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Family.

A connection to a past he wanted nothing to do with. He’d wanted to hate them. Had wanted them to hate him. It was safer that way. But all it took was seeing his own pain haunting the features of his stepmother’s face for his plan to crumble. So here he was…approaching a large oak tree, fat branches spanning from the wide trunk, for a repast with his family.

But even more than all of this…he hadn’t been ready for her.

Miss Dawson.

He’d spent every night in her bed over the past sennight. Wrists bound together, curled up next to one another. An ache built behind his breastbone, and he rubbed it. Last night he’d woken with her cocooned to him, his body curled around her, the arm tied to her wrists slung over her middle. He had no idea how they even got that way. They’d fallen asleep facing each other.

Not that he was complaining. He’d also awoken to her arse languidly grinding into his aching erection. One thing had led to another, and, well…he was never going to say no to being woken up like that.

Visions flashed. Sweat slicked skin. The taste of salt and woman. Hips softly rocking in tandem. Gasps and stuttered moans. A fluttering pulse under his lips. Heartbeats drumming in rhythm. It’d been different…

He tugged at his cravat. Also not something he needed to be remembering when on an outing with his stepmother and half-brother.

Rafe stepped beneath the tree’s canopy, which shaded a collection of blankets. A drink cart was set up next to them, along with a spread of food already arranged on the blankets.

Sebastian claimed one blanket for himself, immediately digging into the meat pies like he hadn’t eaten in days. Abigail’s lips twitched as she gracefully settled onto another blanket and began putting a plate together for herself.

She glanced Rafe’s way. “Do you share a similar appetite? I’ve been afraid to test it, but I’m fairly certain there is no amount of food that could fill Sebastian.”

“I’m a growing lad,” he said, words muffled around bites.

Rafe glanced down at his own plate, piled high with cold meats and cheeses and topped off with meat pies. “It would seem so.”

He’d always assumed he gorged because he knew what it was like to go without. But perhaps it was a family trait. They were big men, especially for Englishmen.

Abigail dabbed her mouth with a napkin. “When do you return to London, Raphael?”

He opened his mouth, as soon as possible, on the tip of his tongue. He frowned as the oddest feeling hit him. He…wasn’t looking forward to leaving. And he didn’t quite know how to make sense of that realization.

A knowing glint shimmered in his stepmother’s green eyes.

He cleared his throat gruffly. “I suppose when I know our plans for the estate are solidified and underway.”

Rafe glanced Sebastian’s way and caught his brother staring at him. Sebastian quickly looked away, shoving a tart into his mouth. But not before Rafe saw something on his brother’s face that gave him pause.

“Sebastian, so help me, if you don’t leave me a raspberry tart, I will ban Cook from making them for the next month!” Abigail glared at the pile of tarts piled on Sebastian’s plate.

Sebastian grinned sheepishly at his mother, raspberry jam coating his teeth and crumbs covering his lips.

His stepmother and brother picked up a conversation, but it barely registered with Rafe. Rafe rubbed at his sternum. This whole outing was…peculiar. It was…it was nice. And he didn’t know what to do with that.

Didn’t know what to do with the longing he’d just seen on his brother’s face directed at him. Like he didn’t want Rafe to leave. And if Rafe left, who would protect Sebastian from men taking advantage of him? His brother was so young. So naïve. He might have had some years with their father present, but he clearly hadn’t had his innocence robbed from him as Rafe had. Sebastian was still good. Rafe didn’t want him to lose that.

Rafe stared off into the distance, the monstrosity that was Ironcrest Castle looming. It was magnificent. A medieval architectural masterpiece.

It was the ugliest thing he’d ever seen.

There were too many monsters here. He’d had another realization over the course of his stay… He’d never be able to rid himself of them.

Let’s slay them one at a time.

He still couldn’t set foot in that castle without the walls closing in, the stones crashing down and crushing his throat. Some things broke a person beyond repair. And he could only hide in his steward’s cottage like the coward he was for so long. Before others noticed. Before it risked Miss Dawson’s reputation.

There wasn’t any reason for him to stay.

None at all.