Page 75 of Hawthorne

Or a future one, probably.

As Vincent finally lets Primrose go, he turns to me with a smirk. It almost makes my legs falter.Almost.

“Ready?”

“What for, Your Grace? I still don’t know what this is all about.”

“Little Milla, we have the entire property to ourselves today, and I’ll be damned if I don’t get to enjoy this carefree day with you.”

His eyes twinkle with some hidden emotion that I can’t quite place, and honestly, the way his words just hit me—and my heart—is too overwhelming.

The words are clear.

Lust. Casual. Simple. No future.

But the actions…Oh, the fucking actions.They tell all the possible opposite things. They ooze foreign emotions and hidden affections. They promise the impossible.

And it makes the selfish part of me come out. The part that is eager to take all that he’s willing to give, eager to say yes and jump into his arms, hoping for the romantic sunset and happily ever after,

In a different world, perhaps.

“But...”

“Would you stop being so uptight for just one day?” he complains while grabbing the basket and swinging one arm around my shoulders. “I know all about the schisms that put whole worlds between us and all the different responsibilities we mustn’t forget. We’ll go back to normal tomorrow, but today…I just want to enjoy you.”

Vincent takes the lead, walking ahead, and I follow closely behind. Primrose is a chaotic mess, either following us around the estate or setting off to bark at some random animal.

“I rarely come to this side of the property,” I admit, looking around the tall trees.

“Well, it’s the best one.”

I nod in agreement. The duke is right. It’s beautiful here.

We’re at the furthest northeast part of the property. Where no other traces of vineyards or stables are visible. The only thing present in this part is nature.

The vibrant green cypresses and pine trees mix with the orange and red of the deciduous trees, mostly maple tree varieties. These cover the land to our left while we stand in a small grass-covered clearing.

In front of us, a couple of ducks are roaming around in the huge lake. Its deep blue hues contrast with the trees’ green. It makes the day brighter by reflecting the sunlight's rare appearance.

Peaceful.

It’s what the rustling of the trees and the light—barely-there—sounds of the water convey. This serenity is only broken by our conversation and Primrose’s runs and light barks.

“It’s stunning,” I mutter.

Not even a beat after, a low “very much so” is muttered, bringing my attention back to him. Instead of looking around us, just as I’d been doing, his dark eyes are focused on me, and the possibility that he meant me instead of the landscape forces a blush out.

A small upward curve tugs at the edges of his lips when his hand caresses my cheeks. Right where they’re burning.

I bet I'm as red as a cherry right now.

As always, his gaze is intense, and because it makes me feel so vulnerable, I choose to look around once again.

“This still belongs to the property, but since it doesn’t need much maintenance, it’s empty more often than not, and I thought it’d be nice to enjoy it before the rainy season starts.”

“It should already have started,” I comment.

It’s nearing November, and even though it’s not hot anymore, it seems like the real cold and rain are late this time around.

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