Page 98 of My Rogue, My Ruin
Brynn grinned at her wry expression. “You know I like to be comfortable.” She pulled on her riding boots and secured a lightweight wool cloak over her shoulders. She paused at the door. “Thank you, Lana,” she said quietly.
“You are welcome, my lady. I did try my best to secure the braid, but it really is too slippery for the combs.”
“No, not for my hair. For everything. For keeping my secrets and going beyond the boundaries of what would be expected of a lady’s maid. I hope you know that I consider you a friend, and you may ask me for anything, should you need it.”
Something indescribable shone in Lana’s eyes but was quickly hidden as a smile shaped her mouth. She fell into a curtsy. “The feeling is quite mutual, my lady. Now go enjoy your ride before the thunderstorm makes an unwelcome appearance.”
Brynn shook her head, pointing to the near perfect sky beyond the window. “You are surely imagining things.”
But as Brynn raced Apollo across Ferndale’s expansive grounds, she realized that Lana’s premonition might come true after all. The clouds were rolling in, thick and dark and ominous. She wasn’t worried, though. She’d have more than enough time to return to the stables before it started raining.
She stretched forward—her hair long since fallen loose from the braid and its clips—and nudged the stallion into a canter. After a while, she gave Apollo his head and sank low in the saddle, holding fast with her legs. Grinning with delight, she hung over his neck as he soared over the low hedges bordering Archer’s property. She knew Archer wouldn’t mind. A smile touched her lips as they neared the river, remembering how imperious she had been when she had warned him of trespassing. Now she was guilty of doing the same. It seemed like a lifetime had passed since the boar—a lifetime of stolen moments and false promises.
A lifetime of lies.
She slowed the horse, leading him to the river’s edge where the embankment flattened and dismounted. She hadn’t been alone since Eloise’s death. Hadn’t truly wanted to be. She feared the silence and the freedom to think about what had happened that night in the mews. Only she, Archer, Gray, and Lana knew the truth, and they had done their best to preserve Eloise’s memory. It all still felt like a nightmare to Brynn. That Eloise, so sweet and friendly and composed, could have been capable of such calculating and cold hatred for so many years was incomprehensible. Then again, love was such a capricious thing—it could lift one to the highest of highs and drag one to the lowest of lows. She stood there, wrapping her arms around her middle, and did the very thing she hadn’t allowed herself to do yet—she let the tears come.
The slight rustle of the grass alerted her to someone else’s arrival. That, and a sudden deep throb of her heart. It was as if it had recognized him long before she had.
“Lady Briannon,” Archer said softly.
She quickly wiped her cheeks on her sleeve. “So formal, Your Grace.”
“May I join you?”
“I believe you may do whatever you wish,” she said, smiling through the remnants of her tears, her heart trembling in her chest. It was extraordinary how the mere brush of his voice had come to affect her so. “It is your property, after all.”
“I do not want to intrude.”
Brynn turned then, letting her eyes feast on him as he stood beside his horse. He looked tired. Tired, and heartbreakingly beautiful. She wanted nothing more than to throw herself into his arms, but Brynn kept herself perfectly still. “How are you?” she asked instead.
He frowned and glanced away. “As well as can be expected.”
“And Brandt?”
“He is recovering.” Archer hesitated before taking the few steps to stand at her side. He clasped his hands behind his back, and she held hers in a death grip. Every part of her body strained toward him, the draw to him magnetic. “He says to convey his gratitude, by the way. He is indebted to you.”
“It was nothing.”
After a few moments of silence, he lifted his eyes to hers. “Brynn—”
The first clap of thunder rumbled overhead, silencing him. He brushed a hand through his hair as if fighting to find the words, and the tortured look in his eyes made everything inside her crumble.
She swallowed and raised a trembling palm to stop him. “I saw the notice in theTimes.”
He frowned again, but before he could speak, she leaped to continue.
“If you intend to apologize, please—there is no need. I am only glad things worked out in our favor. Didn’t we agree that it would be a ghastly union?” Brynn asked, attempting to smile. Her trembling chin wouldn’t support it. “And I know you never wanted to be saddled with a wife.”
Her voice broke as the words tumbled out, leaving her empty and aching, but she’d had to say them. Before he did, at any rate. She still had some measure of pride left, and she wouldn’t let him strip it from her.
Archer cleared his throat, his gaze sliding across to her. “You’re right, I didn’t. After what my father did to my mother and to Eloise’s mother, I thought I would be just like him. The apple not falling far from the tree, and all that.”
She bit the inside of her cheek to steady her quivering lips. He didn’t truly believe that, did he?
“You are nothing like him,” Brynn replied fiercely. “Nothing.”
Archer relented with a small grin. “I realized the same not too long ago. In part, I have you to thank for that.”
