Page 15

Four

T he fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting a warm glow over the small, intimate space. Outside, the storm still howled, but within the confines of the hunting lodge, the heavy silence between Haverleigh and Pippa was palpable. Pippa sat near the window, her hands folded in her lap, staring at the flickering flames as if they held the answers to her mixed thoughts. She did not think of the rain, nor the wild wind. Instead her mind wandered to thoughts of her father, his sudden death, and the weight of sorrow that had descended upon her mother, her entire family, since that fateful day. Because his death was so recent she often returned to that loss, the pain ever present—even when other things held her attention. Sometimes she could push past it and forget, but those moments were infrequent. She supposed that in time, they would come less often, though even that was difficult for her to imagine. A time when it would hurt less to no longer have her father in her life—that seemed impossible to her now.

She exhaled slowly, as if trying to push the pain from her chest, but it remained—ever steady and present, a weight she could not remove for anything. The sharp ache of losing her father was a constant companion now, a heaviness that clung to her heart. “I still do not fully understand how it all happened,” she murmured softly, though she spoke to no one in particular. “Father was not an old man. His health was not failing...and yet, one moment he was there, and the next... nothing.” Her brother felt the brunt of that loss the most. Their father’s death left him with numerous responsibilities and almost no time left for him to grieve.

Haverleigh, standing by the fire, his back turned to her, glanced over his shoulder. He had never bothered to wrap that quilt around himself and he stood there with his bare chest in front of her. His usually composed features were drawn with the solemn weight of understanding. He had experienced loss too—though years earlier—when his own father had passed suddenly. From what her brother had told her, the memory of that moment still haunted him. She had never discussed it with the duke herself. “I understand, Pippa,” he said quietly, his voice low but steady. “My own father died in a similar way. I was there when it happened. It was… devastating.” His tone softened with the words, a distant, painful recollection hidden within them.

Pippa looked at him then, her eyes softening with empathy. “You were there?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She could not allow him to know the little that her brother had already told her. He had done so in an effort to help her understand the duke and why he could be so emotionally withdrawn at times. Though she did not know the full extent of his grief, only the distant air of a young man who had grown too accustomed to the responsibilities thrust upon him far too soon—Pippa wanted to understand it, understand him. “I did not know.” She had known a little of course, but she would continue to keep that to herself.

“I was in his study when it happened,” Christopher continued, turning fully now to face her. Her gaze drifted to the expanse of his chest. She wanted to run her hands over all those muscles, but that would be foolish. What would he think of her if she gave in to that desire? Instead she forced her gaze to meet his as he spoke, “I had just arrived from Eton, and he—well, he had called for me. He was having trouble breathing. I did not know anything ailed him.” His voice faltered briefly. “He held his hands over his chest as he struggled to breathe… I have never felt more helpless in my life.” He took a deep breath. “He stopped breathing and then… Well, you understand.”

Pippa’s heart clenched at the depth of his words, because she did understand, and for the first time since they had known each other, she saw him not as the insufferable duke who often made her blood boil, but as a man—one who had borne the burden of grief alone. “I’m sorry,” she said, her voice soft with a sincerity she had not known she could offer him.

He nodded, his eyes momentarily meeting hers before he looked down at the floor, clearly struggling to find the right words. “Grief is a strange thing. It can make you feel lost, untethered, like you’re drifting through life without a true purpose. My mother...” He paused, swallowing hard before continuing. “My mother did not mourn him. She barely seemed to care. She simply moved on.”

The bitterness in his words was not lost on Pippa, who tilted her head as she studied him. “I’m sorry,” she said again, though she could not truly understand the isolation he must have felt, the abandonment of one parent in the face of such a tragic loss. “I have found that there are no words to express the grief in my own heart or the ones needed to comfort those I love. It is much the same here. Merely saying I am sorry doesn’t seem adequate.” She was silent a moment before she continued. “I don’t know how to help my mother,” she confessed softly, her voice trembling slightly. “She is so consumed with her own sorrow, I think she has forgotten how to live. How do I help her, when I can hardly help myself?”

For a moment, they were both quiet, each absorbed in their own thoughts, each grappling with the weight of their own grief. Then, without warning, Pippa stood and moved closer to him, almost as if pulled by an invisible force. She could not explain it—this sudden need to bridge the distance between them, to speak freely of their shared pain. “What would you do?”

Haverleigh’s gaze softened, and for the first time, he stepped toward her, closing the distance. “You don’t have to do it alone, Pippa,” he said gently. “We can’t even begin to know how to fix others. But being there for them, even in the silence, is enough.”

Their eyes locked for a moment, and in that instant, the walls that had always separated them—his aloofness, her annoyance—seemed to vanish. She realized that she had never truly seen him, not in the way that she saw him now. His chest bare chest a temptation she could barely resist. She had thought seeing his drenched shirt stuck to him like a second skin distracting, but this…she couldn’t tear her gaze away from the strength and grace of his form. It was impossible not to notice the way he stood before her, his presence overwhelming in a way that stirred something deep within her.

The duke stepped closer as heat filled her cheeks. His gaze flickered to her lips, and before she could stop him, he reached for her, his hand cupped her cheek gently. She didn’t pull away. Instead, she tilted her face upward, their breaths mingling in the space between them. He reached out with his other hand, his fingers trembling slightly as he touched the side of her face, brushing a stray curl behind her ear. The moment those fingers, so gentle, touched her face, Pippa gasped, the sharp intake of breath only making his pulse quicken. He leaned in, the space between them closing faster than she could have anticipated.

The kiss came unexpectedly, but it was everything she had imagined—soft and tentative at first, as though they were both still testing the waters of this new dynamic between them. But then, as the fire crackled louder in the background and the storm howled against the cabin’s stone walls, something inside them both snapped. The kiss deepened, and all the heat, all the longing, and the years of frustration and desire flooded through them.

Pippa’s hands slid up to Haverleigh’s chest and he responded by pulling her closer, wrapping his arms around her as though he could never get enough of her. He felt so warm, so right, like nothing had ever made more sense in her entire life. When he lifted his head and stared down at her it seemed as if something monumental had passed between them.

His fingers brushed against her cheek once more, and he looked at her with something new in his gaze. “Pippa…” His voice was thick, his desire evident, but there was something more there—something deeper, something that told her this wasn’t just about the storm, or the heat between them.

Pippa’s pulse quickened, her heart racing in a way it had never done before. It was foolish. It was reckless. She wanted to launch herself into his arms and beg him to kiss he again. She knew she shouldn’t but that did not mean that she would not do it. Pippa had never been one to act with caution. She wanted him. Perhaps a part of her had always believed it would lead to this. The fire crackled in the background, but the heat between them burned hotter. Pippa instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck and threaded her fingers through his damp hair. There was no going back now. She could feel his heart pounding against hers, a rhythm that matched her own.

He leaned down and pressed his lips to hers again. The kiss stole her breath and what little thoughts she had left in her mind. He continued to kiss her until she did not know where he ended, and she began. When they finally pulled apart, breathless and trembling, they stared at each other, both realizing in that moment that what had begun as a simple connection had turned into something much more. Something neither of them were prepared for, but neither could deny.

“I didn’t mean for this to happen,” Christopher whispered, his forehead resting against hers.

“I didn’t either,” Pippa murmured, but her lips curved into a hesitant smile. “But perhaps we were not meant to. No one plans of passion or anything deeper than that.”

They both knew that this was only the beginning. They did not stop to discuss it. Instead, he kissed her again, and then lowered his head until he could trail kisses along her jawline, then down her neck. He pushed the quilt off of her shoulders until she let go and it tumbled to the floor.

Pippa’s chest heaved with every breath. “I…” Her voice faltered a little bit as she said in a breathless whisper, “This isn’t… we shouldn’t?—”

Haverleigh kept trailing kisses over her shoulders leaving her with muddled thoughts “No. Don’t say it.” His voice was quiet, but firm, as though he was trying to hold her in place and stop her from pushing him away again. “I want you and I can’t pretend I don’t. I can’t fight this, and I find I do not want to. Please...”

Her lips parted as if she would protest, but instead of words, a soft, shaky breath escaped her. He kissed her again, but this time, there was no hesitation, no uncertainty. This was more than just passion—it was everything she never knew she wanted. Not until his lips first touched hers and that passion had been ignited. Pippa responded eagerly, her hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer still. His lips were warm, and the kiss was unrestrained—raw, hungry, full of all the emotions they had both been hiding.

Slowly, he stripped her shift off leaving he bare before him. He leaned down and sucked one taut nipple into his mouth. Pippa moaned at the pleasure. Then he moved his hand up and tweaked the other nipple between his thumb and forefinger. She became incessant with need. He moved down her body kissing her stomach and stopped at the juncture of her legs. He glanced up at her then with a wicked gleam in his eyes. “I am going to give you pleasure, Pippa, love. Something for you to always remember this night with fondness.” Then he kissed her core. He licked and sucked her tender flesh until she broke apart. Pippa had not even known such a thing was possible. It had been pleasurable all right and she damn well would never forget it.

When he lifted his gaze again Pippa was breathless and flushed. She could feel the weight of everything they had just shared pressing down on her, but there was also something lighter, something brighter. It was as if a cloud had lifted, and for the first time, she saw everything clearly.

“I need you, Pippa,” he said, his voice barely more than a whisper, but the intensity in his tone was unmistakable. “I want you. In every way. I know this—this is not just a passing moment. It’s you. Always you.” He smiled softly. “But this is not the time for us to fully come together.” He moved up to lie beside her and kissed her cheek, before returning his gaze to meet hers. “This will have to be enough.”

She stared at him for a long moment, and for a heartbeat. But then, without saying a word, she leaned in, her lips brushing against his in a soft, lingering kiss. She wanted this too—wanted him. When she pulled away, she looked at him, her eyes shining with something he couldn’t name, but he knew. “We’re in this together,” she said softly, her words not just a promise but a declaration. “And this is enough.” She tilted her lips into a wanton smile. “For now.”

And in that moment, Pippa knew she had made the decision to give him her heart. She would love him forever, and she prayed he had spoken the truth. That this was not a passing fancy, and they did have a future together. Because no other man would do for her. He was it for her.