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She was a steward. He was a duke.
A duke who was leaving.
A duke who would one day need a wife.
Something she never ever intended to be.
She rubbed at her sternum.
No matter how happy a bubble they’d created, there was one thing that happened to all bubbles.
They burst.
29
Rafe
“Would you fancy a ride?”
Rafe glanced up from where he was taking a quick respite in the drawing room by his chambers. His brother stood in the doorway, looking as though he was about to fall over with how hard he was trying to hold himself still. Rafe’s lips twitched.
“I was thinking how a ride sounded like just the thing.” He threw back the last of his coffee and stood. That unavoidable itchiness was starting—the one he got when he stayed inside the castle for too long. He needed to conquer that, overcome it, though. If he were to ever come back again…
A grin sprang to life on his brother’s face. “Excellent.”
They made their way to the stables, a companionable silence settling around them. He never, in a million years, would have thought a return visit to Ironcrest was in the cards. Never thought he’d want to return again after this expedition. He glanced at his brother’s profile. But now… There were things—desires—battling his demons for priority. Like Miss Dawson. Like forming a relationship with his half-brother and stepmother.
Once they were finally saddled and pointed toward one of the grounds many trails, his brother finally broke the silence.
“You’re a man of few words.”
“Mmm.”
Sebastian threw his head back and laughed. “Do you do it on purpose?”
A smile tugged at Rafe’s lips. “Sometimes. Just then, yes. When people point it out…I like pulling their leg a bit.”
Sebastian’s attention darted his way, green eyes dancing. “I’ve caught that. Your humor is so subtle I would assume most miss it.”
“You’d be correct.”
“Why? Why do you choose to…”
“Speak so little?” Rafe stretched his neck from side to side. “I…didn’t really have anyone to speak with growing up. Not until I left for Harrow. So part habit.” And even then, Derek had been similar. Not nearly as tight-lipped as Rafe, but he equally enjoyed the silence.
“No friends here when you were younger? It’s unconventional, but my best chum is the village blacksmith’s younger brother. I mean, I talk to everyone. I’m the opposite. It’s hard to get me to shut my gob.”
“I’ve caught that,” Rafe said dryly.
Sebastian snickered. “Sarcastic arse.”
Amusement built in Rafe’s chest. But quickly died as his brother’s question resurfaced. “I learned very quickly that bad things came to those I cared for,” he said quietly. “It was safer for all involved for me to keep to myself.”
Silence fell heavily around them.
And in that silence, his mind drifted back to her, to the little girl he’d shared his cave with. Blond and bright-eyed, full of life. One day she’d disappeared. A part of him… A part of him feared he was the reason why. Did his father discover their friendship? Something unsettling slithered through his gut, and his chest tightened. Did he dispose of her just as he had Rafe’s mother?
His father had hated Rafe’s love of his mother. It’d made him soft. Affection for a woman? Absolutely not. Women were chattel. They were less than. And if you gave your affection to someone beneath you…you lowered yourself to their level.
