Page 7

In her presence, every detail of the countryside became vibrant.

Talking to her, Alex didn’t feel like a prince—he felt much smaller, much more human.

Yet, in her world, even that smallness felt significant.

There was a wonder in how she saw Cornwall that made him ache to see how she looked at him.

She didn’t treat him like a prince, didn’t lower her voice or glance nervously at him as others might.

Her laughter often came at his expense, ringing sharp and clear in the crisp air, but he could never mind that.

No one had dared challenge him like this before, and perhaps more surprisingly—he liked it.

“So how is it that you’re such a good swimmer?” Sera asked as they walked together, her eyes focused on the narrow path while her bonnet shielded her from the afternoon sun.

“I worked on a ship for a time,” he said, his stride slowing slightly. “We spent long days at sea. Swimming wasn’t a choice, really. It meant life or—”

“Death? Like you prevented mine?” Sera turned her head toward him, eyes glowing.

“Not exactly the same, but yes, life or death.”

She nodded thoughtfully. “What was it like? Sailing the seas?”

“It was work,” Alex murmured. Duty. He could feel the tension curling in his chest, the weight of memory coiled too tightly to release, begging for release. He’d never told anyone before. Not even his family. He paused, before admitting, “One of the men went overboard.”

She gasped. “That must have been terrible.”

It had been terrible, yes. The only life he’d ever lost while he was in charge. After a pause that felt far too loud, he spoke again, his voice firmer now. “It was my task to pull him out. I couldn’t. The sea… was too strong that day. It took him before I could reach him.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Sera said, her voice barely a whisper. “It’s not your fault.”

Alex glanced sideways, unable to stop himself.

It felt rather strange that somehow, for some unexplainable reason, he needed her to know this about him before anything else.

A man died on his watch, whether he was to blame or not.

“Since that day, I’ve made a promise that no one dies on my watch. Not if I can prevent it.”

Then came her response—soft, tentative, but certain. “What happened to that poor man is horrible, but know that I’m not your responsibility, Alex. Not back at the beach, and not if this tree here decides to fall and flatten me.”

The corner of his mouth twitched. She had a way to brighten the mood. “I’ll still claim responsibility.”

She laughed, her gaze drifting over him. “How heavy must those shoulders be.”

Not so heavy when you are here. “I can manage.”

She laughed again. “You’re a better man than you give yourself credit for,” she said simply, stepping closer. Her voice carried no fanfare, no excessive sweetness. Just honesty. “So, give yourself some more, will you.”

He met her gaze, his chest stirring with a sensation he couldn’t quite name. “I shall try.”

Their elbows brushed, but he didn’t shift away.

Neither did she. If anything, he allowed the space between them to shrink, and he thought, perhaps, she did the same.

He recognized this kind of closeness, having felt it before in many ballrooms when women tilted their heads just so, turning toward him with hardly any concealed expectation.

He’d always stepped back—polite but distant.

He had never welcomed such attention before.

But here, now, the thought of distance between them unsettled him in a way he couldn’t articulate.

He was close—just a day’s ride from fulfilling years of obligation and expectation to meet his intended bride.

Yet at this moment, with Sera’s presence beside him, all those duties felt abstract and far removed.

When her hand brushed lightly against his, the touch sent a ripple through him.

He didn’t stop to think. He turned his palm and took her hand in his, curling his fingers around hers.

Her breath hitched audibly, a small and fleeting sound, but she didn’t pull away. Alex felt the faint tremble of her fingers. He glanced at her, catching the faintest flicker in her expression—surprise, hesitation, but something else, too.

Something shared.

They continued walking, her hand resting easily in his now, impossibly natural, as though it had always been there, waiting for him to reach out. How to explain this? How to explain her ? There was only one answer. He couldn’t.

Cherry trees rose around him, their branches stretching toward the sky with an abundance of small, luscious cherries dangling just beyond his reach.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” she asked.

He smiled, glancing at her. “I don’t recall if I’ve ever seen anything as beautiful.”

She paused beneath one of the trees and turned to him.

Her eyes sparkled like the sunlit dew on the grassy path they’d just walked and pointed to a cluster of cherries hanging above her.

Alex didn’t follow her gaze upward, instead, his gaze settled on the elegant curve of her neck, the way it sloped to her delicate chin.

His heart quickened. He imagined the softness of her skin beneath his lips, the exquisite thrill of following a trail of kisses along her collarbone.

“Shall we taste them?” she asked, grinning at him.

Alex blinked away the splendid imagery.

I want to taste you.

“They’re not ours to take, are they?” Neither was she.

“Do not worry. I know the owner,” she replied.

“Well, if you’re going to take liberties with his cherries, best do it properly.” He stepped forward to offer his hands as a makeshift step. “Can you reach them if I lift you up a little?”

“I believe so.” She didn’t hesitate to place her foot into the cradle he created, her fingers settling on his shoulders for balance. “You’re certain you can lift me, yes? I’m no feather.”

She shouldn’t take her shoes off, nor expose her ankles, he wanted to say, but then he was the one that offered to lift her. In any event, he’d done this countless times, lifting his sister, Thea, up in the apple trees in Bra?ov. “You’re no sack of grain either.”

“Oh, you have trouble lifting those?” she teased him. “How interesting.”

He chuckled. “Would you think less of me if I’d say I never have?”

“I’m more relieved not to be a sack of grain.”

Alex laughed. “If you were one, you’d be the most charming one I ever lifted.”

“I’m ready,” she announced. “You can lift me.”

He did so, her skirts rustling against Alex’s arms as she stretched toward a branch. He steadied her, watching as her lips curled with satisfaction. “I can reach it. Wait. Almost—”

He lifted her a little higher. “What about now?”

Before she could answer, her body swayed slightly, throwing her off-balance.

In a heartbeat, one arm gripped her waist while the other wrapped around her legs.

She let out a small gasp as her palms pressed against his shoulders, steadying herself.

Her face was inches from his, and all the nerves in his body sparked to life.

Their eyes met, and the orchard around them faded.

He could feel the heat of her body through the fabric of her dress, the faint scent of her perfume weaving with the fresh earth and fruit.

The moment was magnetic, a pull so strong he had to clench his jaw to keep from leaning in closer.

This didn’t feel like just a moment of physical support; it felt like the awakening of something deeper, something fundamental within him.

He cleared his throat, trying to shake the strange feeling that spread inside him. “Quite the unexpected adventure, picking cherries.”

Her cheeks flushed. “Quite. Though I think I might need a firmer footing next time.”

“Next time?” he teased, the words slipping out before he could catch them. “Planning to climb more trees with me, are you?”

She grinned. “Well, since it’s this thrilling, why not?”

He smiled. Here, in the cherry orchard, away from prying eyes, he had to admit he felt free from the constraints of decorum, unburdened by the expectations that usually hovered over his interactions.

In this secluded orchard, he was simply Alex, unmasked and genuine, reveling in the uninhibited allure of the moment.

He could savor this rare gift of intimacy that came with no expectations.

“You can set me down now,” she said softly.

Oh.

Indeed.

He lowered her to her feet, surprised at his own reluctance. She lifted her hand with a triumphant smile, and he caught sight of the cherry between her fingers. “I got one.”

And then, with a wicked little smile, she bit into it, letting the juice spill slightly down her lip.

Alex watched, entirely spellbound, as she slowly wiped the juice away with her thumb. “Quite the victory,” he managed, the words coming out in a voice that sounded far too rough. “But what about me?”