Eight
The skies above the Yorkshire countryside darkened ominously as Eden urged her mare forward beneath the weight of gathering storm clouds. What had begun as a crisp summer morning transformed swiftly into an afternoon of gathering unease. To Eden, the sudden shift mirrored the turmoil within her. Bright beginnings giving way to storm clouds of uncertainty, her chest tightening with every gust of wind, breath coming shallow as though the sky itself pressed down upon her. It reminded her of the garden, just days before, when she had dared to hope—hope that Gabriel’s presence meant a second chance, that something unspoken might finally bloom between them. That moment had felt like a dawn breaking open, and yet now, as rain closed in, it echoed the fragility of all that might be lost between them.
As the skies grew darker, so too did the sharp ache of longing and fear she had tried to silence. Eden glanced over her shoulder, anxiety prickling beneath her skin, her gaze searching the sodden landscape.
A flash of lightning ripped across the horizon, the heavens exploding in a distant roar of thunder. Eden’s breath caught. She had been seeking solace on this routine countryside ride, hoping the rhythm of hooves and open air would quiet the ache that had lingered since their kiss in the maze—an ache of longing, fear, and something dangerously close to hope. But now, every drop of rain and clap of thunder seemed to echo her own restless heart. She guided Willow along a familiar track, hedgerows bowing under the sudden downpour. The path twisted through the fields where she had galloped as a girl, wind in her hair, laughter rising with every hoofbeat. Those carefree days felt a lifetime away, but the rhythm of the trail brought them back in flashes—like the summer morning she had stolen a ride without permission, galloping over the moors until her bonnet flew free and her governess shrieked in dismay. Glimpses of a simpler self, untouched by longing or fear. Today, though, that memory carried weight, a bittersweet ache that mingled with the rain against her skin.
Gabriel spurred his mount forward, driving back fear with determination—the fear of losing Eden to doubt, to the storm, or to the space he had let grow between them. It was not only the storm that drove him, though the sight of Eden ahead, her form blurred by rain, was urgency enough. No, it was the silence from the night before, the look in her eyes when he had pulled away. He was chasing more than her trail. He was chasing the distance he had placed between them, the truth he had tried to bury beneath duty. With each pounding stride, the thunder rolled above, a low rumble that only intensified the pressure building in his chest, his heart torn between honor and the raw ache of longing that refused to be silenced any longer. “Eden!” he called through the driving rain. His voice carried across the fields, urgent and concerned. “We must find shelter!”
She turned in her saddle, meeting his gaze. His face was tense, the rain plastering curls to his forehead. “I know of an old hunting lodge not far from here,” she shouted back, pointing through the downpour to a dark silhouette beneath a stand of pines.
Within moments, they veered off the main path, plunging into the tree line as rain lashed their faces. Branches whipped overhead, the world streaked past in green and grey, the wind sharp on her cheeks as hooves pounded beneath her. Eden’s knuckles turned white on the reins as she guided Willow along a narrow deer track, heart pounding in her ears.
Finally, the outline of the hunting lodge emerged through the trees. Eden spurred Willow forward, and Gabriel was at her side in an instant. The roof sagged slightly under the weight of age and rain, and ivy curled like fingers across the shutters. To Eden, it looked like a forgotten refuge, stubborn, solid, and enduring. It conjured memories of stories told by the hearth. Tales of bravery and fate whispered by firelight, but now those echoes mingled with the uncertainty clutching at her heart. Eden felt something deeper. Something fated. There was a stirring familiarity in the lodge’s weathered timbers, a sense that she had been meant to come here, to this very place, with him. Perhaps it was the echo of childhood tales or the quiet certainty that some moments—like some people—were destined to cross paths no matter how the world turned.
Together, they dismounted, drenched and shivering, as thunder rolled overhead. They led their horses to stalls in the back and settled them, then moved to the entrance of the lodge. Gabriel kicked at the heavy wooden door, prying it open with sudden force. The interior was dank and dimly lit, but dry. A welcome refuge from the storm. The scent of old pine and damp stone hung in the air, mingling with the faint, lingering smokiness of fires long past. Shadows loomed in the corners, and their boots echoed dully on the uneven flagstone floor. The walls were rough-hewn logs beaded with moisture, and cobwebs clung to the rafters like forgotten lace. Eden paused just inside, the shift from chaos to stillness washing over her in a wave that left her trembling. The lodge felt abandoned and expectant all at once, like a place waiting to hold a secret—hers and Gabriel’s.
Gabriel shook the rain from his shoulders. Water dripped from his dark coat, pooling at his boots. Eden turned, heart stirring at the sight of him—rain dripping from his lashes, his shoulders tense beneath his soaked coat, vulnerability etched in the set of his jaw, yet his gaze unwavering, resolute. She found herself involuntarily stepping closer, the familiar scent of hay and damp leather grounding her in the moment, evoking memories of stables and simpler days, calming the frantic beat of her heart even as her pulse quickened at his nearness.
He lit a pair of lanterns, the scent of old wax and smoke curling into the air as the shadows retreated. The dim lodge took on a golden glow, its rough timbers and stacked firewood suddenly softened by the flickering light. Gabriel paused, watching how the warm glow danced across Eden’s face before setting the lanterns on a table beside the firewood. He gathered sticks and kindling, his long fingers adept as he struck flint to spark a flame. Eden watched him with a quiet intensity, her gaze tracing the familiar precision of his movements. Something about the way he focused, steady and sure, stirred in her the ache of recognition and longing. Eden watched, her pulse quickening, as the fire caught.
Gabriel’s eyes held a mixture of relief, and something gentler as he turned to her. He shifted slightly, shoulders relaxing as though the weight of the ride and the distance between them had just begun to ease. A soft breath escaped him, his gaze lingering on her face with quiet reverence. “Thank you for knowing this place,” he said softly, voice husky with exertion. “I would have been lost in the storm without you.”
Eden hesitated, voice trembling. A storm still raged within her, one born not of rain and wind but of doubt and yearning. She feared the truth trembling on her lips. Her throat tightened, and she curled her fingers against her skirts in a futile attempt to still their trembling. “I…was frightened. I thought we might be trapped out there.” She brushed a wet strand of hair behind her ear, meeting his gaze.
He closed the final gap between them. “I am glad you are safe, Eden.” His voice was intimate, his green eyes bright in the firelight.
The thunder rumbled again, closer now, rattling the roof beams. She shivered, and Gabriel moved to drape his coat over her shoulders. The fabric was heavy but warm, and Eden pressed into him, relief and gratitude flooding her senses.
They settled on a pair of wooden stools near the hearth, the contrast between the howling storm outside and the crackling fire inside casting a hush over them. Eden felt the silence wrap around them like a velvet curtain, heightening her awareness of the nearness of Gabriel—his breath, his heat, the flicker of firelight dancing across his profile. It was as though time had paused just for them, the fury beyond the lodge walls replaced by a charged stillness that left her breathless, watching the fire’s dance. The storm’s fury pounded the roof, every gust of wind a reminder of the world beyond their sanctuary.
Gabriel’s gaze softened as he studied Eden. He noticed the way her damp hair clung to her cheeks, her eyes wide and searching, mirroring the same mixture of vulnerability and bravery she had shown the night they’d danced in the garden. “You must be cold,” he murmured, concern etching his features.
She nodded, drawing his coat tighter around her. “I am all right. But the storm… it unsettles me.”
He leaned forward, gathering more firewood. “Storms have a way of stirring the heart,” he said quietly as he fed logs to the flames.
Eden’s pulse quickened at the intimate setting. Firelight, rain, and the solidity of Gabriel beside her. “Yes,” she whispered, turning from the fire to face him fully. “They remind me of how small one is against nature.” Her voice wavered. “And how fleeting peace can be,” she said, the words echoing the stillness of the garden where moonlight and jasmine had once wrapped around them like a forgotten promise. She was not only thinking of the storm or the world outside, but of the hush in the garden, when moonlight dappled the hedges and Gabriel’s voice had trembled with emotion. The scent of jasmine and the rustle of leaves had seemed to pause time, just as the firelight and rain did now. That fragile stillness had felt like stolen magic—brief, beautiful, and impossible to keep, the stolen moments that bloomed and vanished like breath on a mirror. In Gabriel’s presence, peace was no longer an absence of chaos, but a feeling she feared she would not be allowed to keep.
Gabriel set aside the wood and rose, walking to stand close at Eden’s side. The firelight illuminated his damp features, highlighting the tension in his jaw. “Peace is worth fighting for,” he said, eyes locking onto hers. “Especially when it is found in rare moments.”
His words hung between them, charged with unspoken longing. Eden’s breath caught, and she reached for his hand. His skin was warm against hers despite the chill in the lodge.
“Gabriel…” she said, voice soft. “Last night in the maze, I felt…” She closed her eyes, struggling to articulate the swirl of emotions within. A flash of the maze returned to her—the scent of roses on the night breeze, the feel of Gabriel’s hand finding hers in the dark, the aching awareness that something irreversible had shifted between them. That moment had lit a spark, and now, in the dim firelight of the lodge, it threatened to become a blaze she could no longer contain. “I felt a connection I have never known.”
He shifted closer, fingertips tracing her knuckles. “I felt it too,” he admitted, voice low and raw. “But I withdrew because of my promise to Thomas and the responsibilities I bear.”
Eden opened her eyes, gazing up at him, her fingers trembling where they rested against his chest, her breath catching in her throat as she leaned ever so slightly into him. “I understand duty, Gabriel. But must it always triumph over the heart?”
He stared at her, conflict flickering across his features. Eden’s heart hammered as she waited for his response.
Gabriel exhaled, moving even closer so that their bodies almost touched. His hand drifted from hers to her face, brushing her cheek with a tenderness that made her pulse race. “I do not want to hurt you,” he whispered. “But I cannot deny what I feel.”
Eden’s breath caught. “Then do not,” she urged, voice trembling with emotion.
A moment stretched, the air thick with anticipation. Then, suddenly, Gabriel closed the distance. For a heartbeat, he hesitated—his breath shallow, his hand trembling. The fire crackled behind them, thunder grumbled in the distance, but within him surged a tide of emotion too potent to restrain. He captured her lips in a searing kiss, all restraint unraveling in the heat of that contact. Eden melted into him, her arms encircling his neck as she responded with equal fervor.
The kiss was fierce. An eruption of passion, igniting the quiet ache they had both harbored into something undeniable. Gabriel’s fingers tangled in her hair, pulling her closer as he tasted the sweetness of her. Eden’s senses swam with fire and longing. The world outside—the storm, the darkness—no longer mattered.
