Page 58

T he crescent moon charm sat in the center of Honoria’s palm, its delicate silver surface catching the dim candlelight. She had been holding it for what felt like hours, running her thumb over the tiny engraving, feeling its smooth, worn edges.

For the woman who already knows what she wants, even when she hesitates to claim it.

Reese’s words, scrawled in that single line of ink, lingered in her mind, refusing to fade.

She had told herself she would leave. She had planned it. She would pack her things, and the moment morning came, she would be gone. And yet.

Her fingers closed around the charm, gripping it as if holding it tighter would silence the storm inside her. Why had he sent it?

If this was just a fleeting romance, if all he had wanted was a summer diversion, why did he send her something that made her feel as if she had truly been seen?

With a frustrated breath, she pushed away from the writing desk and moved toward the window. The tide was rolling in, dark and restless beneath the storm-heavy sky.

She exhaled. She wasn’t ready to leave. Not yet.

Honoria barely noticed the strengthening wind as she walked down the narrow path leading to the beach. The sky had shifted to a deep, moody gray, the sea churning like her thoughts. The storm was coming, and she welcomed it.

She hadn’t come to Rosalynde Bay expecting to feel anything. To find freedom in anonymity. To find Reese.

And now she stood here, staring at the water, knowing she had been a coward. She wanted more. She always had. But wanting something, wanting someone, was terrifying when you had already lost before.

The first heavy droplets of rain hit the sand, dotting it like ink spills.

“I should have bought the charm myself,” she muttered.

“You still can.”

She spun, startled at the voice.

Reese stood a few paces away, his hands at his sides, his eyes unreadable in the fading light.

She swallowed, forcing her voice to steady. “Did you follow me?”

He tilted his head. “You were impossible to miss.” He said, his voice quieter this time. “You looked like a woman on a mission.”

The corner of her mouth lifted. “Maybe I am.”

A faint smile touched his lips, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Are you fighting me or yourself?”

The words struck something deep inside her. She opened her hand, revealing the charm. “Why?”

His gaze flickered to it, then back to her. “Because you hesitate,” he said simply. “And I wanted you to remember that you don’t have to.”

A gust of wind rushed past them, and she tightened her grip on the tiny silver moon.

“I was a fool,” she whispered. “To believe that I met a man who could simply be a man. That I wasn’t speaking with a duke who had responsibilities, obligations—”

“Don’t do that,” he said, voice low. “Don’t rewrite what we had.”

She inhaled sharply. “You let me fall for someone who wasn’t real.”

His expression hardened. “Everything I showed you was real.” His voice roughened. “Title or no title, that was real.”

Her breath caught.

“But you’re right,” he continued, his voice softer now. “I didn’t tell you. Because I wasn’t ready for what it meant.”

The rain fell harder, soaking the sand and dampening the air between them.

“And what does that mean?” She asked.

He stepped closer. “That I never wanted to be a duke. I am the second son and happy for it. My brother Edward will get the family title. But the king saw it differently. He gave me an honor that I could not refuse. A title I did not want.”

She stared at him.

He let out a slow breath, running a hand through his rain-damp hair. “Do you think I wanted to spend my life questioning whether people saw me or my title? I used Kenworth’s name because I wanted to be no one. Just for a while.” He exhaled. “And then I met you.”

Something tightened in her chest.

His gaze locked onto hers. “And suddenly, I wanted to be someone again. Someone to you.”

The wind howled, but neither of them moved.

His eyes flicked to the charm she still clutched in her palm.

“And you?” He asked, his voice quieter now. “Why didn’t you buy it yourself?”

She blinked, startled by the shift, her fingers curling around the silver moon. She could lie. She could tell him it didn’t matter. But it did.

“Because I hesitated,” she admitted, the words foreign on her tongue. “Because I always hesitate.”

His expression didn’t change, but something deepened in his gaze. “Then remember this,” he murmured. “You don’t have to.”

The words sent something through her, a shattering, a breaking open.

He didn’t push. He didn’t demand.

“Tell me to let you go, Honoria, and I will.”

Her throat closed. She tried, tried, to form the words. She couldn’t.

Her breath caught at the raw honesty in his voice. For all his command and calm, this admission cost him something. The wind lashed at her skirts, but it couldn’t tear away the truth. She didn’t want him to go. Not now. Not ever.

Instead, she surged forward, grabbing the lapels of his coat and pulling him down into a kiss.

The moment their lips met, she felt everything she had been trying to push away. The longing, the ache, the reckless desire to hold onto something had never felt more right.

His arms came around her, pulling her in, grounding her even as the storm raged. This wasn’t a delicate kiss, hesitant and uncertain. This was claiming. This was a certainty.

When they finally pulled apart, they were both breathless.

He rested his hand at the back of her neck, steady and warm, drawing her close without a word.

“Honoria—”

“Your Grace!”

The words sliced through the air like a blade.

She stiffened. The moment shattered.

Slowly, Reese turned. A man, a messenger from London, stood a few feet away, rain dripping from his coat.

Reese let out a slow exhale. Honoria braced herself. This was the moment he would leave. Instead, he turned back to her, eyes steady.

“Tell them I’ll return when I’m ready.”

The messenger hesitated, clearly not expecting that answer. But at Reese’s unwavering stare, he finally gave a stiff bow and disappeared.

Honoria swallowed hard. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs brushing over her cheekbones. “I know.”

She looked into his eyes, searching.

He had made his choice. Now, it was time for her to make hers.