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“That’s kind of you, but I don’t think Mama would much like that.” Emily waved to her mother, who hurriedly began to climb the stone steps, though she was giving her daughter a pointed glare.

“I’m sure Mrs. Corning will forgive me, as it would be ungentlemanly to leave you. Besides, I think you are in want of some company.” His smirk melted into a genuine smile and a shudder went through Emily’s bones. Not one to miss any detail, Gregory frowned. “Are you cold?”

“No, just sad, I suppose.” Emily paused, disheartened. “I’m sorry, Gregory, I’m not very good company at the moment.”

She waited for Gregory to say something of comfort, but when he didn’t she glanced up and saw a strained expression.

The same one he had given her the night before and it made her curious.

Gregory’s letters had been so dry and informative about his and his brother’s dealings, but he never spoke of anything pertaining to her relationship with Allister.

Perhaps he was upset that she hadn’t confided in him.

“Is everything all right, Gregory?”

“Of course. Why do you ask?”

“Well, it’s just that I was worried that, well…” She dipped her chin but glanced back up when Gregory took a step in her direction.

“What?”

“That, perhaps you don’t approve of my correspondence with your brother.”

“No, Emily, that’s not—”

“I would understand, of course. I’ve often thought that it might appear as though I’ve betrayed our friendship.”

“I don’t think that at all, Emily. Believe me.”

“Then what is it? There’s something different about you.” Emily brushed her fingers against Gregory’s stubbled chin, but the gesture instantly felt inappropriate and she dropped her hand at once. Gregory seemed momentarily frozen. “More than just your appearance, I mean.”

He gazed down at her and Emily felt exposed beneath the heat in his eyes.

“Emily, I have to tell you something, but I fear you will be angry at me. Frankly, I’m mad at myself, but I’m at a loss and I think… I think you may not be able to forgive me for what I’m about to tell you.”

Emily smiled assuringly.

“Gregory, there are few people who I would forgive anything, but you are one of them. You have always been my dearest friend.” He sighed as his broad shoulders slumped and Emily took a step forward, placing her hand on his forearm measuredly. “I promise, I shan’t hold anything you say against you.”

He stared at her for a long moment before he spoke, and when he did, his words were slow and heavy.

“I only hope you will find it in your precious heart to forgive me…”

“But of course I…”

Emily’s mind trailed off at his last words. They were simple and fitting, yet Emily had read them over and over again, so much so that the familiarity of those words was burned into her brain. Those were the last words Allister had written her.

Her eyes snapped to Gregory’s, who was staring at her so intently that she felt no amount of rain could subdue the heat that crawled over her skin. It wasn’t possible.

Was it?

Unsure, Emily’s hand dropped from his arm.

“Gregory—”

“ Have the days ever been so long now that you are away? It seems impossible considering an hour is still an hour, but I’m sure they are doubly long now that you are so far away. Yet, while the days drag on, the nights are now wholly unbearable …”

Her heart dropped into her stomach. He was reciting her own words. Words she had written to Allister.

“A-Allister showed you my letters?” she stuttered.

“No. He didn’t.”

“But then how…”

Gregory’s hand scooped hers up, gently, as if he were trying to catch a falling petal off a rose. She gazed up at him, heart pounding.

“You’ve been misled, Emily. I’ve lied to you these past eight months.” He took a deep breath. “It wasn’t Allister you were writing to all this time. It was me.”

He spoke in her own language, yet she couldn’t understand his words. What did he mean, he had been writing her, not Allister? She could only stare at him, mouth slightly agape as she tried to comprehend his words.

“It was… No. No.” She laughed before the humor from her voice dropped and she stared at him. “No, Gregory, you’re teasing me.”

“I’m not.”

“Then you are mistaken.”

“No, Emily. It’s the truth.”

“But every letter… Every letter I received was signed with an A, for Allister.”

“Not Allister. I signed it A, for Ashley.”

“But, but,” she repeated, more forcefully, taking a step back as her hand fell from his. “You wrote me, Gregory. All the while—”

“I wrote two sets of letters. One as myself, as the man you’ve known all these years, and the other set as the man I never felt brave enough to share.

When Allister ignored your letters, I felt obligated to write you as him, so to spare your feelings, but in doing so I realized my own feelings for you. ”

“He refused to write me?” she said, the air instantly knocked out of her lungs as the word obligation hung in the air. She was nothing more than a compulsion? “And you… You wrote to me out of pity?” He stepped towards her, but she held her hand up to stop him. “I… I am mortified.”

“No, Emily. It is I who am mortified. I lied to you and deceived you. I’ve behaved poorly and have betrayed your trust.”

“This is a very cruel jest, Gregory.” She shook her head. “Why are you telling me this?”

He moved past her feeble attempt to stop him and put his large hands on her shoulders. The warmth from his fingers seeped into her skin and she shivered beneath his touch.

“Because it’s the truth.”

“How do I know you didn’t… Didn’t find my letters to Allister and decided, for some wicked reason, to mock me into an early grave?”

“Because I know my own words as well as yours. Do you remember when I compared you to a storm? The absence of your voice, your quiet companionship, and your grace have ruined me for all good company. I’ve tried for days to put you out of my mind …”

“… but like a storm on the horizon, it cannot be helped, nor can I. I am washed in memories of your smile, of any time your hand touched mine .” Emily closed her eyes tightly and swallowed. “Oh dear.”

A rush of hot shame wrapped around Emily as his words sank in. She had been dreaming and fantasizing about Allister for months, believing him to be in love with her but in actuality, Gregory had been the one to send her letters so devastating and lovely that she had all but fallen in love with—

No! Oh goodness no, this wouldn’t do at all.

Gregory was her friend, her oldest and dearest friend and while he had filled out somewhat since his trip, his body slightly thicker, his shoulders somehow rounder, and his hair a touch longer, she couldn’t reconcile it in her head.

Yes, his whiskers were now full and black, creating a stark contrast to his blue eyes, making him look like some dashing adventurer, but still, he was Gregory.

The person who helped her overcome her fear of riding a horse one summer by leading her mare over miles of open fields.

The person who would sit next to her for hours in silence while they read books, only to roll his eyes whenever she tried to pull him out of his endless tomes.

He was annoyed by her. Irritated by her endless interruptions, wasn’t he? He had said as much and she had brushed it off as nonsense because they were friends.

Or at least, they had been.

Gregory was watching her, waiting for her to say something, but what could she say?

“Please, Emily.” Another crack of thunder boomed above them, causing her to flinch, but he was steady.

“Please what? How can I… I thought that… That we were, well, not we, but that Allister and I were…” She let a humiliated laugh escape her lips as she covered her mouth. “Oh, I am such a fool.”

Gregory’s large hand came up and peeled her fingers away, pulling her gently towards him.

“It is I who am a fool, Emily. I was so enamored with the idea of speaking to you freely as someone else, that I hid behind my own cowardice.”

She swayed her weight slowly from foot to foot. The man who wrote her those letters was a man of passion, and a man of worth, and she loved him, despite him being a completely different person than who she thought he was. But this mess was almost too much for her.

“It’s too strange,” she said, her gaze on his face. “How can I reconcile that the man who wrote me those letters is you?”

“If you’d let me,” he said slowly, lifting her hand up to his mouth, “I’d like to try.”

With a tentative lean, Gregory’s body, suddenly all the more visceral and real, crowded her.

Pinpricks spread over her skin as she anticipated his touch, causing her to shiver.

He pressed his mouth into her palm and her fingertips gently scraped against his beard.

Emily exhaled shakily. Her heart beat erratically as her eyes fluttered shut at the feel of it.

But then he slowly pulled her hand away and leaned forward.

Though she tilted her head back instinctively, she waited, half hesitant, half desperate, and she was stunned the moment their mouths touched.

It wasn’t like how she had dreamt it. There weren’t bells or whistles or fireworks.

It was so much more primeval, heavier. The scent of Gregory’s skin, somehow windswept and mossy, unlocked a memory of the two of them climbing over a creek years ago.

It was familiar, warm, and real. The weight of his hand on her waist as he pulled her close only seemed to enflame her desire to be held by him.

Emily noted the trepidation with which he touched her.

He hesitated before his other hand came up to touch her cheek, almost as if he were nervous to do so.

Gregory’s fingers brushed against her jaw, trailing down her neck and then back up to the side of her head.

He bent his head down and the instant she tasted his lips, she felt her core melt.

His tongue swept into her mouth and the shock of it was only dampened by her own eagerness. He kissed her with such reverence, that she wondered how she had never once thought about him in a romantic way. It was kismet. Nothing had ever felt more natural.

Her hands went to his shoulders, big and solid beneath her fingers as she gripped his coat, refusing to let him go or pull away as he continued to handle her with the gentlest of touches. Like she were a piece of blown glass.

This was what she had dreamt about, what she had hoped for.

Strong, warm hands moved their way around her waist, holding her close.

To her shock, he lifted her up and gently pressed her back against the wall of the limestone arch as his fingers moved across her ribcage, beneath her breast. Emily hissed involuntarily as he palmed the side of her breast, his thumb gently teasing her nipple beneath the thin fabric of her gown.

Emily exhaled. Lost in a sensation of excitement, horror, and some unknown growing urgency, she tried to think clearly, but it was impossible.

Gregory’s fingers hooked into the neckline of her dress and tugged it down, exposing her bare flesh to the sea air, but not for long.

His mouth was on her instantly, as he lapped and licked the bud of her breast, sending shockwaves through her body.

“Greg-Gregory,” she breathed into the top of his dark hair.

Her arms wrapped around his head as he held her, pinned to the rock wall.

All too soon, his hand fell away from her breast, trailing down her stomach and lower.

All over Emily felt heat and yearning. It was like an itch she couldn’t quite understand how to scratch until she felt the weight of his hand press against the spot between her legs.

“I’ve been tormented for months by thoughts of holding you. Touching you. Tasting you.”

His words were like fuel to the fire that burned within her.

Even over the fabric of her gown, Emily knew instinctively that his touch was right.

It was like a part of her had been missing all her life, only to be discovered within Gregory.

But when his hand began to pull up at her skirts, Emily’s eyes snapped open and she pushed at his shoulders.

“Oh, my goodness. What are we doing? What am I doing?” Gregory placed her on the ground as she covered her face with her hands. “Am I so fickle?”

“What? No—”

“Aren’t I? I’ve thought myself in love with Allister for months only now to disregard it all completely?” She shook her head. “I’m so confused. What about Mama? How am I going to explain this to her? Or the duchess?”

Gregory breathed heavily, affected by their kiss more than either of them had realized.

“I admit,” he started before clearing his throat, “their knowledge about the letters wasn’t an ideal discovery.”

“I shall never be able to face them again.”

“I’m sure they’ll understand once we explain it. Allister has been incredibly diplomatic about the entire situation. I see no reason why our mothers—”

“Allister knows? You mean, you’ve just told him or he’s been aware of this the entire time?

” When Gregory didn’t speak, it only confirmed her suspicions.

She took a step back. “I cannot do this, Gregory. To be a fool in front of you is one thing, but to be made a fool in front of the rest of them? I can scarcely even imagine what I would say. No, no I cannot bear it.”

Emily turned and hurried through the downpouring rain.

“Wait, you’ll be soaked before you reach the steps,” he called out to her.

Within seconds, Gregory had his coat off, holding it over Emily’s head as she climbed the staircase. She did not thank him, nor did she acknowledge him the entire march back to the house. But she knew Gregory was there every step of the way, which only made her heart ache more.

She had never felt more lost than now.