“It’s beautiful here,” Camille said softly, her voice cutting through his brooding thoughts.
She wore a yellow sundress that made her skin glow like honey in the morning light, and despite everything, his lion purred with satisfaction at having her here, in his territory, surrounded by the scents and sounds of home.
“Wait until you see the main house,” he replied, forcing warmth into his tone as they rounded the final curve.
The estate sprawled before them—three stories of weathered stone and climbing ivy, wraparound porches that had witnessed generations of Drake family gatherings, and windows that caught the light like welcoming eyes.
His mother stood on the front porch in a flowing light blue summer dress, her silver-streaked hair caught in the gentle breeze. Even from this distance, he could see her smile, and something tight in his chest loosened slightly. She’d sensed their arrival from miles away—lion mothers always did—and her presence grounded him in a way nothing else could.
Leander parked near the front steps and moved around to open Camille’s door, his hand finding the small of her back as she stepped out. The contact sent familiar electricity racing through his system, and he had to resist the urge to pull her closer.
“Leander!” His mother’s voice carried across the space between them, warm and delighted.
She descended the porch steps with graceful energy, and he found himself grinning despite the emotional turmoil of the past twenty-four hours.
He caught his mother in a fierce embrace, breathing in the familiar scent of lavender and home that had comforted him through childhood nightmares and teenage heartbreaks. When had he last visited? Three months? Four? Too long, clearly, judging by the way she clung to him.
“I’ve missed you,” she whispered against his shoulder, and the simple honesty of it made his throat tight.
“I’ve missed you too, Mother.” He pulled back to study her face, noting the new lines around her eyes but the same sharp intelligence that had guided him through his father’s death and the aftermath. “You look wonderful.”
“Are you trying to butter me up?” She swatted his arm playfully before turning to Camille with genuine warmth.
Without hesitation, she enveloped Camille in a welcoming hug. Camille’s surprise was evident in the way she stiffened slightly before melting into the embrace—clearly not used to such immediate affection from parental figures. The contrast to her own cold parents made Leander’s protective instincts flare with dangerous intensity.
“It’s so wonderful to meet you, dear,” his mother said, pulling back to study Camille with approving eyes. “And lovely to finally see the woman who’s made my stubborn son realize it’s time to stop being Manhattan’s most eligible bachelor and start thinking about settling down.”
Heat crept up Leander’s neck as he retrieved their luggage. “Mother?—”
“What? I’m simply stating facts.” Her eyes danced with mischief as she led them toward the house. “Do you know how many high society mothers have tried to introduce him to theirdaughters over the years? I was beginning to think he was immune to romance entirely.”
The interior of the house wrapped around them like a warm embrace—polished hardwood floors that had been worn smooth by generations of bare feet, built-in bookshelves that reached toward coffered ceilings, and furniture that prioritized comfort over fashion. Leander watched Camille’s architect’s eye take in the details: the way natural light flowed through strategically placed windows, the seamless blend of formal and casual spaces, and the bones of a structure built to nurture rather than impress.
“This place is incredible,” she breathed, running her fingers along the carved banister of the main staircase. “The craftsmanship, the proportions—it’s like stepping into a living piece of history.”
Pride swelled in Leander’s chest. This house had shaped his love of architecture and had shown him how spaces could tell stories and shelter souls at the same time. Seeing Camille appreciate it felt like sharing a piece of his heart.
“I made lunch for the veranda,” his mother announced, leading them through the sun-drenched great room toward the back of the house. “It’s such a gorgeous day, and the view of the bay is spectacular right now.”
The veranda stretched along the entire back of the house, furnished with weathered teak and cushions in faded blues and whites that echoed the water beyond. Lunch had been arranged on a glass table with the kind of casual perfection that only came from years of practice—fresh salads, grilled vegetables, and what looked like his mother’s famous herb-crusted salmon.
“This is magnificent,” Camille said as they settled into their chairs. “The timing, the presentation—you must have known exactly when we’d arrive.”
“Lion mothers have their ways,” his mother replied with a knowing smile. “Plus, Leander’s always been predictably punctual. Some things never change.”
Camille laughed, but there was something wistful in the sound. “It’s nice to see such genuine care between family members. The attention to detail, the way you’ve thought about our comfort—it’s refreshing.”
The observation landed like a physical blow to Leander’s solar plexus. Her wonder at basic parental warmth spoke volumes about the emotional neglect she’d grown up with, and his lion rumbled with protective fury at the St. James family’s callous treatment of their extraordinary daughter.
His mother’s expression softened with understanding. “Well, you’re part of the family now, dear. This is a place of love and warmth, and you should always feel at home here.”
“Absolutely,” Leander added. “We value each other here. That includes all pride members. You’ll fit right in, and everyone will grow to love you as much as I—” He caught himself before the complete confession could slip out, but the implication hung in the air between them.
Camille’s blue eyes widened slightly, hope and vulnerability warring in their depths. She looked overwhelmed but not frightened—as if she was daring to believe that this kind of acceptance might actually be possible for her.
“Why don’t you show Camille around the pride lands after lunch?” his mother suggested with the subtle wisdom that had guided him through countless life decisions. “The weather’s perfect for walking, and I’m sure she’d love to see the territory. I’ll give you two some space to enjoy each other’s company.”
Gratitude flooded through Leander at his mother’s intuitive understanding. Time alone with Camille on these quiet familiar lands might give him the courage to finally tear down some of the walls he’d built so carefully.
