Chapter Twenty-One
Maddie’s fingers flexed slightly against the rug as she leaned back on her hands, the fire coaxing heat into her chilled toes.
Her limbs still ached from the cold, but there was a peculiar comfort in this lodge—one she hadn’t anticipated.
Maybe it was the low glow of the fire. Or maybe it was the man sitting a breath away.
She risked a glance at Sebastian. He sat beside her now, not touching, not speaking, just close enough to stir the air between them. His profile was softened by the flickering light, shadows playing across the sharp angle of his jaw, the stubborn slant of his brow.
He looked like temptation.
Unfolded. Relaxed. A little tousled in the most dangerous way.
And entirely unaware of the havoc he caused simply by existing.
But that was the trouble, wasn’t it? He didn’t even know what he did to her. Or maybe he did, maybe he did and he still chose to sit this close, still let the firelight dance across that maddening jaw and let his knee rest just inches from hers.
It wasn’t just that he was beautiful. It was his steadiness. The patience. The unexpected softness that had slowly been peeling away her defenses, one moment at a time. When he wasn’t looking, she looked. And when he was looking, she pretended not to.
Because she wasn’t the sort of girl who did this.
She followed the rules. Or at least… she followed the right ones. The ones that let her keep her freedom, however narrowly. She didn’t stay in lodges with men and allow herself to dream of what if.
And yet here she was. Sitting beside a man who had just risked his life for her.
Who had called her name beneath the snow like it meant something.
Who hadn’t tried to charm her, or flatter her, or coax her into anything she didn’t offer freely, but who still managed to unravel her with a single glance, a single breath.
And the worst part?
She liked it.
No, craved it.
The attention. The safety. The maddening, impossible temptation of being seen for more than her breeding or her usefulness. Just… her.
He looked at her like she wasn’t a problem to solve or a daughter to marry off. Like she wasn’t a scandal waiting to happen. And that was why this moment, this warmth, this closeness, felt less like a dream and more like a revelation.
Maybe that’s why she didn’t pull away. Maybe that’s why she didn’t want to.
Because deep down, she wasn’t afraid of Sebastian’s attention.
She was afraid of how much she wanted it.
“This feels like a dream.”
He tilted his head toward her. “Oh? A dream? How so?”
“I’m not sure,” she admitted. “I mean, it was rather terrifying, but now it’s just… dreamlike. I shouldn’t feel so at peace. I should demand you build me a sleigh and whisk me home like a proper gentleman.”
He smiled, slow and lazy, like he wasn’t in a hurry to be anything except right here. “You’d freeze before we made it down the hill. And besides, I’m not certain I qualify as a proper gentleman after this.”
“No,” Maddie agreed. “You’re something worse.”
He raised a brow. “Worse?”
“Infinitely more dangerous.”
A beat passed. The fire snapped between them, throwing golden light against the walls.
Sebastian leaned back on his elbows. “That sounds suspiciously like a compliment.”
“Of course a man would think dangerous is a compliment.”
“It definitely is.”
She laughed, the sound surging up from her throat before she could stop it. And he grinned at that, unabashed and boyish, and so different from the Sebastian she’d known when this all began. The broody sneezy man.
Or perhaps, not so different at all.
Perhaps she was just seeing what had always been there, beneath the surface. Beneath the careful distance he kept, like a man who’d never expected to want someone close.
He wanted her close.
And, heaven help her, she wanted to close the distance between them too.
Her laughter quieted. Her gaze lingered.
And something in the air shifted.
Sebastian’s smile faded, replaced with something else. “Maddie,” he said, her name almost a whisper. “If this is improper, say the word. I’ll walk back out into that snow and go find help.”
She looked at him, really looked—at the worry in his eyes.
He wasn’t playing games with her. Not now.
Maybe not ever. He was offering her a choice.
And it wasn’t a game. It was a risk. For both of them.
“Just because you’re a man, doesn’t mean you’re invincible.
You’d freeze to death, too. Besides, there is nothing I’d change about this moment. ”
He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. But something shifted in his posture, the tension in his shoulders easing, as though her words had settled something inside him too.
Maddie reached to feed another small log into the fire; the flames crackled their approval. The sound was oddly soothing, like a heartbeat. Steady. Alive.
“You say this feels like a dream,” Sebastian murmured, his voice low and thoughtful. “But what would your real one be? If you could choose. No rules. No scandal. No society.”
She blinked, caught off guard. “You mean… what I’d want? If there were no expectations?”
“No expectations,” he repeated. “Only the truth.”
Maddie wrapped her arms around her legs, resting her chin atop her knees. This was what her friends had asked her too. Not exactly. But about what she wanted. “I don’t know if I’ve ever said it aloud.”
“Say it now.”
Her throat tightened a little. It was easier to laugh. Easier to spar. But this… this was uncharted terrain.
“I suppose,” she said slowly, “I’d like a place of my own. A home of my own. Outside the influence of my mother and sharing the space with someone I love. No balls if I don’t want to, no calling cards if I’m not in the mood. Just my little world.”
Sebastian studied her. “You forgot to list a greenhouse for your herbs.”
“That’s a given.” She glanced over at him, her lips tugging up faintly. “And what about you? What’s your dream?”
His gaze slid toward the fire. “I never had the luxury of dreaming. Not really.”
“You’ve never wanted anything for yourself?”
He exhaled. “Study. To be useful. And lately…” He looked at her then. “To matter. To someone.”
The words landed somewhere soft and deep in her chest, right between the ribs.
“You matter,” she said quietly. “You already do.”
Sebastian shifted a little closer, his thigh brushing hers. The silence that followed wasn’t awkward. It was full. Heavy in the best way.
The fire danced, their joined hands resting between them, and the snow outside pressed soft and silent against the windows.
It was, Maddie thought, the sort of moment that would linger long after the world returned to normal.
A moment suspended in snow light and secrets, and hopeful, even if unspoken, promises.
A dream, perhaps. But one she’d finally allowed herself to want.
To fight for.
*
She was beautiful.
So very beautiful.
Not just in the obvious way. Not just because she made his chest ache and his breath stutter.
But because she was real. She hadn’t fallen apart after their ordeal.
She hadn’t complained about the hike to the lodge or the scandal they were inviting by being here together.
Instead, she’d laughed. Joked. Shared something sacred with him.
Her dreams.
Sebastian’s jaw tightened as he watched the firelight flicker over the curve of her cheek.
No one had ever asked him about dreams before.
People didn’t ask things of Sebastian unless they wanted a problem solved, a decision made, or a door quietly shut.
With the exception of Thomas. Otherwise, he was the man who arranged, who ensured, who fixed.
Not the man anyone looked at and wondered, what does he want?
They assumed he already had it all.
And yet, Maddie had asked. Not in passing. Not to be polite. But like she wanted to know.
And when she’d told him her dream? A quiet life, a place of her own, a space filled with love… he’d felt something shift in his chest. Something subtle. Dangerous. Irrevocable.
Because he wanted to be part of that dream.
Not in theory. Not as a passing flirtation or a snowstorm memory. But truly.
It terrified him.
It excited him.
And there it was. The truth, stark and sudden, like a gust of wind, or an avalanche, that stole the breath from his lungs.
He wanted a place in her world. Not as a footnote, not as a passing fancy whispered about behind fans and closed doors, but as something solid. Present. Lasting.
That terrified him.
Because Sebastian had never believed himself capable of that kind of role.
His life had always been defined by function, by duty and the expectation that he would be the one to carry burdens without complaint.
The capable one. He had never resented it.
Much. It had been easier, in many ways, to escape behind duty. To avoid being noticed all that much.
Until Maddie saw him.
Not just the polished man or the titled man. She saw the parts of him he kept tucked beneath his spine, the yearning, the loneliness, the hunger to be… wanted. Not needed. Wanted.
That kind of exposure should have made him retreat.
But instead, here he was, sitting beside a woman who had very nearly died in his arms, who had laughed with him not an hour later, who spoke of dreams like they were visible things, and he wanted to reach out and wrap himself in every single one of hers.
He wanted to be the one she leaned on. The one she let into her greenhouse. The one she let make the tea while she concocted strange potions that filled the house with the scent of vinegar and fish and whatever else made her nose crinkle.
He wanted a life with her.
And that want ran so deep it scared him.
What if this was just a dream? What if she woke tomorrow and he had no place in her life? But she had leaned on him. She had rested on him. And that, more than anything, felt like truth.
He glanced over at her again. And in that moment, Sebastian realized…
He didn’t want to go back to the life he’d had before Maddie.
And if she’d let him, he’d never leave her side again.
He turned slightly, watching her with the kind of scrutiny that only came when a man knew he stood on the edge of something that could change everything. She was hugging her knees still, her profile soft, lost in thought.
He found himself speaking before he had time to think better of it. “You’re not cold anywhere anymore? All warm?”
Her eyes flicked to his, surprise blooming across her features, chased quickly by a smile. “Mostly,” she said. “My toes still have questions.”
Sebastian exhaled a low laugh. “Stubborn things, toes. Not easily convinced.”
“I think they’re holding out for better company,” she said, wiggling them toward the fire. “Or perhaps an apology.”
He arched a brow. “An apology?”
“For subjecting them to an avalanche and a snow-laden trek, naturally.”
“Then allow me to speak directly to the aggrieved parties.” He shifted closer, gaze fixed pointedly on her feet. “To Maddie’s toes: I deeply regret the aforementioned trauma and promise to make amends in the form of warmth, comfort, and if necessary… hot cider.”
She laughed again, a soft sound that made a home in his chest.
“Is this how you handle all crises?” she asked, tilting her head. “Charm and negotiation?”
“You are so silly.”
“Happy to oblige.”
“You know,” she said, voice quieter now, “I meant what I said earlier.”
“About the sleigh?” he teased.
“About not changing this moment,” she replied, her gaze steady. “I’ve spent so long avoiding anything that might ruffle feathers or invite whispers. I’ve been the good daughter, the proper lady, the quiet observer. And now, here, I feel like I can just be.”
Sebastian’s chest tightened. “You can.”
She looked away then, into the fire, and he let her. Some things were easier said when you didn’t have to look the other person in the eye.
“I think,” she said after a long pause, “that’s what I’ve wanted all along. Not grand passion. Not fairy tale ballrooms. Just… someone to sit beside. Someone who listens. Someone who stays no matter what.”
Sebastian couldn’t speak for a moment. Not because he didn’t know what to say, but because what he wanted to say felt too raw. Too revealing.
But he forced it out anyway.
“I’ll stay.”
She turned, startled.
“No matter what,” he reaffirmed. “I know you weren’t asking for promises. And I know this,” he gestured around the lodge, the snow, the flickering fire, “this feels like something outside of time. But if you want someone who stays… Maddie, I would.”
Silence. But not empty. Never empty with her.
Then she whispered, “Even when I’m difficult?”
He let out a breath of laughter. “Especially when you’re difficult.”
“Even when I make potions that smell like vinegar and smelly fish?”
“I’ll breathe them in like perfume.”
And then she shifted, slowly, carefully, until her head rested lightly against his shoulder.
Sebastian didn’t move. Didn’t dare. He only breathed her in and let her settle into the crook of his body like she belonged there.
They sat like that for a long time, the fire crackling and the snow pressing close against the windows. Time didn’t move. Not in the normal way. It moved almost in the way that dreams do.
Eventually, she whispered, “You’re very good at this.”
“At what?”
“Making me feel safe.”
He closed his eyes briefly. “I’ve never wanted to be good at anything more.”
A pause.
Then, very softly, “Are your toes still being stubborn?”
She shifted, just enough for her cheek to brush against his shirt. “Yes.”
He turned his head, kissed the top of hers. “So stubborn.”
He knew they would leave this place eventually. That someone would come or the snow would clear, and reality would reclaim them both.
But for now, she was in his arms. And that was enough.
He didn’t need dreams anymore.
He had Maddie.