Danger
I stood at the edge of the clearing, the evening shadows stretching long across the grass as I waited at our agreed-upon spot. My heart was hammering against my ribs, a frantic rhythm that matched the racing thoughts in my head. This is madness, I told myself, clutching my shawl tighter. I barely knew this man. I had met him once—a fleeting encounter in the sun—and here I was, risking my father’s trust for a second look.
Was it the thrill of the forbidden? The sheer electricity of doing exactly what I had been told not to do? Or was it truly him? I wondered if I was falling for a ghost of a feeling, a phantom of attraction, until the snap of a twig broke the silence. I spun around, my breath catching, and saw him.
"You actually made it," Anthony said. He was leaning against the trunk of an ancient oak, grinning from ear to ear as if he had never doubted I would show.
"I did," I managed to say, a breathless giggle escaping me as I nodded. "Though my nerves nearly got the better of me."
"You know," he started, pushing off the tree and closing the distance between us with a slow, predatory grace. He wore a small, knowing smirk. "Most fathers in London would have already been more than happy to marry off their daughters to the highest bidder—exchanging a hand for a title or a boost in the family coffers."
"My family is quite comfortable, money-wise."
"Oh really?"
"We have no need for such desperate transactions."
"Is that really true?"
I nodded, smiling.
"Even so, most women your age are already deep in the dance of courting young bachelors. Why is your father so intent on keeping you under lock and key?" Anthony asked with a soft laugh. We fell into step, walking side by side through the dappled light.
"I have always been exceptionally close with my father," I began, stealing a quick glance at his sharp profile before looking straight ahead at the path. "He has always been incredibly loving and kind toward me—and toward my mother, Bethany."
"Your stepmother?" Anthony mumbled, his voice dropping slightly.
I stopped in my tracks, my brow furrowing as I turned to him. "To me, she is my mother," I corrected him firmly. Bethany had loved me, shielded me, and raised me with a devotion that left no room for the word 'step.' I had often wondered about the woman who gave me life, but it was Bethany who had given me a home. "I consider myself lucky; I have two mothers. One in heaven, and one at my side."
"I understand," Anthony said, his laughter dying down as he mirrored my halt. He looked at me with an intensity that felt like a physical touch. "Forgive me, Leila. I didn't mean to offend your loyalties."
"You are forgiven," I assured him, letting the tension bleed out of my shoulders with a nod. "Bethany has never been anything but a blessing to me."
"Do you ever wonder about the other one? Your birth mother?" Anthony asked, his curiosity seeming to sharpen as he started walking again. I followed quickly, staying close to his side.
"When I was a child, I was insatiable. I begged my father for stories every night," I answered. "Their parents—my grandparents—had arranged the marriage for status, as was the custom. But as the years passed, they truly fell in love. He adored Mary."
"Rare," Anthony noted, his eyes scanning the trees. "Most arranged marriages are nothing more than cold contracts for land and lineage."
"It began that way for them, but it grew into something beautiful. I think... I think that’s why my father is so protective," I explained, the realization hitting me as I spoke. "I am the only living thing he has left that reminds him of Mary. Even now, he speaks of her with such a haunting fondness. He still misses her every single day."
"What was her name? Before she became a Pierce?" Anthony asked as he led the way toward the deeper, more secluded parts of the woods.
"Her name was Mary Grey," I answered. I looked around nervously, hoping the dense foliage would hide us from any prying eyes that might recognize the daughter of Darren Pierce wandering with a stranger. Anthony was walking faster now, and I had to quicken my pace to keep up.
"It’s a beautiful name," Anthony said over his shoulder, and I could practically hear the smile in his voice. "Classic. Elegant. Much like yours, Leila."
"Thank you, Anthony," I whispered, smiling at him as he slowed down to meet my gaze.
"Ms. Pierce, you are blushing," Anthony teased, his chest vibrating with a light chuckle.
"I am?" I gasped softly. I stopped and pressed my palms to my cheeks; they were radiating heat, as warm as a summer hearth. My heart skipped a beat as he stopped to look at me, his laughter echoing through the trees.
"You are as red as a summer strawberry," he chuckled.
"We barely know each other, Mr. Stevens, and yet you have managed to charm me quite thoroughly," I giggled, looking up at him through my lashes.
"I know what I want when I see it, and I don't give up easily," Anthony said. He looked down at the forest floor for a moment, his expression shifting into something more serious, more focused. "I chase after what I want until it's mine."
"You sound like a hunter," I laughed, trying to keep the mood light despite the sudden intensity in the air.
"I am a hunter," Anthony responded. He took a deliberate step closer, encroaching on my personal space until I could smell the scent of pine and rain on his coat.
"And what am I to you then, Hunter?" I asked, furrowing my eyebrows, my heart doing a strange little dance in my throat.
"Simple," Anthony murmured, his dark eyes locking onto mine with an unyielding grip. "My prey."
"It won't be easy to claim me," I whispered back, my voice trembling slightly. "I am forbidden from courting until I am seventeen, and even then, my father will be the one to choose. He may not approve of a man who lurks in the woods."
"Like I told you," he softly whispered, his face inches from mine, a dangerous grin spreading across his lips. "I know what I want. And I never, ever give up the chase."
"You sound quite dangerous, Mr. Stevens," I teased, though a shiver that wasn't from the cold raced down my spine.
"Trust me, Leila," he replied, his hand reaching out to lightly, almost reverently, catch my chin between his fingers. "I am."
"I seriously doubt that, you don't scare me."
"You should be."
"You seem much too charming to be truly dangerous."
"You seem very sure of that," Anthony said, his fingers lingering for a second before he let go and stepped back.
"I am certain of it," I replied, nodding with a confidence I didn't entirely feel. I had no idea then how wrong I was.
Passage 6 of 6