Epilogue
THREE MONTHS LATER
Crete
The boat rocked gently as Cassian guided it through crystalline waters, the oars cutting smooth lines in the blue.
Cecilia trailed her fingers over the side, marveling at how clear it was, just as he’d told her countless times on their long journey here.
She could see straight to the sandy bottom, could watch fish dart between rocks twenty feet below.
“It’s like glass,” she breathed in wonder.
“Wait until we reach the shallows near the island.” Cassian nodded toward the small landmass ahead, little more than a rocky outcrop crowned with scrub brush and twisted olive trees. “You can see every pebble.”
She smiled at the boyish enthusiasm in his voice.
Two months in Crete had bronzed his skin and lightened his hair at the temples.
He looked younger somehow, or perhaps simply happier.
The tension that had lived in his shoulders in England on the fateful day he’d returned had melted away under the Mediterranean sun.
“How much farther?” she asked.
“Another thirty minutes, perhaps.” He pulled the oars in a steady rhythm, muscles flexing beneath his shirt. “There’s something I want to show you. I found it years ago, on my first voyage out of England.”
“A hidden treasure?”
“Something like that.”
She was about to respond when Cassian suddenly lurched to the side, the boat tipping sharply. Her stomach dropped as he tumbled over the edge with a tremendous splash.
“Cassian!” She lunged for the side, gripping the rail as the boat rocked wildly. The water where he’d fallen was disturbed, foaming white, but he didn’t surface. “Cassian! Where are you!”
Her heart hammered against her ribs. How long had it been? Ten seconds? Twenty? The water settled, then turned calm again, and still nothing.
“Cassian, this isn’t funny!” Her voice pitched higher. She leaned over as far as she dared, scanning the depths. Nothing. Just blue water and distant sand and her own reflection staring back, wide-eyed and pale.
Oh God. What if he’d hit his head? What if he’d caught his foot on something? What if—
He erupted from the water on the other side of the boat, gasping and grinning and very much alive.
Cecilia shrieked and fell backward onto the bench, one hand pressed to her racing heart. “You are truly an incorrigible scoundrel!”
“Your face,” he said, still laughing as he treaded water. “You should have seen your face!”
“I thought you’d drowned!”
“In twelve feet of water?”
“I thought you’d hit your head, or—or—” She couldn’t finish, torn between relief and fury. “That was cruel.”
“That was fun.” He swam closer, catching the side of the boat. Water streamed from his hair, droplets clinging to his lashes. “Come in.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Cecilia...”
“No.”
“The water’s perfect. Warm as a bath.”
She crossed her arms. “You just terrified me. Why in heavens would I—”
He splashed her.
The water hit her square in the face, shockingly cold despite his lies about it being warm. She sputtered, shoving wet hair from her eyes.
“Now you’re already wet,” he pointed out reasonably.
She gasped at his audacity with a hand to her chest as she snapped, “I’m going to push you under and hold you there.”
“Empty threats.” But his grin gentled into something softer. Extending a hand, he said, “Come on. Trust me.”
She wanted to stay angry. Really, she did. But the sunlight on the water and the boyishness in his eyes and the sheer ridiculousness of the situation made her lips twitch.
“If I drown—” she warned, already unlacing her half boots.
“I won’t let you drown. I love you, remember?”
She giggled as she shrugged out of her spencer, then her dress, until she was down to her chemise and stays. Even that felt scandalous, but there was no one for miles. Just them and the sea and the endless blue sky.
Perched on the edge of the boat, she looked down at the water. It seemed much farther now. “I… I don’t know how to swim,” she confessed, blushing a deep crimson.
“I know. That’s why I’m here.” He held out both hands. “Jump. I’ll catch you. Or at least I’ll try,” he grimaced teasingly.
She shot him a cutting glare. Taking a breath, Cecilia jumped.
The water closed over her head, cool and silencing, and for one panicked heartbeat, she was sure she’d sink straight to the bottom. Then Cassian’s hands were there, solid and sure, pulling her up. She broke the surface, gasping, clinging to his shoulders like a feral cat.
“There,” he said quietly. “See? I’ve got you.”
Her feet couldn’t touch the bottom. She was completely dependent on him, on the strength of his arms around her waist, and somehow... that didn’t frighten her at all.
“Now what?” she asked as her teeth chattered in the cold.
“Now we float.”
He talked her through it patiently. How to lie back, how to let the water take her weight, how to trust that it would hold her.
The first few tries, she panicked and flailed, but eventually she managed it.
Cassian’s hand stayed beneath her back, barely touching, just enough to remind her he was there.
The sun warmed her face. The water lapped gently at her ears, muffling sound. Above her, the sky stretched vast and blue, and she felt absurdly, impossibly free.
“I’m doing it,” she said, and couldn’t help her delighted laugh. “I’m floating.”
“You are.” His voice came from somewhere above her. She couldn’t see him without lifting her head, but she could feel him there. “You’re doing perfectly.”
Truly, it was unlike anything she could ever read in her novels. Such freedom was a paradise all on its own—one she might never have known had she not, in a moment of tipsy folly, pressed her lips to this strange, elusive, and irresistibly charming man.
They stayed like that for a long while, until her fingers began to prune and the sun dipped lower. Finally, Cassian towed her back to the boat and helped her climb in. She collapsed on the bench, dripping and breathless and grinning like a fool.
Hauling himself up after her, he asked, “Still angry with me?”
“Furious,” she said, but she was smiling.
By the time they reached the small island off the shores of Crete, late afternoon had softened into early evening.
Cassian secured the boat and helped Cecilia onto the rocky shore, where she stood wringing water from her chemise while he gathered a lantern and flint from the supplies he’d stashed in the bow.
“This way,” he said, offering his hand.
She took it, letting him lead her up a narrow path between wind-twisted trees.
The ground was rough beneath her bare feet, still-damp chemise clinging uncomfortably, but she didn’t complain.
There was something in the set of his shoulders, the careful way he guided her around loose stones, that suggested this mattered to him.
The cave mouth appeared suddenly, a dark split in the rock face half-hidden behind wild rosemary. Cecilia hesitated, and Cassian squeezed her hand.
“It’s safe,” he kissed her temples. “I promise.”
“It’s getting dark…”
“I know. That’s the point, sweetheart. You’ll see.”
Lighting the lantern, he led her inside.
The cave swallowed them immediately. The walls pressed close, the ceiling low enough that Cassian had to duck. The air smelled of stone and salt and something green, like growing things in darkness. Cecilia’s free hand found the wall, steadying herself as they descended.
Just when she was beginning to wonder how much farther they had to go, the passage opened up.
She stopped, breath catching.
The cave had transformed into a cathedral.
The walls soared upward, disappearing into shadow, and directly above them, the ceiling simply wasn’t there anymore.
A massive opening framed the sky, now deepening from blue to indigo as the first stars emerged.
And below that opening, impossibly, a patch of grass grew where sunlight must reach during the day.
Wildflowers dotted the green, closed for the night but still visible in the lantern light.
Moonlight poured through the opening like something liquid, silvering the grass, turning the whole space ethereal.
“Cassian…” she whispered.
He was watching her, not the cave. “Do you like it?”
“It’s… magical.”
Setting the lantern aside, he tugged her down to the grass. It was soft beneath them, slightly damp with dew. Cecilia lay back and stared up at the opening, at the stars beginning to prick through the darkening sky.
Cassian settled beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched. For a while, neither of them spoke.
Finally, his voice quiet, he murmured, “I found this place sixteen years ago. I was eighteen, freshly out of Oxford, and desperate to get as far from England as possible. Hired onto a merchant ship and worked my passage.”
She turned her head to look at him. His profile was stark in the moonlight, all angles and shadows.
“We stopped here for fresh water,” he continued.
“I wandered off while the crew was filling barrels. I should have been helping, really, but I found this cave and went exploring. I was almost left behind as I stayed here for hours, just lying in this spot, looking up at the sky.” He paused.
“It was the first time I’d felt peace since my mother died. ”
Cecilia’s throat tightened. She reached for his hand and laced their fingers together.
“I’ve been back three times over the years,” Cassian went on. “Always alone. I never brought anyone here. Never spoke a word of it to a soul.” He turned to meet her eyes. “I wanted you to be the first person to see it with me.”
“Thank you,” she whispered.
He held her gaze for a long moment, then reached into the bag he’d brought from the boat. He pulled out the book Cecilia.
“I thought I’d left this silly part of my past behind,” she laughed softly.
“It is not a silly part of your past. It might mean little to you, but it meant the world to me.” Opening to the back cover, he tilted it toward the moonlight. “Do you see?”