In Chapter 287 of “Neglected,” Soren and Fiona arrive in the bustling city of Dasshire, a place filled with a lively mix of rogues and traders. Their journey ends at a modest merchant’s courtyard house, where Fiona feels tense and out of place amid the curious glances from the household staff. Soren’s demeanor is sharp and commanding as he arranges for Fiona’s comfort, but beneath his stern exterior lies a gentler side, especially in his interactions with her.
Fiona is escorted to a bathing chamber by a young maid who mistakenly assumes Fiona is Soren’s wife, addressing her with polite curiosity about their supposed newlywed status. Fiona plays along, fabricating a story about how they met to avoid revealing the truth. The maid’s concern over Soren’s recent injury hints at underlying troubles, but Fiona remains silent, overwhelmed by exhaustion.
Later, Soren changes into fresh robes and gently suggests Fiona rest downstairs, dismissing the maids to ensure privacy. When alone, Fiona questions Soren about his use of the alias “Mr. Fuller,” learning it is a practical measure to avoid suspicion. They discuss plans for Fiona’s departure and her wish to see Xavier before leaving, to which Soren responds he will send a letter.
The chapter culminates in a powerful moment between them as Soren unexpectedly pulls Fiona into a deep, possessive kiss. Despite his physical pain, his emotions burn fiercely, revealing his intense feelings and unwillingness to let her go. The kiss is tender yet urgent, filled with a homesick longing rather than passion, and ends with Soren showing a rare vulnerability, humbled and surrendered in his embrace of Fiona.
Chapter 287: Arrival in Dasshire
Soren carefully set his chopsticks aside, his movements deliberate and measured. His gaze locked onto Fiona’s with unwavering intensity. “Is it Xavier?” he asked quietly.
Startled by the sudden question, Fiona met his eyes but neither confirmed nor denied anything. Her silence spoke volumes.
Soren exhaled slowly, his fingers lightly brushing the fabric draped over his shoulders. “These clothes… did you buy them for Mr. Xavier?” he inquired, his voice softening.
Fiona’s mind raced, searching for an explanation that would satisfy him. Soren’s tone shifted, gentler now. “With me, you don’t have to walk on eggshells.”
Yet beneath his calm words, she feared the steel in his gaze might one day be wielded against Xavier.
“I won’t make things difficult for him, not while you’re here,” Soren added, as if reading the worry etched on her face.
By the time their carriage rumbled beneath the towering gates of Dasshire, the fading twilight had deepened into a rich, velvety dusk.
No sooner had they stepped inside the city walls than Fiona’s eyes caught sight of people dressed in vibrant silks and worn leather, a lively mix of rogues and traders filling the bustling streets. The rumors had been true—Dasshire was a melting pot of chaos and color.
Soren led her through narrow lanes to a modest courtyard house, its inhabitants projecting the air of respectable merchants.
The unfamiliar surroundings made Fiona tense. Her arrival attracted curious glances; the maids stole lingering looks at her travel-worn garments, their eyes filled with quiet speculation.
Even as Soren negotiated something in hushed tones, he issued a sharp command. “Prepare a bath for the lady.”
A young maid promptly escorted Fiona down a corridor thick with steam, leading her to the bathing chamber.
“Ma’am, shall I scrub your back?” the maid asked with polite deference.
Clearly unaware of Soren’s true identity, the girl must have assumed he was a wealthy guest and Fiona his wife.
“Yes, please. Thank you,” Fiona replied, choosing not to correct the misunderstanding.
The tension of the past two weeks weighed heavily on her. Leaning against the wooden edge of the tub, she felt herself drifting toward sleep.
“Is this your and Mr. Fuller’s first month as newlyweds?” the maid ventured, curiosity bubbling beneath her words.
“Mr. Fuller,” of course, was the alias Soren had adopted.
Fiona’s eyes fluttered open slightly. “What makes you think that?” she asked, voice soft and tired.
“He used to come alone. Every maid in the house fancied him, but he was always cold to us,” the girl explained.
“Yes, that sounds like him. Always so distant and aloof,” Fiona said with a faint laugh.
“How did you and Mr. Fuller meet?” the maid pressed.
That was a story Fiona couldn’t share, so she quickly fabricated a tale.
“My aunt planned to sell me off. He found me appealing and kept me close. Later, he married me, and I remain grateful for his kindness.”
“You’re lucky then, ma’am! But do you know how he got injured this time?” the maid asked, genuine concern in her tone.
Fiona said nothing. Her lashes fluttered once more before falling closed, sleep quietly claiming her.
Sensing her silence, the maid swallowed her remaining questions and stood watch in respectful silence.
When Fiona next saw Soren, he had changed into fresh robes of deep ink-blue. Two young maids flanked him, fussing over every imagined draft and chill, but he responded with curt nods and an unmistakable air of frost.
Yet the chill in his demeanor melted the instant his eyes found Fiona’s. “Would you like to go downstairs and rest for a while?” he asked gently.
Now, whatever she desired, he was ready to give.
Fiona’s lungs burned, the kiss stealing nearly all her breath.
Though she was considered tall among the court’s ladies, inside Soren’s embrace she felt almost fragile, like a delicate feather.
With eyes closed, he sank deeper into the moment, as if willingly drowning in it.
To Fiona, the kiss held no carnal hunger—only a homesick yearning and a desperate refusal to part.
Gently, Fiona pressed her palm against Soren’s chest. Even that small touch made him flinch, his brows knitting together in a sharp spasm of pain.
He loosened his tight hold just enough to lower his head and brush a feather-light kiss against the corner of her mouth—an unspoken plea disguised as tenderness.
A man’s pride is measured by the height of his stance. Tonight, Soren stood not tall but humbled—shoulders curved, head bowed, every line of his body a quiet confession of surrender.
The chapter closes on a tender yet charged moment between Soren and Fiona, revealing the depth of their complicated emotions. Despite the physical and emotional wounds they carry, their connection remains a source of solace and unspoken understanding. Soren’s protective nature and Fiona’s cautious acceptance weave together, highlighting themes of vulnerability, trust, and the fragile hope that underpins their uneasy alliance.
As they settle into the unfamiliar surroundings of Dasshire, the contrast between the bustling city and their intimate exchange underscores the tension between their public facades and private desires. This chapter gently explores the complexity of love and loyalty in the face of hardship, leaving the reader with a poignant sense of longing and the quiet promise of resilience amidst uncertainty.
The next chapter promises to delve deeper into the complex emotions simmering beneath Soren and Fiona’s fragile alliance. As they navigate the unfamiliar streets of Dasshire, the tension between them is palpable, hinting at unresolved feelings and unspoken fears. The delicate balance of trust and vulnerability they share may face new tests, especially as Fiona’s desire to see Xavier lingers quietly in the background, threatening to stir old wounds and new uncertainties.
Amid the bustling chaos of the city, the arrival in Dasshire is just the beginning of a journey filled with subtle power plays and whispered secrets. Soren’s protective yet wounded demeanor suggests that his past and present are intricately intertwined, and Fiona’s role in his world is far from simple. Readers can expect the emotional stakes to rise, with moments of tenderness shadowed by the looming presence of danger and the weight of hidden truths. The next chapter will undoubtedly explore how these tensions unfold, leaving both characters—and readers—on edge.
Sara Lili is a daring romance writer who turns icy landscapes into scenes of fiery passion. She loves crafting hot love stories while embracing the chill of Iceland’s breathtaking cold.

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