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W hat about me?

How could a girl’s heart not race at that question?

Her pulse quickened as she watched Alex’s eyes darken.

There was something breathtaking about how he leaned in, bleeding confidence as if he commanded every situation.

This moment, shared beneath the rustling leaves, felt wild and scandalous.

She could sense the heat between them, an electric current ignited by the slightest glance, which had only intensified since they entered the orchard.

With each breath, she moved closer, drawn in by the gravitational pull of his scent—smoky vetiver blended with the creamy sweetness of sandalwood. Her future remained uncertain, but in this moment, she decided to throw all caution to the wind.

Let the wind do with it what it will.

She stepped closer, the grass soft beneath her bare feet. She had taken off her shoes somewhere by the creek, though she didn’t know where, as she hadn’t been able to tear her gaze away from Alex. Perhaps too greedy for cherries—and greedy for something more. Utterly unladylike!

“I don’t mind giving you a taste.”

She lifted onto her toes, closing the distance between them with a determined tilt of her chin.

She leaned in, her lips meeting his in a confident kiss.

It was straightforward, even practical, yet something about its simplicity—the way he responded without a hint of hesitation—held its own unexpected thrill.

Sera wrapped her arms around his neck, pressing closer, a shiver skimming down her spine when his hands cradled her waist. Every breath felt electrified, as if nothing could ever be the same after her first kiss.

She was crossing an invisible line.

And she crossed it gladly.

How magical.

She felt herself unraveling. She was no longer the cautious planner; she was a woman embracing the wild, scandalous side she had kept hidden for too long.

He kissed like she imagined a prince might in a fairy tale—insistent, confident, yet gentle, with a touch that made her feel as if she were something rare and precious.

There was something disarming about Alex.

His touch was both foreign and familiar.

She felt as if she were floating, each sensation heightened, her world condensing into the pure emotion of their connection.

Sera smiled against his lips. “Just who are you?” she whispered, half teasing, half sincere.

“Just a man,” he murmured back.

When she pulled back, she noticed the surprise lingering in his expression. “That was delicious, wasn’t it?”

“Exceedingly fresh.” His response was low and warm, sending butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

She felt a rush of daring at his words. She stepped back, leaning against the tree, as the kiss had left her surprisingly dizzy. This man… He wasn’t just any stranger; he seemed to be a catalyst for something she hadn’t realized she craved.

She had always been the responsible one.

Her weekends were filled with to-do lists and careful plans, leaving no room for unexpected encounters.

Well, aside from adventures with her friends.

Those had a certain spontaneity. But for herself, deciding to lose her prince was about the most reckless thing she had done in years, aside from following birds onto rocks.

Their kiss should have left her feeling a bit lost, but how could she feel completely adrift when, with him, she felt as though she had arrived exactly where she needed to be?

Her gaze traveled over his features.

The way his hair fell across his forehead, the way his eyes were locked on her, and the play of shadows on his strong jaw. Suddenly, she laughed.

“What’s the matter?” he asked, his brows raising as if unsure whether to be amused or concerned.

“Have you ever felt like you’ve known someone your whole life, even if you just met?” she asked, tilting her head to study him.

A flicker of surprise crossed his face, then he gave a slight nod. “Yes,” he replied, though his tone lifted at the end, almost like he was asking himself the same thing. “It’s strange, isn’t it?”

“Not strange,” she said, pushing herself off the tree. She brushed her skirts down, all prim and proper—yet given her bare feet and bold actions, she was anything but ladylike. “Perhaps just… inevitable.”

“Inevitable?” he repeated, watching her closely like he was trying to decipher some hidden meaning behind her words. “So, what happens now in this inevitable story of ours? Since you are referring to us, aren’t you?”

Yes, I am.

She flashed him a teasing grin. “Well, that depends. Can you climb trees?”

“Are you daring me, Miss Sera?” he asked, one brow lifting.

“Think of it as… encouraging you to keep up,” she said before she turned back toward the cherry trees, casting him a glance over her shoulder. “Unless you don’t want more cherries?”

I certainly do.

*

Alex drummed his fingers on the edge of the writing desk, his gaze drifting to the boots neatly placed in the center of his room.

The valet had been unusually talkative that morning, rambling on about “the pristine boots, now desecrated with sea sand, grass stains, and suspicious smears of dirt that could only have come from rolling around.”

It wasn’t as if he had actually been rolling around with Sera—well, not in any scandalous way.

Very scandalous, indeed.

But he couldn’t help but remember the way she laughed as she offered him cherries, the sparkle in her eye that made everything else fade away. He’d kissed her, and it was all he had thought about since.

The door burst open, and Charles, his ever-present valet at the hotel, stormed in, looking utterly disapproving. He picked up Alex’s boots gingerly, as if they were contaminated.

“Your boots, Your Royal Highness,” he said in a tone that conveyed the weight of someone delivering bad news.

Alex sighed, steeling himself. “What about them?”

“It’s not my place to say, Your Highness,” the valet began, which, of course, meant he intended to say quite a lot. “But when one is entrusted with the care of fine leather footwear, one doesn’t expect to find them in a state that suggests they’ve been through a war.”

“A war?” Alex raised an eyebrow.

“Apparently sand and seawater, grass, and—” His valet lowered his voice to a scandalized whisper, “—mud, sir.”

“It’s not mud,” Alex replied, half-distracted as he recalled that moment with Sera, her lips soft against his. “It’s just a little dirt.”

“A bit of dirt, Your Highness?” the valet repeated, looking as though he’d swallowed a lemon. “These are finely crafted boots, made in Florence according to the stamp on the soles. And now…” He shook his head, looking skyward. “They’re quite the opposite of what their creator intended them to be.”

“He intended them to be worn.”

“In style, yes.”

“Is it really that bad?” Alex attempted to look sympathetic, but he kept picturing Sera in the orchard, her eyes bright and challenging, her laughter ringing through the trees.

His boots, he figured, had been a necessary casualty of that adventure.

Plus, he’d done worse to boots during his time in the navy.

His valet, sensing he wasn’t being taken seriously, placed the boots on the floor with a thud. “Allow me to be frank, Your Highness. The soles are caked with vegetation. If there were a seed, it could sprout.”

Were all British valets this sensitive? “Grass, you mean. That’s just a little of it.”

“And the heels?” His valet gestured with one gloved hand. “Unholy amounts of mud.”

“Are you sure it’s mud?” Alex asked, genuinely curious. “It might just be a variant of it.” He stifled a chuckle.

His valet’s face twisted as if he’d just tasted something particularly sour. “Dirt and mud are related, Your Highness. Both cling to your pristine boots, which I was hired to keep spotless.”

Could he unhire the man assigned by the hotel?

“My apologies.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Your Highness, but I believe it’s my duty to inform you that these boots were masterpieces of craftsmanship, designed for royalty, not for… horticultural endeavors.”

Alex stifled a chuckle. “Horticultural endeavors? Really, Charles?”

But he quite liked the idea of other “cultural” endeavors with a certain girl from Cornwall.

Though, she’d said she was visiting, just like him, hadn’t she?

He wondered where she was from. Also, the word “contaminants” was so perfectly dramatic that Alex had to suppress rolling his eyes.

Wait. “How did you know I was at the cherry orchard?”

The valet showed him the sole of one of his boots, where a crushed cherry had lodged itself. But the sight only reminded him of that spark in Sera’s eye, the rush of her breath as she leaned closer, her fingers threading through his hair as if she had known him forever.

This was a problem.

Because he couldn’t make this last forever.

He was the contaminant in her life, burdened by royal duties, a betrothal to a stranger, and then there was that matter of his honesty.

Virtue—not that a man had any, he thought.

Yet he had always imagined sharing certain intimacies only with the one who would be his wife.

And Sera couldn’t be his wife.

Yes, she was the first girl—ever!—with whom he wanted to share this: himself—physically, emotionally, and if she kissed him like that again, then his soul.

The valet cleared his throat.

“Ah, yes, I stumbled upon the orchard by accident,” Alex admitted, though he regretted nothing about that moment in the orchard.

The valet muttered something under his breath. “Might I suggest a more conservative promenade next time, sir? A stroll in town, perhaps?”

“I’ll certainly keep that in mind. Though I don’t believe the vegetation is the issue.”

The valet’s eyebrows shot up. “Oh?”

“Let’s just say there were… distractions,” Alex murmured. A distraction that made him feel like a boy again, forgetting, for just a moment, the family duty drilled into him from birth.

His valet, however, remained firmly planted in irritation, his mind solely on the sacrilege done to Alex’s footwear. “Distractions, indeed,” he muttered under his breath. “I suppose the young lady in question has little regard for fine leather?”

“Who says it was a young lady?”

“What other distraction could lure a royal into a cherry orchard?”

“Cherries?”

The valet harrumphed at that.

Alex nodded absentmindedly. “Indeed, you’re right. And I’m not sure her regard for leather was the foremost thought on either of our minds.”

This time, the valet seemed taken aback. “Oh. I see.”

“No,” Alex said, his tone softening. “I don’t think you do. She makes me…” He hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Forget things. My apologies, Charles.”

“I see that, too.” At Alex’s pointed look, the valet cleared his throat. “Forgive me, sir, but what must a man of your royal station not forget in this specific instance?”

“My responsibilities, my duty,” Alex replied, running a hand through his hair. “Forget that there’s an engagement planned for me.”

“Ah,” the valet said with a nod. “One of those arrangements.”

“One of those,” Alex confirmed. “Since I was a child.”

“And yet,” the valet said, his voice surprisingly gentle now, “it seems that this young miss is a bit troublesome.”

Alex let out a short laugh. “Among other things. She’s fearless.

Stubborn, likely to a fault. And funny. She makes me feel in a way I’ve never imagined…

” He trailed off, observing the valet’s thoughtful expression.

“But it’s not as simple as that. I have responsibilities I can’t ignore, lest they catch up with me. ”

His valet was quiet for a moment, glancing at the boots, then back at Alex. “Sometimes, your highness, responsibilities and duties aren’t necessarily the things that make a life… well-lived.”

Alex blinked, surprised by the sudden shift in the man’s usually theatrical character. It was almost as if he spoke from experience.

“But I am engaged to someone else.”

“An engagement is just words, your highness. A lifetime is something entirely different. It’s life. Time.”

A lifetime…

Alex sighed, leaning back. “And what am I supposed to do about it? Break it off? Disappoint my family? Risk… well, everything, just for someone I might not have even known if I hadn’t come to Cornwall.”

“But you did, your highness. Perhaps that is fate.”

“Are you speaking from experience then?” Alex pressed.

The valet’s expression changed. It wasn’t stern and judgmental for the first time but rather vulnerable.

“Yes.” Charles avoided meeting his eyes and looked at his hands.

Alex rose and clapped his valet on the back with a grin. “Thank you, Charles. And I promise to stay out of the mud… at least until tomorrow.”

His valet gave him a skeptical look, picking up the boots as if they were precious artifacts that needed guarding. “One can only hope, sir.”

The valet left with the boots, and Alex stared after him, chuckling to himself.

But as the door closed, his laughter faded, and his thoughts turned back to Sera.

For just a moment, in the soft light of that orchard—and earlier, on the beach—he’d felt like he could be the man he wanted to be. He’d felt free.

He shook his head, wondering if he’d ever feel that way again. Deep down, he knew that if she was part of his life, he’d be a better man.

A lifetime. Fate.

Hadn’t that already been set in ink on paper?

But not in stone.