Page 81

T he air on the terrace was crisp with the scent of the lake, laced with the distant smoke of lanterns flickering along the garden paths. Moonlight shimmered across Lake Winnamere, its surface smooth as glass, disturbed only by the gentle ripples of a summer breeze.

Eleanor’s breath came shallow as she stepped onto the terrace, her gloved fingers gripping the cold marble of the balustrade. The warmth and clamor of the ballroom felt worlds away, yet she knew she was not alone.

Footsteps. Measured, deliberate.

She didn’t need to turn to know who followed.

A deep voice, smooth as velvet yet edged with something unreadable, broke the silence.

“I hope you don’t mind, but I brought us some champagne.”

The hint of laughter in his voice made her grin.

She closed her eyes briefly before forcing herself to turn.

He stood so very close, framed by the golden glow spilling from the ballroom doors.

His black mask concealed part of his face, but it did nothing to hide the way his piercing gaze settled on her.

He held up the two flutes. “This is the first time I’ve been with you when you can drink champagne.”

A thousand emotions knotted inside her—resentment, disbelief, a quiet ache she had long thought buried. “Indeed, it is.” She took one of the flutes. “Tell me, Your Grace, do you make a habit of chasing after masked women at parties?”

A smirk ghosted across his lips. “Only the ones I once knew.”

Eleanor exhaled, pressing her back against the balustrade. “You have been gone five years. That’s a long time. I hope you don’t think I’m the same girl you left behind.”

Graham stepped closer, slow and deliberate. The moonlight cast silver against his raven-black hair, making the sharp planes of his face more pronounced.

“Do you assume I am the same man who left?”

She hated that her breath caught, hated that the space between them felt charged, alive with something neither of them had the courage to name. Quickly, she lifted the drink to her mouth and sipped, mainly to moisten her dry throat.

“Why are you here, Your Grace?” she finally asked, voice softer than she intended.

For a moment, he didn’t answer. His gaze flickered past her, out to the still waters of the lake. The quiet stretched between them, as if he were weighing his words, deciding how much of himself he was willing to give.

Then his eyes found hers again, steady and knowing.

“I had unfinished business.”

Her chest tightened. “With my brother?”

His gaze never wavered. “With you.”

A shiver danced down her spine, though she didn’t know if it was from the chill in the night air or the weight of his words.

“You left without saying goodbye,” she said, her voice betraying the smallest tremor.

A shadow passing over Graham’s expression. “I had my reasons.”

Anger stirred beneath the surface of her yearning. “Reasons you never thought to share?”

His jaw tensed, and for a moment, she thought he might offer her a real answer. But instead, he did something far more dangerous.

He took another step forward, closing the space between them until she could feel the warmth of him, the scent of sandalwood and something unmistakably him filling the air between them.

“Would you believe me,” he murmured, “if I said I regretted it?”

Eleanor swallowed hard. He was too close. Too close to forgetting the pain of his absence. Too close to remembering the way she had once looked at him before she knew better.

She forced herself to straighten, tilting her chin. “I’m not the girl who waited for you, Graham.”

A pause. A flicker of something lit his gaze. “No,” he said softly, “you’re not. But I never wanted you to wait. I only ever wanted—”

He stopped himself.

And in that moment, Eleanor dared hope that he had wanted her . That he had wanted her all this time. She had dreamed it for so long. She prayed she wasn’t imagining tonight… imagining this wonderful moment.

And now, after five years of silence, after time and distance had wedged itself between them—he was here.

Waiting.

For her? Or for what neither of them could name?

The music from the ballroom swelled behind them, a waltz haunting and sweet.

And against her better judgment, Eleanor wanted to be in his arms one more time. But if her father found her alone with Graham, all hell would break loose.

No, she must return inside. For both their sakes.

“We should go back inside,” she said softly, turning toward the open doors.