And as the laughter faded into soft breaths between them, Sebastian reached out and—without thinking, perhaps—rested his hand on her shoulder.
It was light. Barely there. But warm. Steady. Intimate.
Maddie turned her face toward him, and the gesture undid her. His fingers on her shoulder, his laughter lingering in the air, the way his mouth was still slightly parted. It was too much. And not enough.
Her heart swelled so suddenly she thought it might crack.
He was so lovely.
Did he even know? If not, she would tell him. Someday.
When she could breathe again.
*
The fire inthe brewery had burned low, casting a faint amber halo over the stone floor. Shadows clung to the barrels, stretched across the worktable like fingers. The scent of scorched grain and sweet malt lingered in the air, and Sebastian sat at the edge of it all, hunched over a tankard with the same brooding silence he’d worn since she left for her chambers. How long ago was it? Two hours? More?
He wasn’t taste-testing anything. He wasn’t brewing. He was drinking.
Drinking too much.
Not enough to dull everything, but just enough to take the edge off the ache that had started earlier that day, the ache that had Maddie’s name carved into it like a secret confession.
The door creaked behind him, and he didn’t look up.
“You’re a long way from your bed,” Thomas said, his voice low with casual mischief as he stepped inside, shaking snow from his boots. “Planning to drown the remaining fever in brandy, are we?”
Sebastian said nothing. Just tipped the tankard to his lips and swallowed.
Thomas didn’t press. Not at first. He crossed the room slowly, the way a man does when he’s walked in on something delicate.
“Let me guess,” he said finally. “Thisisn’t about the flu. Or the brandy. This is about a woman.”
Sebastian snorted, but without heat. “You’re insufferable.”
“True,” Thomas said lightly, dragging out a stool. “But I’m also right. The house is full of them since Ashley brought her friends here for our wedding. Girls, dresses, feathers, pearls. Soon they’ll paint the halls pink and put lace on the saddles of my horses.”
Silence.
Sebastian stared at the fire like it might offer absolution. It didn’t.
“She almost kissed me,” he said quietly.
“Who?” Thomas blinked. “Almost?”
Sebastian nodded. “I didn’t let it happen.”
A pause. Then, “Why not?”
Sebastian’s grip tightened on the tankard. “Because Paisley was there. Watching. Smirking like the bastard he is. Maddie’s mother seems to like him. She might, too. A little.”
And the moment shattered.
Because of Paisley, yes, but not just him.
Sebastian had seen it in her eyes. That bare flicker of longing. Of trust. And it had near undone him. He could have kissed her. Saints, he’d wanted to. His whole body had leaned into it, had ached for it. One breath more and he’d have felt her lips against his. And maybe she’d have kissed him back. Maybe she would’ve let him pull her closer, bury his fingers in her hair, taste the softness of her mouth.
But what if she regretted it afterward? What if the spell broke and all she saw was another man who wanted something from her?
