Gabriel chuckled softly, though his eyes remained serious. There was something unsaid behind the humor. A tension at the corners of his mouth and storm in his eyes. Whatever lingered behind his gaze, he held it back. “Duty again, Eden. Blackstone Manor is my responsibility, and running from it solves nothing.”
She tilted her head slightly, regarding him thoughtfully. “And your heart, Gabriel? Does it remain guarded?”
His gaze dropped briefly to her hand, still resting on his arm, warmth radiating from the simple contact. When he raised his eyes again, they held an intensity that made her heart flutter. “It tries, but moments like this test it greatly.”
Her breath caught at his words, her pulse quickening. “Perhaps your heart needs less guarding and more freedom to feel.”
Gabriel’s expression softened further, his voice lowering to a near whisper. “That would be dangerous, Eden.”
“Perhaps,” she agreed quietly, heart racing. “But is not the greater risk in never feeling at all?”
Their gazes held, the tension between them thickening. He raised his hand slowly, gently brushing a stray curl from her cheek, fingers lingering tenderly. “You tempt me greatly,” he admitted softly.
Eden leaned subtly into his touch, eyes fluttering shut. “Yet, you resist.”
“I promised your brother,” Gabriel murmured, his voice thick with restraint. “I vowed to leave you untouched.”
Disappointment and understanding warred within Eden’s heart. Reluctantly, she opened her eyes, meeting his gaze. “Then perhaps we must tread carefully,” she whispered, though her heart silently wished he would contradict her, that he would throw caution to the wind and take her in his arms. She saw the flicker in his gaze—a fleeting regret, or perhaps a longing he dared not voice.
What was wrong with her? To give in to her feelings would mean exposing the most vulnerable parts of herself, offering trust where she had long relied on caution. If they took a step too far, it would not only be her heart that shattered, but the carefully constructed world she had fought to uphold.
“Indeed,” Gabriel agreed gently, though his eyes burned with unresolved longing.
Silence settled once more between them, each keenly aware of the invisible barrier standing between their hearts. The lake’s still surface mirrored their restraint, its glassy calm belying the deep currents of longing and hesitation swirling just beneath.
Yet, as Eden stared out at the tranquil lake, hope stirred faintly within her, daring her to imagine a future in which they might walk through those fields hand in hand, laughter chasing behind them, where she could stand beside him not only as a friend but as something far more cherished.
As the sun climbed higher in the sky, they eventually rose. Gabriel lifted Eden into her saddle, his hands lingering on her waist. Her heart fluttered, the worn leather saddle warm beneath her palms, its familiar creak grounding her swirling emotions. She cast one last lingering glance toward Gabriel, who watched her thoughtfully, her heart whispering questions she dared not voice.
And as she rode back toward Thornton Hall, Eden’s heart was both lighter and heavier, as if hope and inevitability tugged in opposite directions within her. The quiet ache of longing had shifted into something sharper. Something more dangerous. She could no longer pretend her feelings for Gabriel were harmless or passing. They were real, and they were growing stronger with each shared moment.
Four
Lanterns cast a soft glow over the expansive gardens at Thornton Hall, bathing the grounds in an enchanting light. A delicate hint of jasmine hung in the air, blending with the evening’s chill. Gentle laughter and lilting music floated from the grand terrace, blending effortlessly with the hushed whispers of evening insects. Eden moved through the festivities with practiced ease, her smile warm, even as her thoughts remained elsewhere.
She exchanged greetings and offered practiced smiles to acquaintances who passed by, but her responses felt distant, automatic. As she passed Lady Marchwell recounting the same tiresome anecdote about her garden maze, Eden’s gaze drifted toward the empty space by the fountain where Gabriel had stood earlier that evening.
The weight of expectation pressed lightly on her shoulders. The expectations of her family, of society, and perhaps even her own need to appear composed and unshakable. Yet the fluttering anticipation coiling low in her stomach spoke of more than excitement. It was a delicate mix of hope that she might see Gabriel again and fear that he might remain a distant memory. It reminded her of another night, years ago, when she had slipped away from a similar gathering to stand beneath the stars, alone and aching for something unnamed. She had clutched her shawl tightly around her shoulders, staring up at the heavens and wondering if there was more to life than duty and polite smiles.
Was it freedom she sought? Or perhaps the wild, heady rush of love, the kind she had only read about in novels and dared not dream for herself.
She remembered imagining a world where she could chase stars instead of expectations, where she might choose her own fate rather than follow the one carefully laid before her. In that starlit solitude, she had felt something awaken. A quiet hunger for meaning, for passion, for a life fully lived. Back then, it had been nothing more than a distant ache. Now, with Gabriel’s return, that yearning had shape and focus. Her sense of purpose had shifted from vague rebellion to something deeply personal. A longing not just for freedom, but for him.
That old yearning, once vague and unformed, had returned tonight with a name, a voice, and eyes that saw straight through her.
Gabriel.
Tonight, she knew exactly what she sought—and who.
The soft rustle of silk gowns and clinking of crystal goblets swirled around her, but they faded into the background, mere echoes against the storm of anticipation stirring within her.
She knew Gabriel had arrived. She had glimpsed him, exchanging pleasantries with Thomas and Mother, but he had vanished shortly afterward. The moment had caught her off guard. Her breath had hitched at the mere sight of him, and before she could gather the courage to approach, he had disappeared into the crowd.
Disappointment curled low in her chest, mingling with a longing she could neither name nor deny. His absence felt significant, a subtle but constant ache beneath the surface of her practiced smile. She had found herself scanning the crowd more often than she cared to admit, her laughter slightly forced, her attention drifting during conversation. The void he left was not loud, but it tugged at her awareness, reminding her that something, someone, was missing.
Unable to suppress her restlessness, Eden discreetly withdrew from the party, a tightness coiling in her chest with each step. She slipped down the narrow garden path toward the secluded pond at the estate’s far edge, her breath coming shallow and quick in the quiet night. The moonlight spilled generously over the water, silver ripples spreading softly in the evening breeze, as though echoing the quiet unrest stirring in her chest. She paused, startled by the familiar, solitary figure standing silently by the water’s edge.
Gabriel turned slightly, acknowledging her presence without surprise. A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes—relief, perhaps, or anticipation held too long—before he schooled his features into calm.
