Page 12 of Enduring Promise

But everything had gone sideways and suddenly, like usual, Hillary was in over her head. And now here she was, tangled up with Russ in this strange, unexpected way, lying in this bed, in a place she didn’t belong, doing something she wasn’t even sure how to define.

If Mia were here, she’d know exactly what to do. She’d keep her emotions in check, handle everything with a calm professionalism that Hillary could only admire from a distance. Mia would never be lying here, letting herself feel things she had no business feeling, losing herself in the comfort of Russ’s arms. What she really wanted was to get her sister’s advice.

But they had to stay completely radio silent, no contact with anyone on the outside. That was the deal. And it was killing her,the thought of Mia out there somewhere, worried, wondering if her little sister was safe.

She blinked against the burn of tears, burying her face against Russ’s chest for a moment, grateful that he couldn’t see the vulnerability threatening to spill over. It was the whimper that gave her away. She was crying and Russ wasn’t the kind of man who would pretend he didn’t notice.

CHAPTER 11

Russ lay still, the warmth of Hillary pressed against him a comforting weight he wasn’t ready to relinquish. But then, he felt it—a soft, trembling sigh, almost imperceptible, but enough to make him pause. He shifted slightly, realizing with a jolt that Hillary’s shoulders were shaking. She was... crying. A quiet, restrained sort of crying, as if she was doing everything in her power to keep it hidden.

Guilt washed over him, swift and unrelenting. Had he overstepped? Maybe pulling her back to him had been too much, too forward. She was vulnerable, wrapped up in whatever complex emotions she carried, and he’d been selfish, thinking only of how good it felt to have her close, of the way her presence grounded him. He hadn’t been ready to let go, but maybe he should have.

“Hillary...” he murmured softly, uncertain, his voice a mix of apology and hesitation. He wanted to say he was sorry, to pull back and give her space if that’s what she needed, but he didn’t know where to start.

She didn’t respond right away, her face still hidden against his chest, her breath coming in those small, uneven gasps that tugged at something deep inside him. He tightened his armaround her, gentle but firm, letting her know he was there, that she wasn’t alone, without forcing her to talk.

“If I’m being an idiot,” he offered quietly, his hand instinctively smoothing over her hair, a simple, comforting gesture. “You can just say so... I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

She shook her head, but kept her face pressed to his chest, her hand gripping his arm as if she were holding on to him like an anchor. Finally, in a voice muffled and raw, she whispered, “I just want to talk to my sister. I have this terrible feeling that she’s not okay. Like she’s probably worried sick about me and I caused that. I made a stupid choice to show up for a job that wasn’t mine, that I wasn’t qualified to do, and now I’ve put her in a terrible position. She might lose her job with Kinross. That’s something she loves so deeply.”

He relaxed slightly, relieved he hadn’t pushed her too far. But her words tugged at his heart, making him realize just how much weight she was carrying, how much more was beneath the surface.

“Hey,” he whispered, brushing a hand over her back, “you’ve been more than qualified for this job. Think of everything we’ve been through and how unbelievably strong you’ve been. We’ve nearly died multiple times and yet here we are. In the lap of luxury finally getting to take a breath. Your sister would be proud. You could have bailed on me and been back home already. But you knew I...” he trailed off and she gave him the gift of not pressing on. He’d been alone in hiding, running for his life for a while before he reconnected with Topeka and then met Alex and Hillary. Those were dark times. The threat was always around every corner and he was isolated from the world. He’d have understood if Hillary had chosen to go home the first chance she got. But he was so glad she hadn’t.

She let out a shuddering breath, and for a moment, he thought she might pull away. But instead, she held on a littletighter, her fingers curling into his ribs, as if she needed something solid to keep her grounded.

They stayed like that, wrapped up in each other in the quiet of the morning until her tears seemed to subside. If there was more to say, or something else was going to happen, they’d never know. There was a knock at the bedroom door and Sophie opened it slightly but didn’t poke her head in.

“Pardon me,” she said meekly. “I don’t mean to disturb you but Madame Fournier would like you down for breakfast. She said it’s vital that you’re present.”

“Okay,” Russ said, clearing his throat as Hillary finally moved from his arms and got out of the bed. “We’ll be down shortly.”

“She probably wants us to reengage with Claire. We need to find out who was on the other end of that phone call last night. She seemed upset that they contacted her here.”

It was a quick turn from vulnerability to action on Hillary’s part, but Russ understood that. Nothing felt in their control lately and this was something they could really do. He watched her for a long moment as she gathered up her clothes and headed for the shower. He thought about joining her. No, he did more than think about it. He pictured it. Vividly.

Damn. He’d have to stay in bed a minute longer and instead imagine baseball and the stock market. Anything to get the image of her in the shower out of his mind.

CHAPTER 12

Hillary sat at the long dining table, the vast array of breakfast dishes laid out in front of her—fresh fruit, pastries, rich creamy butter, and more spreads than she could name. She glanced down the table at Claire, who was seated a few chairs away, pushing a slice of toast around her plate without taking a bite. Her eyes darted to the windows and back again, her fingers tapping nervously on the edge of her plate. Something was definitely off.

Hillary took a sip of her coffee and decided to try easing her into conversation. “I was admiring the artwork in the entryway last night,” she said, keeping her tone light and casual. “Do you know if there are any other pieces like that around the estate? I’d love a tour sometime, if you have a minute.”

Claire’s gaze flicked to her, distracted, as though she was only then realizing Hillary was speaking to her. “Oh... um, yes, there are a few pieces. Some in the east wing sitting room, I think.” She paused, her eyes sliding back down to her plate, clearly unsettled.

“Could we go look at them now? I’d love to admire them in the morning light.” Hillary painted on a forced smile and hoped it would be enough to sway Claire to agree.

Before Hillary could follow up, Claire’s grandmother, seated at the head of the table, gave them both a stern look over the rim of her glasses. “Girls, we don’t get up in the middle of breakfast. A proper breakfast is to be enjoyed, not dashed away from like common riff-raff.”

Hillary opened her mouth to respond, but Madame Fournier intervened with a calm, almost conspiratorial smile. “Oh, let them go, Agnès. Perhaps they have a little ‘girl talk’ to catch up on.” She looked pointedly at Claire’s grandmother, her lips quirking as she added, “Perhaps Hillary has a suiter that might be a good fit for Claire. Let them go.”

Agnès pursed her lips, but she said nothing, only sniffing as if to suggest that “girl talk” was hardly a proper excuse for disrupting breakfast. Still, she didn’t argue further, and with Madame Fournier’s encouraging nod, Claire stood up, casting a wary glance at her grandmother before heading toward the door.

Hillary quickly followed, sensing Claire’s need for escape, and together they slipped out of the dining room and into the hallway. They approached some of the hanging art but Hillary barely glanced at them, keeping her focus on Claire’s tense posture as they walked.

“Are you alright?” Hillary asked gently once they were out of earshot. “You seem a bit... distracted this morning.”

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