Page 191 of Dare to Love Me

I blink—once, twice, maybe three times. Maybe I’ve finally cracked and this is some sort of hallucination.

Mum grips my arm, her breath coming fast. “Daisy, that’s—?”

“—Edward?” I croak, voice barely working. “Yes. That’s Edward. Driving afucking carriage.”

And he’s comingfast. Not just driving—oh no, Edward’s full-onbombingit down the gravel like he’s starring in the world’s most deranged installment ofFast and Furious: The Aristocrat Edition.

The horses are galloping full-speed, wheels rattling against the uneven gravel, the entire thing swaying dangerously as Edward yanks on the reins.

Mum lets out a choked little gargle. “What’s he . . . What’s hedoing?”

I have no answers. Only pure, unfiltered chaos barreling straight for me at approximately sixty miles per hour.

Then—movement. Off to the side. Something big. Somethingfast. A blur of white feathers.

“Ohshit.” I gasp.

The ostrich. Thebloody ostrich.

It’s charging the carriage like it’s got a personal grudge, legs pumping, feathers flouncing.

Edward hasn’t clocked it yet, but the horses have. And they are not impressed.

Richard bursts out from behind the bird, arms windmilling. “Get back, you daft—!”

Too late. The horses lose it. Hooves thrash, rearing up.

Edward yanks hard on the reins, his whole body straining like he’s trying to parallel park the damn Titanic. His jaw is clenched, muscles locked—but it’s too late. This train’s off the rails.

The carriage swerves. Hard left. Right toward—

Mum’s hand flies to her mouth. “The lake.”

My heart forgets how to beat.

Because Edward is about to drive awedding carriagestraight into the goddamnlake.

My feet move before my brain catches up. I shove open the front door, stumbling down the steps, my heart slamming against my ribs. “Edward!”

Nothing snaps you out of a pity party quite like watching the man who broke your heart about to drive a wedding carriage into a body of water.

The wheels hit the embankment at a godawful angle, and the whole thing tips like a slow-mo disaster flick. Then—splash. A lake-sized explosion of water, soaking everything in a ten-foot blast zone.

Mum lets out an unholy squeak beside me.

I slap my hands over my mouth, frozen in absolute shock. The horses tear off in all directions, galloping out of the water.

For a long, terrible second, there’s nothing.

Then—

From the depths of the water, he breaks the surface, water streaming off him.

His strong jaw clenches as he shakes the lake from his face. His white dress shirt’s soaked through, clinging to his chest like it’s been painted on, showing off every muscle.

He rakes a hand through his wet, messy hair, shoving it back from his forehead, and sweet Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, it’s like watching some forbidden hybrid of Mr. Darcy and a David Gandy for Marks & Spencer underwear advert.

His eyes snap to mine.