Page 40 of The Sound of Seduction (Miracles on Harley Street #4)

Stan hesitated before answering, his voice low with restrained anger.

“Because he’s already stolen too much from my family, and we are responsible for so many people at home.

It’s personal now, too. Twice, he’s captured my sister, Thea.

She… she lives, but the fears from those encounters—visible and otherwise—remain.

And he continues to steal from the gold mines in Transylvania; he’s unstoppable, no matter how hard I try.

” His hands curled into fists before relaxing as if realizing they betrayed too much.

“And if List even so much as tried to lay a hand on you…” He stopped, exhaling sharply.

Wendy’s heart ached at the sheer vulnerability she saw in him. “He won’t,” she told him with quiet assurance. And for the first time, she didn’t want to shield herself from that ache. She wanted to carry it with him.

His eyes fixed on hers, then, a devastating mix of frustration and regret flashed in them.

“Now that he’s seen us—me protecting you, you holding onto my arm—he’ll know exactly where to aim the next time he wants to hurt me.

” His expression searched hers, jaw tense.

“I brought him into your world. I never meant to, but I did.”

Wendy tightened her grip on the tin in her lap, her chin lifting slightly.

I’m the risk he can’t afford.

And yet, leaving him now would be the greater danger—to both of them.

With this realization, she knew her time with Stan would be short-lived.

“I won’t make it so easy for him,” Wendy said.

Stan flinched at her determination. She was resolute, radiant in her courage.

And it terrified him—because it made him want to believe they could truly have something more.

He reached for her hand and looked at her as if he’d done something terribly wrong.

“I should take you to Nick,” his voice clipped.

“He’s dining at the Langley’s. You’ll be safer there than with me because List knows my whereabouts now. ”

“No.” She leaned toward him, her voice clear and resolute. “I’ll pay the Countess a visit tomorrow, but for tonight, I stay right here. With you.”

He shook his head, visibly torn. “We may not be safe.”

“I don’t care,” she said, her voice softening.

“How much longer will you even be in London, Stan? I don’t want to waste a single moment with you—not talking about him, not letting him take even more from us.

not letting him scare us into silence. We still get to choose how this story unfolds.

” She met his eyes, daring him to argue.

“You told me once I was the brave one. Let me be that now.” Wendy sighed.

“His people attacked you that night, didn’t they?

It was his command. You almost died because of him !

” Her voice broke and wobbled slightly, she couldn’t hide it.

And her words hung in the air between them, heavy but earnest. Stan’s shoulders relaxed, just slightly, and he nodded once.

The carriage slowed as they approached the Gardens near Cloverdale House with their wide expanse of shadowed rows and placid waters.

When they stepped down, the world felt quieter here.

Although the chill of the night wrapped around them, the sky above was clear, and the soft shimmer of moonlight reflected off the dark glass of the Serpentine.

It gleamed as if scattered with liquid stars, its small ripples catching the gentle breeze.

Stan retrieved a horse blanket from under the seat of the carriage and led Wendy toward the water’s edge to a bench.

They spread out a thick blanket on the damp grass, and the distant lantern glow from the park’s entrances was the only other illumination.

When they settled, Wendy unwrapped the tin and scooped the now-softening ice into two delicate silver spoons.

The fragrant sweetness of mandarin and rose filled her senses when the first bite melted in her mouth.

Stan sat beside her, close enough that their knees brushed. He didn’t need to speak for her to know his thoughts still lingered on List, on the way he hadn’t been able to protect Thea, and his fear that history might repeat itself.

Wendy reached for his hand, her fingers wrapping around his larger ones. The warmth of his touch comforted her more than she expected. “You’ll find a way to keep us safe,” she said quietly. Her certainty seemed unshakable.

His gaze searched hers. “You have too much faith in me.”

“Because you’ve earned it,” Wendy replied simply. “Not through titles, Stan. Through every step you take toward protecting what’s right.”

Something in him softened then, a subtle shift that made the tension around his eyes ease. He leaned forward, one arm bracing against the blanket as he brought his free hand to her cheek. His thumb moved gently over her skin, warming her against the night’s chill.

Their foreheads nearly touched, their breaths mingling in the stillness.

The quiet park and shimmering water stretched before him, a patchwork of moonlit paths and shadows cast by the tall hedgerows.

Stan took a steadying breath, his gaze fixed on her.

Wendy blinked at him, her eyes catching silver from the starlit sky.

She turned to him then, her pale pelisse shimmering faintly as it moved with the soft breeze, her eyes bright and searching.

Something in their stillness captured his very soul.

He closed the distance toward her, his boots crunching softly against the gravel.

The faint scent of mandarins and rose lingered in the air, mingling with the cool earthiness of the night.

She did not retreat, did not so much as tremble, though he suspected her heart must race like his.

The night felt poised on the brink of something unnamed, their breaths mingling with a tension that begged to be broken.

Finally, Stan closed the distance. He lifted a hand and rested it lightly beneath her chin, tilting her face toward him.

By the flickering light of the nearby lantern from the carriage, her features seemed impossibly lovely, a portrait of serenity hiding the storm he could sense beneath.

Slowly, as if testing the bounds of reality itself, he lowered his lips to hers.

The kiss was gentle at first, a quiet promise in the stillness of the garden.

But the second touch, more certain, unraveled all the restraint he had known.

The world shrank to this—her warmth, the soft tremor of her breath against his mouth, the brush of silk against his fingertips as his hand slid to the delicate shape of her neck.

The distant night sounds of owls and rustling leaves dissolved entirely, leaving only the steady beat of his heart and the intoxicating closeness of her.

When they drew back, the night air kissed their faces, cool and startling in its sharpness.

Wendy’s eyes held his, her lips curving into a smile so tender it caused a pang deep in his chest. The fountain behind her shimmered, its gentle cascade reflecting the scattered moonlight like fractured diamonds.

“There is nowhere else I would rather be,” she said softly, her voice as delicate as a ribbon catching the air.

Stan’s lips tugged into a smile, slow and unguarded, a response he had not given anyone in what felt like a lifetime. “Nor I,” he replied, his voice rich but laced with quiet sincerity.

Then she closed her eyes.

He reached for her hand, drawing her knuckles to his lips for a lingering kiss before tucking it into the crook of his arm.

Together, without urgency, they got up and began to wander down the moonlit path, the neatly trimmed hedges framing their private escape.

The night, so still, seemed to hold its breath for them, as though even the stars had gathered to watch.