Page 54 of Dragon King’s Duty Bride

“It’s an art lesson,” she said. “Not a trust fall.”

“I don’t know. You’re suspiciously cheerful.”

She nudged his shoulder. “Lucas.”

He hesitated another second, then sighed. “Fine. But if I end up with a mustache painted on my face, it’s on. Fair warning.”

“Close. Your. Eyes.”

He obeyed.

Immediately the stubborn tension left his shoulders, like the simple act of not having to see the canvas made him less defensive. Sia reached around him slowly, careful, placing her hand over his where he held the brush.

His breath caught.

“Okay,” she said softly and guided his wrist toward the palette. “We’re just going to paint.”

Lucas didn’t open his eyes, but his voice dropped quieter. “You’re very bossy for a teacher.”

“I prefer encouraging.”

Together they dragged the color across the blue he’d painted earlier, the orange bleeding softly into it. The movement was slow, unhurried. Sia adjusted his grip, her thumb brushing against the back of his hand.

“There,” she whispered. “Just like that.”

Lucas exhaled a quiet laugh. “I have absolutely no idea what I’m doing.”

“That’s the point.” Her cheek nearly brushed his shoulder as she leaned closer. “Feel it instead of thinking about it.”

When she felt him stiffen, she reached up and stroked his hair. Her fingers glided across his forehead and his closed eyes, around to his temples. She repeated this with both hands and felt him relax against her.

“Just feel. Let all of your thoughts just turn off and trust the sensations.”

Instead of extending the brush, he turned toward her. “Well,” he said, “if this is how you teach art, I might need more lessons.”

Sia felt warmth rise to her cheeks as Lucas looked at her and something softer settled in his expression.

“Only for you,” she responded.

Her breath softened as he leaned in slowly. There was no urgency, no fear, and no accident. Only choice.

His lips met hers. Warm and certain. The world narrowed to that point of contact and to the quiet hum beneath her skin as she felt the moment that she had been waiting for.

When he drew back, her eyes fluttered open. “It’s the magic of the meadow,” she whispered, breathless.

His thumb lingered at her jaw. “It’s not the meadow.”

She searched his face. There was no resistance there now. Only honesty.

“I owe you something else,” he said quietly.

Her stomach tightened but not with fear. Only anticipation.

“An explanation about how I acted. It was unfair to you that I was loyal,” he continued, “to a memory.”

Dian.

The name hovered unspoken between them. He didn’t look ashamed. Just honest.