Page 1 of Yours Always (The Enduring Hearts #1)

Edenfield - London, England

Sarah Elizabeth Weston raced down the slope, her laughter rising like a birdsong as her hat flew loose, bouncing behind her, tethered only by the ribbon beneath her chin.

Benjamin chased after her, the picnic basket swinging wildly from one hand as he shouted for her to slow down, as if she had ever listened.

Matthew watched from the hill as he strolled beside Grace, their pace far more civilized.

The sun shone high and bright on his shoulders as the wind whispered gently through his hair, carrying with it the sound of Sarah’s joy, unbound and untamed.

Her golden curls caught the light, and her laughter caught something in his chest. There was something different about her now.

He hadn’t realized how much she’d changed, or how much he’d missed it happening.

"She's a menace," he said, watching Sarah dart and weave between the wildflowers. "She's a joy, Matthew Fenwick" Grace corrected him with a soft smile. "Don't you ever mistake it."

They reached the meadow that sloped gently toward the Westons’ private pond. The water sparkled under the high sun, a thousand tiny diamonds dancing across its surface. Benjamin dropped the basket beneath a tree and pulled off his boots. "Come on, Sarah! I bet I can beat you to the water!"

"You wouldn't dare," Sarah called back, already unfastening the buttons at her cuffs. She spun once in the grass, laughing, before darting toward the pond’s edge.

Grace settled on the blanket and began unpacking their lunch with calm precision, but Matthew lingered at the shoreline as Benjamin plunged into the water with an undignified shout.

A moment later, Sarah dove in after her brother with a squeal.

Matthew rubbed the back of his neck, the heat of the sun pressing at his collar, prickling at the edge of his thoughts.

"You’re not going in?” Grace teased, not looking up from the basket.

“Someone ought to make sure we eat before they drown themselves.” he said, managing a grin, though it faltered the moment Sarah surfaced with water trailing down her flushed cheeks as she brushed her hair back with both hands.

His throat tightened unexpectedly. He felt older, suddenly.

As if something precious was slipping away and he hadn’t noticed until now.

Sarah caught his eye with a mischievous grin and flicked a splash of water toward him. “Are you scared of a little water, Mr. Fenwick?” From across the pond, Benjamin whooped, “He’s just worried about getting his hair wet!”

Grace giggled behind her hand as Matthew shook his head in defeat and tugged off his boots. “If I drown,” he muttered, “you can have my best waistcoat.”

“I’ll treasure it.” Grace replied.

Matthew dove into the cool water, surfacing just behind Sarah. She shrieked as he grabbed her ankle and tugged her under. She broke the surface with a gasp, sputtering and swiping at him as she treaded water. "You beast!"

“You dared me, Lizzy girl,” he said, eyes crinkling at the corners. Benjamin splashed water at them both and soon, the quiet pond gave way to shrieks, and laughter loud enough to wake the trees.

Much later, when the sun hung low and shadows stretched long across the meadow, the stillness returned.

The four of them lay sprawled on the blanket, drowsy from sun and water, full from lunch and laughter.

Matthew lay beside Sarah, his arm brushing hers, their heads tipped back in the grass.

He could hear the faint ripple of the pond, the rustle of leaves, the quiet hum of bees in the wildflowers nearby.

But mostly, he heard her laughter echoing faintly in his ears still shimmering like sunlight on water.

She had fallen asleep beside him, her damp hair clinging to her skin, one hand curled loosely against the sleeve of his coat.

He turned his head just slightly, just enough to watch her breathe.

For one wild, suspended moment, he imagined bending to kiss the top of her head.

Just a brotherly-type gesture, surely—but he didn’t.

Instead, he memorized the weight of her beside him and the soft, steady rhythm of her breath.

He tucked it away somewhere deep in his heart, where he thought it could do no harm.

Someday, some fine lord would come for her—someone with a title, land, and promises that were not his to make—but Matthew would have this moment.

Always.