“If you are unfamiliar with the space, it can be easy to slip. My mother used to bring me here when I was a lad, she’d tell me stories from books she’d read set in ruins like this, bringing it all to life. It was wonderful. After her death, I’d often come here to reminisce about the tales she spun,” he said with a smile and Emma felt the longing he had for his mother.
He held onto her a moment longer than necessary before gently releasing her. “Let’s sit,” he suggested, guiding her to a low stone wall that had once bordered the monastery garden.
Emma winced as she sat, her ankle still sore from the slip. Evan noticed immediately. “Here,” he said, kneeling in front of her. He lifted her leg carefully, his hands warm and firm as he began to rub her ankle. His touch was gentle, yet it sent a spark of warmth up her leg.
She watched him, her breath catching in her throat. The intimacy of the moment—the ruins, the golden light filtering through the broken arches, his hands on her—felt almost unreal.
As if drawn by some invisible force, their eyes met. Evan’s gaze softened, and he leaned forward, brushing his lips against hers in a tender, lingering kiss. Emma closed her eyes, letting herself melt into the warmth of his embrace.
When they finally pulled back, Emma chuckled softly.
Evan raised an eyebrow, a playful smile on his lips. “What’s so funny?”
“This is so romantic,” Emma admitted, “I could use it as inspiration for a dozen stories.”
Evan grinned. “Is that so? Perhaps you should finishThe Silent Dukefirst.”
Emma’s eyes widened in surprise. “How do you know aboutThe Silent Duke?”
He rubbed the back of his neck, looking sheepish. “The night I covered you with that blanket... I saw the pages. I didn’t mean to pry, but I thought it was beautiful.”
Her cheeks flushed. “You shouldn’t have read it! It wasn’t finished. I rarely show my stories, and certainly not the unfinished ones.”
“I know,” Evan said softly. “I had no intentions of snooping. I just... I assumed it was about me. Reading it—seeing how you viewed me—it made me want to change.”
Emma’s heart fluttered. “Then it’s working. I always hoped my stories would affect people positively.”
Evan smiled, his eyes filled with admiration. “They certainly do.”
They sat in silence for a while, watching the sun sink lower in the horizon. The chill of dusk crept through the ruins, and Emma instinctively pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders, her breath misting in the cool air. She shivered, the sharpness of the evening's bite creeping into her bones.
Evan noticed immediately. Without a word, he shifted off the low stone wall and draped his coat over her shoulders. The warmth of the fabric surrounded her, offering instant comfort, and she looked up at him in silent thanks.
"You shouldn't have," she murmured, still caught in the comfort of the moment.
"Anything to keep you warm," Evan said softly, his gaze lingering on her.
They fell into a quiet silence, the only sounds being the occasional rustle of leaves as the wind continued its gentle caress through the trees. Then, after a moment, Evan spoke again, his voice hesitant yet curious. "You never really talk about your parents, Emma. What was your childhood like? I mean, before your mother passed. I know it has been difficult since."
Emma blinked, taken slightly aback. The question had caught her off guard, but something about the tranquility of the moment and the warmth of Evan’s coat urged her to share. She looked out across the ruins, her mind going back to a simpler time.
"We were happy, back then. I do not remember much of my mother but I do remember she was tender, kind. I know my father was different. He loved her, truly loved her. They were... very in love," she said softly, a wistful smile gracing her lips. "When I was younger, they would always laugh together, walk hand in hand everywhere they went. It was so sweet, so... wonderful. I used to think all marriages were like that, full of love and laughter."
Evan, who had been listening intently, frowned slightly. "I thought you didn't get along with your father. Didn't care for him, or was that later?"
Her heart skipped, and Emma swallowed before answering, her voice lowering. "He... he was different back then. When he was in love, when he was happy, he was a different man. He was kind. Loving. He..." Her throat tightened, and she exhaled sharply, trying to steady herself. "He wasn’t always the bitter, angry drunkard you see now."
Evan's hand instinctively found its way to her back, his warm fingers resting lightly along her spine, a soothing pressure in the quiet darkness. "What changed?" he asked gently.
Emma’s gaze flickered downward, her expression pained. "When my mother died, something inside him broke. It... it wasn't just grief. It changed him—turned him into someone unrecognizable, someone that even I could hardly reach. He became the drunkard who could never see past his own pain. The cruelty, the harsh words... the abuse—it was all too much." Her voice trembled, but she steadied herself. "My brother, sisters and I... we had to grow up too quickly. It wasn’t easy, Evan. It wasn’t fair."
Evan, having moved closer without realizing it, pulled her near to him, one arm gently slipping around her shoulders. He pressed his cheek to the top of her head, whispering low enough for only her to hear, "I understand somewhat about the things you went through, we have abusive, cruel father’s in common. I'm sorry, Emma. You didn't deserve it."
Her chest tightened, but she leaned into him, finding solace in the comfort he offered. "Neither did you," she murmured, her words barely a breath against his shoulder. "Neither did you."
Evan was silent for a moment, taking in the weight of her words. "Our fathers were both flawed men," he said, "but somehow... we survived. We made it. And despite it all, we’re still here, trying to do right, to become something better."
Emma shifted, pulling back slightly to look up at him, her voice steady, though still laced with vulnerability. "You... You're more than just decent, Evan. You're wonderful." Her eyes softened, and her smile returned, gentle and sincere, full of admiration and affection.
