Chapter Eighteen
T he evening air carried the scent of fresh earth and hay as Eleanor stepped outside of the farmhouse kitchen. It wasn’t lost on her that she was starting to feel comfortable here, starting to feel more of a sense of belonging.
She stretched, trying to release the tension of a long day on the construction site. It was time for the roof to be done and she was paranoid that Samson was going to leave her precious rooms open to the air, no matter how many times he told her he wasn’t.
She breathed in deeply, the farm settling into the late evening, the sky a beautiful blend of oranges and pinks and purples. It was peaceful, yet she still felt inexplicably restless.
And there was Danni, down in the paddock. So maybe that restlessness wasn’t quite so inexplicable. Eleanor sighed. Danni had her sleeves rolled up, her hair was disheveled, and as Eleanor walked closer, she could see that there was sweat glistening on Danni’s skin as she secured a gate hinge.
She had to stand for a moment, she had to steady herself, watching Danni work, the effortless way she moved, strong and sure. A thought flickered in her mind, so dangerous in its implications that she pushed it quickly away.
“Evening,” Danni said, sensing Eleanor behind her but not turning, intent on her work.
“Evening,” said Eleanor. She wasn’t sure what else to say, so she didn’t say anything.
Sam strolled over to the paddock fence, ears flicking against the flies, coming closer to nuzzle at Eleanor, looking for treats. Which gave Eleanor an idea, something that might help her restlessness. “Mind if I take Sam for a ride?” she called out.
Danni did turn around now, brows lifting in surprise. “No one rides Sam.”
“No one?” Eleanor asked, tilting her head. “Or just no one else?”
Danni hesitated before sighing. “Fine. But he’s a rough ride. If you fall off and break a leg, don’t come running to me.”
“Well, I wouldn’t, would I?” Eleanor said reasonably as she led Sam toward the gate. “Not with a broken leg.”
Danni grunted and opened the gate to let Sam out of the paddock.
Saddling the horse was second nature. Eleanor’s hands worked deftly, years of muscle memory kicking in.
Swinging into the saddle, she barely had to touch her thighs to Sam’s side before he set off at an easy trot through the stable yard and out into the paddock and from there the open fields. So much for a rough ride.
The breeze tugged at her hair as Eleanor let Sam stretch his legs, reveling in the familiar rhythm of riding, the steady movement beneath her. It had been years since she’d just ridden, just for pleasure, for the joy of it. But it was instinctual, which gave her mind time to wander again.
She’d been out of sorts ever since that night with Elizabeth. And the reason was very clear.
Eleanor prided herself on her ability to control her emotions, her ability to remain pragmatic, detached even, when necessary.
Yet Danni unsettled her in ways that she wasn’t sure how to process. There was something infuriatingly captivating about her. Her confidence, her ease, the way she seemed to exist so solidly in her own skin. Okay, so she was irritating. Annoying even.
But then there was the absolutely undeniable fact that Danni was, objectively, a very attractive woman. All the willpower in the world couldn’t make Eleanor deny that.
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had actual feelings.
Not real ones. Not ones that made her cheeks flush and her heart feel funny.
She was a busy woman, she’d always kept herself busy.
An estate relied on her. Even now, with the house closed for renovations, she had a host of workmen that needed to be paid.
Once the house was done, there’d be estate workers and house staff and all the rest of it.
She didn’t have time for anyone.
Until now.
But, and here was the crux of the matter, this wasn’t a real marriage.
This was an arrangement. A business transaction.
Which meant she shouldn’t, couldn’t, take advantage of Danni.
But it was getting harder and harder to remember that, when she caught Danni looking at her in a certain way, or when their hands brushed by accident, and Eleanor’s stomach did an annoyingly traitorous little flip.
And when she could see from Danni’s looks that she might not be the only one having these thoughts.
Things could get messy, she told herself. Ah, yes, but then things might not, said another half of her brain. Hardly helpful.
She sighed and tugged on the reins, guiding Sam back toward the farm, determined to shake whatever foolish thoughts had begun creeping into her mind.
Danni was waiting for her when she returned, leaning against the gate, arms crossed over her chest, watching her approach with an unreadable expression.
“Huh. You weren’t lying,” Danni said, as Eleanor dismounted with practiced ease. “You can ride.”
“I did tell you,” said Eleanor, hooking Sam’s rein to the gatepost. “My mother gave me my first riding lesson when I was three.” She hesitated for a moment. “It’s, um, I think it’s the only thing I really remember about her.”
There was a second of silence. Then Danni said, “That must be difficult. ”
“I don’t know any different,” Eleanor said, stroking Sam’s nose.
Silence stretched between them, heavier than before, and Eleanor didn’t really know what to say to break it. In the end, she went with something that had been on the edges of her mind. “I’ve met your brother.”
“You lucky thing, you,” said Danni.
“You said your mother was up at the farm too, though. I haven’t met her.”
Danni shifted, her easy demeanor faltering. “It’s complicated.”
“So you’ve said,” said Eleanor, turning now as Sam bent to crop some grass by the fence.
Danni sighed and looked out over the paddock toward her brother’s farm.
“She and I… She wanted sons. She got Hector. Someone strong to run the farm. Daughters weren’t her thing.
I wasn’t her thing. She… She never thought I could do anything.
It was like I was a disappointment before I even tried, I dunno. ”
“Danni,” Eleanor said softly.
“Then she found out I brought this place and called me an idiot and a hundred other names and we argued and, well, I haven’t really spoken to her since. She’s up there, I see her sometimes when I get the post and what-not, but we don’t really talk.”
Eleanor studied Danni for a moment. “Do you miss her?”
“Not really,” said Danni, shaking her head.
Eleanor turned toward the horizon where the sun was starting to sink, turning all of the light orange. “Sometimes, I’m glad I don’t have to deal with parents,” she admitted.
“That’s a bit morbid, Princess,” Danni said, cocking an eyebrow.
“It is, isn’t it?” said Eleanor, smiling a little.
The breeze picked up, carrying the cool scent of damp earth and hay. Eleanor shivered slightly, her t-shirt offering little protection against the night air.
Danni grumbled something and reached over to grab her shirt, which was still hanging over the fence. “Here.”
Eleanor hesitated for only a second, looking at Danni in her tank-top, before she accepted the shirt.
Danni laid it around her shoulders, the warmth of it enveloping her immediately.
It smelled of earth and cedar and hay and so entirely like Danni that Eleanor lost her breath for a moment, closing her eyes, taking in the scent.
When she looked up, Danni was watching her, something flickering behind her dark eyes. Eleanor lost her breath all over again.
The air between them shifted, suddenly thicker, charged with something that Eleanor couldn’t identify, a promise that she had no words for.
The hum of the night, the hiss of the breeze, faded to nothing and Eleanor became acutely, exquisitely aware of just how close they were standing, of the way that Danni’s gaze dropped, just for a second, to her lips.
Eleanor knew that she should say something, that she should step back, that she should break this tension.
Instead, she found that she was frozen, trapped in the pull of a riptide that she couldn’t name.
And Danni was the one that reached up, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from Eleanor’s face. It was barely anything, the faintest whisper of contact, but Eleanor felt it like a brand.
Which meant that she was the one that leaned in, drawn by this invisible force.
She was the one that brushed her lips against Danni’s until, inevitably, they were kissing.
It was soft and tentative at first, as if neither of them could quite believe that they were doing it. But then, something gave way, and Eleanor found that she was pressing herself closer, her hands curling onto the straps of Danni’s tank as the kiss deepened.
Danni made a small, surprised sound in her throat before responding in kind, her hands finding Eleanor’s waist, grounding her, steadying her in a way that Eleanor hadn’t known she needed .
The moment stretched out, perfect and fragile all at once, into the deepening twilight.
And then…
A distant rumble of thunder broke them apart.
Eleanor stepped back quickly, breath unsteady, heart hammering against her ribs.
Danni looked just as stunned, lips parted, eyes dark in the dim light.
Neither of them spoke.
And then, just as if the moment hadn’t unraveled something in both of them, Eleanor cleared her throat and said, “I should go.”
Danni said nothing, and Eleanor took a step back, then another, then turned and began to walk away.
And nothing was going to be the same again.