Claw Foot Dining Table Novels & Stories

He said, I noticed he had a limp in his leg as he walked. A few minutes later, Lila, assisted by Annie, came out with plates of home baked-crusted bread, boiled green peas and carrots, and a large piece of roasted meat dripping with juices. The table was a beautifully carved brown table, with wolf claws used as its design. I sat down at the table, Annie sitting next to me while Lila sat on the opposite side. Callum and Jackson who had gone out to talk walked back in and Jackson noticed my eyes on his leg again.

Clara reached the dinner area, absentmindedly she took her seat at the dinning. The dining room was a large hall with carvings, colorful decorations and huge windows that allowed for fresh air. Clara could see the garden from where she sat. It was beautiful. The table was long and even after everyone was seated, some chairs were left unoccupied. Clara stared at the table full of various dishes and her mouth watered. Although Clara did not recognize some of the dishes, still it looked mouth watering. She raised her eyes to look at the people seated around the table. There were a total of five people including herself. Seeing the others quietly eating their meal, Clara hesitated before picking

ROXANNE POV The grand dining room was nothing short of palatial. Marble floors, gold accents, crystal chandeliers and a dark wood table too long for just five people. Fred was already there, flipping lazily through a magazine, while Mrs. Clara sat like a queen at the head of the table. Her posture was immaculate, her expression unreadable. A chef emerged from the side doors with trays of food while two maids set the table with cutlery and napkins.

The formal dinner in the lower banqueting hall is a masterpiece of psychological warfare. The long tables are packed with Northern lords and Malakai’s tattooed captains, drinking the heavy Southern wine in a rigid, suffocating silence. Clyde sits beside me at the high table, his arm locked securely around my waist from behind, his broad palm splaying over my ribs with a heavy, possessive grip that asserts his absolute ownership to the entire room. His golden eyes never leave Malakai, who sits across the floor, casually peeling a piece of fruit with a silver pocket-knife, his green-flecked gaze occasionally drifting to my bare shoulders.

Adam’s lessons ran on repeat in my head: shoulders back, chin high, never let them see you fold in on yourself. Clara guided me to the tables reserved by the Lachlan Foundation. Two tables. The one on the left was packed with white-haired donors and Nan at the center, commanding the group like royalty. The one on the right was family—Agnes and Maxwell, Luca, Aaron, and Julian. I aimed for Granny table. Clara smoothly blocked me and steered me into the empty chair beside Julian. Perfect. She sat on my other side, boxing me in. Three empty seats remained at the table, one of which had to be Marcus’s.

The hallway was quiet except for the faint sounds coming from the kitchen. ‎She walked toward the dining table, her footsteps light against the floor. Just as she reached the table, she saw her best friend, Cleo, emerging from the kitchen, carefully balancing two plates full of food. Claire smiled at the sight and pulled out two chairs, one for herself and one for Cleo. ‎ ‎“Breakfast looks amazing,” Claire said warmly as she took her seat, her eyes flicking over the steaming food. ‎ ‎Cleo grinned, placing the dishes in front of them. “I hope you’re hungry,” she replied with a playful tone, taking the seat across from Claire.

He promised he would never permit himself to be like his ancient asshole self again. He gulped the rest of his dinner, at that point put both hands on Cassie’s thighs. She looked down at them, her tongue meandering out between her lips with a see of lust. “Let’s go for a walk,” Claw said. “I’d cherish to appear you the property.” They deserted their purge plates and went out into the evening discuss. It was a bit chilly, so Claw gave her his calfskin coat. It was huge on her, the sleeves long and saggy, but it some way or another made her see indeed more charming.

Part respect, part wariness. We headed down to the main floor, and one of the men hooked my arm in his to help steady me. I was used to six-inch platform heels, but for some reason three-inch heels that were too big were more difficult to navigate. They led me to a large set of doors and opened one, allowing me to step in. The dining room was stunning. A large dark wood table that seated at least a dozen people was set for only two. The door shut, and I found myself alone as I stepped to the far end of the table.

She knew that only a hardworking person could own that much. They went to a table that was surrounded by six empty chairs in a blind spot and sat down. The guys went away to guard them from afar. Soon, at the table where they were sitting, Cain and Floral came in to join them, flaunting their million-dollar designer wear. Claire ignored them, and they ignored her back. The party kicked off, and their table was served with wines and cakes, which Finn ate and drank from. They were at it when he took a bathroom break, "I'm pressed." He whispered to Claire.

The table was set for four. Leila had chosen the small dining room deliberately, not the formal hall with its twenty-foot ceilings and portraits of dead kings staring down at everything. The small room. The one with the fireplace and the low chandelier and chairs close enough that you couldn't hide behind the distance. She needed them close tonight. Clara had outdone herself. Roasted lamb, fresh bread, candles, wine for the men and sparkling water that nobody had asked about yet. The kind of meal that said celebration without being obvious about it.