Chapter 21
Chapter
Twenty-One
LAUREN
T he gravel crunches loudly under my boots as I march away from the manor.
I’m proud of myself for not running. I could’ve, God knows I wanted to, but I kept my spine straight and my chin high.
Like a soldier refusing to break ranks. He’s probably got cameras everywhere, hidden in those ivy-covered walls, watching me.
Let him see this: Lauren Hutton, unyielding, unbreakable.
But the second I reach my cottage, the facade cracks.
I push the door shut and fumble with the lock.
Leaning against the door, I let out a shaky breath, then another, and another, gulping air like I’ve been underwater too long.
My hands lift, hovering in front of my face, and they’re shaking—actually shaking—like the aftershock of a storm.
My knees wobble as dizziness creeps in. I squeeze my eyes shut, hoping to will my heart to slow.
Big mistake.
The darkness behind my lids is a canvas for him. His face, his lips, that kiss—unwanted, unexpected, and yet… I melted. I should’ve shoved him away, should’ve been repulsed the moment he touched me, but my body betrayed me and became as soft as wax under his heat.
Disgust curls in my gut now, not just at him but at me.
How could I fold like that? That rush, the pleasure and flood of emotions from one damn kiss…
It’s too much. My hands clench into fists and press harder against my thighs.
Is this why I’ve been so sharp with him from the start?
Because I always knew he had the power to reduce me to this trembling mass of jelly.
His face flashes in my mind—those gray eyes, that jawline sharp enough to cut glass—and I hate how it stirs me. He’s handsome, but I’ve met plenty of good-looking men. Why does he have the power to turn me into this spineless mess?
I turn and press my burning forehead to the door, the coolness a small mercy. I’ve lost something today—control, maybe, or dignity—and he knows it. He’s got the upper hand now, and the thought makes my stomach twist with bitter anger.
I push off the door, my eyes landing on the chaos of my cottage: paint cans stacked like sentinels, brushes strewn across the floor, the promise of work I was so eager for this morning.
Now? It’s a taunt. Exhaustion hits like a wave, and hunger gnaws at my empty stomach, but I can’t face any of it.
I stumble to the sofa, collapsing onto its worn cushions.
Sleep, I think. Just sleep it off.
But sleep won’t come. I toss, staring at the cracked ceiling, then the window where dusk is creeping in.
My mind’s a traitor, replaying his hands, his breath, the way my body sang under his touch.
I groan, dragging my hands over my face, and grab my phone.
It’s late in Chicago, but I need to speak to Sandy.
I dial, my thumb hesitating only a second before I hit call.
She picks up, voice groggy. “Lauren? Hi. Are you okay?”
“I’m so sorry,” I blurt, wincing. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“It’s fine, no big deal,” she says. I can hear her shifting, sitting up, the rustle of sheets. “What’s wrong?”
Guilt pricks me—she’s worried now, and I hate dragging her into this mess. “I’m sorry,” I say again. “It’s… so stupid and it’s not a big deal, I can call you tomorrow?—”
“No way,” she cuts in, sharper now. “I’m up. Needed to pee anyway, and I was this close to dreaming I was on a toilet and peeing to my heart’s content. You know those dreams, right? Anyway, disaster avoided, thanks to you.”
I snort, a small laugh breaking through the fog. “What about Daniel? Isn’t he there?”
“Not tonight,” she says. “You’ve got me all to yourself. Now spill—what’s got you like this?”
I hesitate, the words tangling in my throat. “I… went to his manor,” I admit.
Her gasp is instant, electric and full of excitement. “Oh, wow! You finally gave in.”
“What do you mean ‘gave in’?” I ask defensively. “I never planned to go at all.”
“Okay, okay,” she says. “Don’t bite my head off. I’m on your side and I’m just glad things have got… interesting for you.”
“Interesting is not how I would put it,” I mutter, sinking deeper into the sofa. “I think I’m in trouble.”
“Trouble?” Her voice becomes concerned. “What happened? What’d he do?”
“It’s not just him—it’s me, too. We’re both…” I curse under my breath, frustrated. “I went to make him stop, Sandy. The constant invitation to tea, the constant offers to buy my land, all of it. I wanted him to back off. But then we were arguing, like always, and suddenly his hand was on me?—”
“What?” she interrupts, panicked.
“Not like that,” I say quickly, my face heating as I remember. “It was… God, I can still feel the warmth of his fingers. He kissed me.”
Sandy’s speechless for a beat, then, “Ohhh, that kind of grab. Okay, so what happened?”
“I don’t know,” I groan. “His eyes, or the heat from his body, but I… I kissed him back. Or at least, I didn’t stop him. All my fight, my strength, just… went. I melted, Sandy, like some cheap candle from the dollar store, and I hate that.”
“So you didn’t want it?” she interrogates.
“If I didn’t want it, I would’ve shoved him off the second he tried. That’s the problem. I should’ve been disgusted, but I wasn’t. I folded, and now he knows I’m attracted to him. Ugh, I’m so angry with myself, I want to scream.”
“Whoa, hold on there. Why are you so angry with yourself? First of all, it’s not a crime to kiss a guy, but let’s dissect this a little more. You don’t kiss random guys, Lauren. This is new. Is he really that hot?”
“It’s not just that,” I explain quietly “I’ve met hot guys in Chicago, and they never affected me like this. Maybe he slipped something in the tea?—”
“You don’t really believe that, do you?”
“No,” I admit reluctantly.
“So no drugs to blame,” she says, half-teasing. “Just you and him.”
“Yup,” I mutter. “That’s why I’m calling. I need someone to blame, although I know it’s just me being… weak.”
“You’re not weak,” she says fiercely. “You’re human and you’re all alone in strange surroundings. Maybe it’s also because he’s the only hot guy around, you know? Small village, big impact.”
I roll my eyes but consider it, grasping for any explanation. “Maybe,” I concede. “But I need to move past this. It’s not happening again. I’ll have to stay far away from him.”
“Sure,” Sandy says skeptically. “But will he stay away from you?”
I groan, the truth of it stinging. “You’re not helping.”
“Okay, hear me out,” she says, her voice brightening. “Maybe the way to solve this is for you to meet other people. This intensity? It’s probably because he’s next door, the only guy you’ve really met. Didn’t you say you met some folks in town?”
“I did,” I say, thinking of Annabel. “A girl invited me to a pub. She said there’d be guys there.”
“You hate pubs,” Sandy points out, laughing. “I always had to drag you.”
“I do,” I admit. “But after losing my mind over one kiss, maybe I need to meet other men. Remind myself he’s just… a guy. Even if he smells better and looks better and?—”
“Not helping yourself,” she teases.
I laugh, the sound easing some of the weight.
“Fine,” she continues confidently. “Take that girl up on her offer. Go out, have fun. You’ve been working nonstop—moving, fixing that cottage. You’re wound tight, Lauren. A night out could reset you, shake this off.”
She’s right. The idea clicks, like a key turning in a lock. A night out, new faces. It’ll ground me, pull me back to myself. “Yeah,” I say, nodding to the empty room. “That’s exactly what I’ll do.”
“Good,” Sandy squeals. “And keep me posted. I’m stuck with kids all day—I need this drama. You’re my entertainment now.”
I smile, tension draining. “I promise. Thanks, Sandy.”
Outside, the sun is sinking low, painting the walls gold.
It’s too early for bed, but the thought of tackling paint cans or sweeping floors is unbearable.
I curl up on the sofa, pulling a blanket over me, and grab my phone again.
Annabel’s number is there, saved from our chat in town. My fingers hover, then type:
Hey, I’m free this weekend. If you’re still up for that pub night, let me know. I’d love to come.
I hit send. The message is a small act of rebellion, a step toward reclaiming myself. My eyes drift shut, heavy at last, and I let the world fade, determined to leave the Duke of Beauclerk behind.