CHAPTER 115: CHAPTER HUNDRED AND FIFTEEN

The carriage wheels crunched softly against the gravel, the sound loud in the quiet, pre-dawn air. It was a rhythmic, lulling noise, but inside the dark cabin, neither Ines nor Carcel was sleeping.

They were sitting side by side on the velvet seat. Carcel’s arm was wrapped around Ines’s shoulders, holding her close to his side. Ines rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady, strong beat of his heart. It was slower now than it had been in his study, steady and reassuring.

She pulled the rough wool cloak tighter around herself. Underneath, she was still wearing Edith’s gray maid uniform. It felt strange against her skin now—scratchy and foreign—but it also felt like a secret badge of honor.

The carriage began to slow.

Ines sat up, pulling away from his warmth. The loss of contact made her shiver.

"We are here," she whispered, peering out the small window.

She could see the tall, wrought-iron gates of the Hamilton estate looming in the mist. The house beyond was dark, a sleeping giant. The windows were black eyes, seeing nothing.

Carcel signaled to the driver by tapping on the roof. The carriage came to a smooth, rocking halt just outside the side gate—the servant’s entrance. It was the most discreet place. The safe place.

Carcel turned to her. In the dim light of the carriage lamp, his face was serious. He looked tired, the shadows under his eyes deep, but there was a peace in his expression that hadn’t been there before.

"Ines," he said softly.

He reached out and adjusted the hood of her cloak, pulling it forward to hide her face, just in case a stable boy or an early-rising milkman was about.

"Wait here," he instructed.

He opened the carriage door. The cool night air rushed in, smelling of damp earth and dew. Carcel stepped down first. His boots hit the ground with a solid thud. He looked left, then right, scanning the shadows with the sharp, alert gaze of a soldier.

The coast was clear.

He turned back to the open door and extended his hand.

Ines took it. His grip was warm and firm. It was like an anchor.

"Thank you," she said, her voice barely a whisper as he helped her down from the high step. "Thank you for bringing me here. And... for everything."

She wasn’t just thanking him for the ride. She was thanking him for the night. For the pleasure. For the love.

Her feet touched the ground. She stood close to him, hidden in the shadow of the carriage. The horse stamped a hoof, breathing out a cloud of white mist.

Carcel didn’t let go of her hand. He held it between both of his, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles. He looked at the gate, then back at her.

"I feel reluctant," he admitted, his voice low and rough. "I feel reluctant to leave you here. To let you walk back into that house alone."

He looked at the dark path leading to the kitchen door. It was only a hundred yards, but to him, it felt like a mile of danger.

Ines squeezed his hand. She felt it too. The pull. The magnetic force that wanted to keep them together.

"Me too," she whispered.

She looked up at him. "I wish I could stay. I wish I didn’t have to go back to being Lady Ines for a few more hours. I liked being... just Ines. Your Ines."

Carcel smiled sadly. He released her hand, but only to reach for her cloak.

The rough wool had slipped a little from her shoulders. He pulled the edges of the cloak together, his hands brushing against her neck. He was careful. He was precise. He buttoned the clasp at her throat, ensuring she was completely covered, completely warm.

He smoothed the fabric over her shoulders, his hands lingering there. He looked down at her, his expression hardening slightly.

"But you know," he said, his tone shifting from lover to guardian. "You can’t do things like this again."

He looked her in the eye, making sure she was listening.

"Don’t come out like this again," he commanded softly. "Running in the dark. Wearing a disguise. Without a guard. Without a carriage."

He remembered the panic he had felt when Lloyd told him a maid was at the door. He remembered the terrifying thought of her alone on the road.

"It’s too dangerous," he said. "If anything happened to you... if anyone hurt you... I would never forgive myself."

Ines saw the worry in his eyes. It was a caring expression. He wasn’t trying to lock her up; he was trying to keep her safe so they could have a future.

She nodded.

"I understand," she said obediently. "I promise. I won’t do anything like this again. I wont let you get worried."

Carcel let out a breath. He believed her.

His hands moved from her shoulders to her face. He cupped her cheeks, his thumbs stroking the soft skin beneath her eyes.

"Good," he murmured.

He smiled then. It was a slow, beautiful smile that lit up the shadows. It was a promise of its own.

"Don’t worry," he whispered. "You won’t have to sneak out to see me. Not for long."

He leaned his forehead against hers.

"Soon," he promised. "Soon, I will always be by your side. Every night. Every morning. You will just have to turn over in bed, and I will be there."

Ines closed her eyes, savoring the image. No more cold sheets. No more lonely nights writing stories about imaginary men.

"Just wait a little longer," he said. "Just a few weeks. Until the wedding. We can do that."

"A few weeks," Ines repeated. It sounded like an eternity, but also like a blink of an eye.

She opened her eyes. She looked at his mouth.

She couldn’t leave him like this. Not with just words.

She stood on her tiptoes.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him down to her level. The wool of her cloak bunched between them, but she didn’t care.

"I can hardly wait," she whispered against his lips.

And then, she kissed him.

It wasn’t a hungry, desperate kiss like the ones in the library. It wasn’t a passionate, consuming kiss like the ones on the sofa.

It was a sweet kiss. It was a soft kiss. It was a kiss of goodbye, but also a kiss of hello to the future.

Carcel kissed her back gently, his hands holding her face, memorizing the feel of her.

They stood there for a long moment in the shadow of the gate, hidden from the world, sharing a breath.

Finally, Ines pulled back.

"Go," she whispered. "Before the sun comes up. Before Rowan comes home."

Carcel nodded. He stepped back, his hand trailing down her arm until their fingertips brushed and then separated.

"Go inside," he said. "Lock the door."

Ines turned. She walked to the small side gate. She opened it quietly. She looked back one last time.

Carcel was still standing by the carriage, watching her. He wouldn’t move, she knew, until she was safely inside.

She smiled at him, a flash of white in the darkness. Then she slipped through the gate and ran lightly toward the kitchen door, her heart full.