it...
As Thomas Shannon’s hand withdrew, Sophie grabbed it, her eyelids fluttering lightly. "Why are you so nice to me?"
Thomas Shannon hooked his lips into a faint smile. "What do you think?"
Sophie pouted. "I don’t know; I want you to tell me."
"Guess for yourself."
Withdrawing his hand, Thomas Shannon got up and went back to the bath chamber.
Sophie snorted. She sat up and rubbed her forehead. Her head was still aching.
After calming down for a while, she lifted the silk quilt and got out of bed.
Thomas Shannon also came out of the bath chamber. He looked her up and down. "Change your clothes and come downstairs for dinner."
On the long dining table, dozens of dishes, perfect in color, aroma, and taste, and all beautifully plated, were laid out.
Famished, Sophie sat down. Just as she picked up her chopsticks, Thomas Shannon pressed her hand down.
His narrow eyes slanted at her. "Drink the soup first."
"You’re even controlling how I eat?" Sophie was starving and wanted to eat rice.
"This soup is suitable for women during their menstrual period."
Sophie’s movements with her chopsticks slowed, and she eventually gave up. She rested her cheek on one hand, playfully teasing Thomas Shannon, "Young Master, you haven’t fallen in love with me, have you?"