Page 62 of A Fragile Enchantment

Her stomach fluttered again at the memory, and a sparkling, giddy feeling unfurled through her.Is this a dream?she’d asked him. Even now, she couldn’t convince herself that any of it was real. He’d trusted her with his heart. And for those hazy, delirious hours, he’d convinced her that she mattered enough to take something for herself.

A terrible bittersweetness came over her then. Never once had she believed she’d get to feel that way, consumed by passion against her good sense, seen and desired for exactly who she was. Never once had she believed a girl like her would ensnare aprincein some sort of torrid, ill-advised affair. Of course, it could never happen again. But for one night, she’d been truly awake and alive—almost incandescently joyous. She would carry this secret with her forever, as warm and bright as a flame cupped in her hands. It was all hers, and it would burn hot enough to sustain her for the rest of her life. It had to. As much as she yearned for more, she could not stand in Kit’s way. She would finish this job, and that would be the end of it.

Her very soul felt raw.

But if nothing else, she was safe. If anyone truly knew what had happened, they would not have waited to drag her out of this room by her hair and do… well, whatever it was the Avlish did with women who aspired beyond their station.

Groaning, she flopped back onto the mattress and stared the ceiling. Her fingers traced the outline of her chapped lips. If she closed her eyes, she could almost feel him there.

“Miss?”

Niamh startled. A girl stood in the doorway—a housemaid, from the look of her uniform, but she wore the colors of another noble family. She hadn’t heard her knock at all, but she’d been so engrossed in her own thoughts. The entire world appeared to heras though behind a wall of glass. Gods, she needed to go back to sleep.

“Oh,” Niamh said breathlessly. “Hello.”

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” she said, “but His Highness asked for you to get ready. His carriage is departing in a half hour.”

Leaving already.She supposed it made sense. With no staff of his own, Jack could not entertain properly. His pride was surely smarting.

It took what little energy she had to climb out of bed and ready herself. Once she’d packed up the last of her things and had them brought downstairs, she wandered the halls of Woodville as though stumbling through a dream. She dragged herself through the front door and came face-to-face with the moonlit fields outside the estate. They shone with still, deep puddles of mud and rainwater and hummed with the song of crickets. The breeze tasted cool and sweet, and tangled in the loose strands of her hair. Niamh folded her arms over the granite balustrade of the terrace and let it support her weight. If she just laid her head down, she could drift off right here.

Someone stepped onto the terrace. “Miss O’Connor.”

Blearily, Niamh turned toward the voice. Jack stood beside her, his arms crossed behind his back and his gaze trained on the horizon. Even in the dark, his amber eyes glowed, just like his brother’s. His wan face and rigid shoulders brought a wave of sympathy crashing over her. Now, she could see the texture of the last five years he’d endured. No father, no mother, and a brother careening toward his own ruin. He’d lost so much, but she very much doubted he’d allowed himself to grieve at all. He’d only immediately set to work filling in the gaps left behind.

He frowned at her. “You look pale. My brother tells me you took ill?”

“I’m afraid so.” She couldn’t tell him the truth of her illness, lest he thought her incapable of finishing the job. So she settled on acomfortable lie, even as her legs threatened to buckle beneath her. “I caught a chill in the rain.”

“We are borrowing a carriage, so I cannot send you back on your own. I see now that may for the best.” He offered his arm to her. “Allow me.”

“That is far too kind, sir. I have imposed on you so much already.”

“It isn’t worth mentioning.” Jack allowed her to lean on him as he led her down the stone pathway and through another overgrown garden. The grass sighed restlessly as they passed, quivering in the wind. “I want to apologize for my behavior yesterday.”

Her toe caught on a loose flagstone, and he steadied her immediately with an alarmed sound. His apologies never grew less strange or startling. “Your Highness, you do not need to apologize to me.”

“But I do.” Jack stopped in front of the carriage door, his brows knitted in a preoccupied frown. “You have been subjected to far too many family squabbles.”

“All is forgiven. None of us can be unfailingly patient, sir.” She offered him a small smile. “But if you will forgivemefor asking, have you apologized to your brother?”

It slipped out. Jack blinked, stunned. Niamh clapped a hand to her mouth. Why, ohwhy,could she never keep her impertinent questions to herself? Her delirium did not help matters.

“No,” he conceded. “But that is…” He cleared his throat. “That is wise counsel. I will take it into account.”

He handed her off into the carriage. Sofia already waited for them inside—and there, twisted into a remarkably compact shape, was Kit. The sight of him cut through her haze and sent her heart tripping over itself. Never in her life had she so desperately wanted to touch someone—to talk to someone. She met his reflected gaze in the window, and all of the air promptly fled her lungs. The heat in his eyes obliterated every conscious thought. How could shehave been so foolish as to believe that it would be easy to content herself with only one night?

“Y-Your Highness,” she stammered.

An enchanting shade of red spread across his neck. “Miss O’Connor.”

It took everything in her not to react. He’d never once called her that in the weeks they’d known each other, and the stilted formality of it delighted her far more than it should. Not to mention that blush—after how very bold he’d been with her.

Sofia’s gaze bounced back and forth between them, looking far too canny for Niamh’s taste. If she had an opinion on the matter, she did not share it.

Jack pointedly cleared his throat. It was then she realized she’d been looming in the doorway this entire time. She clambered onto the seat beside Kit. His every muscle coiled with awareness of her, and the bare sliver of space between them crackled with tension. It would be a simple thing to place her hand beside his. She longed for casual intimacy: entwining their littlest fingers, nuzzling into his shoulder, or sinking into the comforting weight of his arm around her. But she supposed she was forever cursed to long for things she could not have.

She followed Kit’s lead and looked out her own window. Within minutes, the ivy-curtained facade of Woodville Hall receded behind the hills. How sad that she would never see it again. Soon enough, the thick silence and the steady rock of the carriage lulled her slowly, softly. Her eyelids drooped, and her forehead rested against the glass.