A hollowness filled my chest as I clenched my jaw, glancing at the greenery around us.

I would have to ensure no drop of Briar’s blood ever crossed my lips.

“I was just thinking how beautiful this is. And wondering whether our ancestors ever spent time here together.” My voice was softer than I intended, and I chided myself for showing some of what I felt for her.

“Floral arranging was a popular pastime in Lady Isobel’s day. I’m sure she would have visited here.”

Briar’s fingers brushed against the soft petals of a rose. “Maybe my love for horticulture is passed down in my blood?” A wistful smile played on her lips as she raised her eyes to mine.

My words carried the weight of unspoken connections threading through generations. “There are stranger things than that.” I smoothed a stray hair behind Briar’s ear. “I can see them strolling along the same paths together,” I mused aloud, holding her gaze in mine for much too long.

I flicked my eyes away and walked again. How could I be so stupid as to allow a moment like that? I cleared my throat. “Tell me about growing up. You seem deeply invested in learning about Lady Isobel, but it feels so different from your everyday work.”

I glanced at her. Briar’s eyes sparkled as she smiled. “It is. But growing up was worlds away from this.” She gestured around us. “I didn’t have grand homes or exotic places to go. It was just Mum and me in our little corner of Byron Bay. I can’t imagine what your childhood was like.”

I forced a laugh, not allowing her to turn the conversation to me. “My childhood isn’t what we’re discussing right now.”

Still, growing up in the small cottage, running over the grounds of Dún Na Farraige—before the manor even stood—flashed in my memory.

My brothers and I drank the blood-laced wine given to us by our parents to stave off starvation.

We hunted and farmed, sustaining the Clan O’Cillian.

Over time, the clan dispersed as the curse that settled over my father consumed his siblings.

My fingers flexed unconsciously at my sides.

I couldn’t describe any of this to Briar.

We stopped again in front of a pond, huge lily pads covering the water.

I focused on her as she gazed at the gardens with awe.

The look on her face was exquisite, lightening my heart as she took in the sights.

I reached forward, my fingers resting on the curve of her delicate waist. Her breath hitched ever so slightly, but her body relaxed at my touch.

“So tell me about your childhood,” I said, softening my voice.

She laid her hands on the railing in front of us.

“Well, first, my mother could never get me to come back inside,” Briar began, her tone tinged with nostalgia.

“I was always out playing in the dirt. She wanted me to learn history and where we came from, but I’d rather be in the sand by the ocean, playing with seaweed or seeing what I could cultivate in our backyard.

The salt air would tangle my hair,” she added with a slight laugh.

“My mother would tell me everything she had learned about history as she attempted to brush it out each night.”

A grin tugged at my lips as I tried to picture a younger Briar. I wondered if I had ever met her running wild in a garden or on the beach. “It sounds like you’ve always been a bit of a wildflower—someone who knows exactly where she belongs… and finds a way to thrive there. Beautifully.”

Her gaze fell in front of us, and the tendons of her hands stood taut as she gripped the railing a little harder.

“Part of me regrets not spending more time helping my mother with what she wanted. I think that’s why I want to learn so much now—like I’m making up for lost time. Maybe that was why I made the promise.”

She leaned back into me, holding the rail, her face a jumble of emotions I couldn’t pick out.

Her shoulders rose and fell with the long breath she pulled in before she turned to face me, my hand still on her waist. A waterfall splashed in the background, but all I could hear was Briar’s ragged breathing as she stared into my eyes, her pupils reflecting a swirl of feelings, murky and unsettled.

“I don’t want to lose time again, Lorcan,” she breathed. “I don’t want to be filled with regret, and I’m afraid…”

I pushed my lips together into a small line but couldn’t bring myself to take my hand from her.

It felt so right. I closed my eyes, overwhelmed by the feelings.

I couldn’t bring her into this. Cormac was right.

Eventually, Aiden would win, and when he did, he would find me.

And that put Briar in as much danger as my own feelings did.

I struggled to fill my lungs with air, wanting to both pull her to me and to run.

I opened my eyes to find her still watching me, the colors of the plants behind her taking on an even brighter hue.

Her hand rose in slow motion toward me before it stopped.

She took a breath and laid it on my cheek.

“Please,” she whispered. She rose on her tiptoes, her hand slipping to the back of my neck to guide my lips to hers.

Her lips were soft and warm, parting beneath mine.

The scent of lavender clung to her as her fingers tangled in the hair at the nape of my neck, pulling me into the warmth of her embrace and the faint taste of peppermint tea lingering on her tongue when it found mine.