And with that, she lifted her skirts and ran. The cold droplets hit her skin like tiny needles, shocking and exhilarating all at once. The wind pulled at her bonnet, tugged loose tendrils of her hair free, and urged her forward like a mischievous accomplice. Mud splashed at her ankles, and laughter—unrestrained, unladylike, and entirely hers—bubbled up from her chest. For a moment, she wasn’t Lady Alexandra Peregrine, society’s most stubborn scandal-in-the-making—she was simply a girl dancing with the storm.
* * *
Magnus had just disengaged himself from Lady Honoria Worthington’s not-so-subtle questions about his intentions regarding a certain Peregrine sister when he saw a flash of silk dart across the lawn.
He stared.
There went Lady Alexandra, barreling through the field like a storm sprite.
Rain fell in earnest now, sending guests scurrying for shelter. Parasols turned inside out. Men shouted for carriages. Maids rushed to gather tablecloths and confections.
And still, Alexandra ran.
Magnus remained rooted for a heartbeat longer, caught between disbelief and a strange rush of admiration. Something about the way she moved—utterly unconcerned with the stares or the storm—made his chest tighten, as though he'd glimpsed something rare and unguarded.
Her laughter echoed faintly, bright and free. The sound punched through Magnus’s chest, unsettling in its purity. He felt something shift inside him, a taut ache blooming just beneath his ribs. Against his better judgment, he smiled—an instinctive, unguarded thing he hadn’t felt in years.
Without thinking, he gave chase. All their previous encounters had been playful, teasing, a game of words and wills. But this—this was different. There was something raw and unguarded in her laughter, something that called to a part of him he usually kept locked away. He ran, not just to reach her, but to hold onto that fleeting glimpse of something raw, something unbridled.
He followed her past the abandoned croquet lawn, over a small rise of hills, and into the wilder part of the estate garden, where manicured hedges gave way to untamed grass and ancient oaks. With each step, he wondered what it was that kept him running after her—not just in that moment, but in every encounter they'd shared. There was a recklessness to Alexandra that both unsettled and exhilarated him. She didn’t play by the rules, and somehow that made him want to learn every one of hers. Perhaps it was foolish, perhaps it was dangerous, but chasing her felt more honest than anything he'd done in years.
By the time he caught up, they were both thoroughly drenched.
"Are you mad?" he called, breathless.
She turned, cheeks flushed, hair curling wildly in the damp. "Possibly! But it is rather freeing, is it not?"
"Only you would find a thunderstorm freeing."
"It’s just rain, Langley. It washes away pretense."
He looked at her, standing there in the gray mist, her gown plastered to her legs, her eyes alight with something unnameable.
“You are incredible, do you know that?” He took a step closer.
She laughed, turning in a circle with arms outstretched. "I am wet and most certainly look a fright."
“Glorious. You look utterly radiant.”
They stood beneath the ancient oak as the storm fully descended, sheltering them from the worst of the rain. The leaves formed a canopy above them, dripping but protective. The scent of wet earth rose around them, mingling with the faint perfume clinging to Alexandra’s skin. Rain drummed softly on the leaves overhead, a muted rhythm that felt oddly intimate. Their bodies were inches apart, breath mingling in the cool mist, the warmth of their closeness a small defiance against the cold. The tree groaned gently in the wind, as if bearing witness to the moment suspended beneath its ancient limbs.
He stepped closer, though a flicker of hesitation crossed through his gaze.
She did not retreat. Every nerve in her body urged her to step back, to preserve the carefully constructed distance she always maintained. But she didn’t. Not this time.
"You chase storms," he said.
"You chase me.” She notched her chin up.
"And I’ll keep doing it."
A heartbeat passed.
Then another.
"Don’t kiss me," she whispered.
"Why not?” He leaned closer.
