Chapter 20 #2
Riley gave an enthusiastic bark, bounding ahead, and Corbyn turned at the sound. His gaze found hers almost immediately, and then something flickered across his features. She thought it might be surprise or relief, but then there was something warmer before he schooled his expression.
“Morning,” he called as she approached, his voice carrying in the crisp air.
“Good morning,” Sadie replied, suddenly feeling strangely shy, like she was invading some sort of morning ritual. “I hope I’m not intruding.”
“Not at all,” Corbyn said, his tone gentler than she was accustomed to hearing. “How are you feeling?”
“Better,” she answered, standing beside him at the water’s edge. “Thanks to you.”
He shrugged, and she suspected he was trying to appear casual as he replied, “All I did was fetch some pills and darken a room. Hardly heroic.”
“It was more than that,” Sadie said quietly. “You could have just called me a car back to the inn. Instead, you…” She trailed off, uncertain how to articulate what his care had meant to her.
“Anyone would have done the same,” Corbyn replied, though they both knew that wasn’t true.
A comfortable silence settled between them as they gazed out over the pond. The surface rippled gently where Riley had ventured a paw into the shallows, breaking the ice and sending concentric circles spreading outward.
“Still, thank you for yesterday,” Sadie said. “And for getting my things from the inn.”
Corbyn kept his gaze on the water, his voice rough when he answered, “Seemed the practical thing to do.”
“It was still thoughtful.”
He glanced at her then, something unreadable flickering in his eyes. “Yesterday was…” he hesitated, seemingly struggling to find the right words. “I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
The simple statement contained more genuine concern than Sadie had heard from him before. It still surprised her how much Corbyn had changed since their first contentious meeting. He had gone from the prickly, dismissive author to someone who noticed when she was in pain and cared enough to help.
“You know, I realized this morning that I’ve been handling things alone for so long that I’d forgotten what it’s like to have someone there when I needed them.” She offered a small smile and added, “So thank you. For being there.”
Something in Corbyn’s expression softened further.
The way he looked at her, like she was someone who actually mattered to him, had warmth running through her body, settling low in her stomach.
Tucking a loose strand of still-damp hair that had escaped her ponytail behind her ear, she turned her gaze back to the pond, needing to break the spell.
Riley chose that moment to return to them, shaking water from his coat in a spray of droplets. The interruption lightened the mood, shifting them away from emotional territory, and Sadie’s laugh rang out over the pond.
“Miscreant,” Corbyn muttered, brushing water from his coat. “He knows perfectly well he’s not supposed to get wet in this weather.”
“He was just testing the ice for structural integrity,” Sadie suggested with a smirk. “It’s actually very scientific of him.”
Corbyn’s lips twitched in that almost smile she was coming to recognize. “Are engineers known for licking their testing equipment? Because that’s his primary methodology.”
“He’s pioneering new techniques,” she retorted with mock offense. “He’s very innovative, our Riley.”
“Our Riley,” Corbyn repeated, something warming in his gaze. “He’s certainly rather taken with you.”
“The feeling’s mutual,” Sadie said, watching as the dog explored the shoreline.
She moved along the edge of the pond, and Corbyn fell into step beside her. Their silence was broken only by the sound of their footsteps and Riley’s occasional snuffling when he caught an exciting scent.
“How did the writing go yesterday after I fell asleep?” she asked, keeping the conversation in safer territory. “Any breakthroughs?”
“Actually, yes,” Corbyn replied. “I think I’ve found a way to tie in Shaw’s relationship with his sister that gives the confrontation more emotional weight.”
As Corbyn explained his narrative solution, Sadie was drawn into the creative discussion. There was an ease to their back and forth now that she had truly come to enjoy. It was refreshing to feel like he spoke to her as an equal, rather than an adversary.
They continued walking as Riley darted ahead to investigate something in the underbrush. The sound of the ground crunching under his paws grew softer as he wandered away from them.
“Sisters have this way of seeing through you,” Corbyn remarked as they walked. “In fiction and in reality. My sister Ellie could always tell when I was hiding something, even as a child.”
“Brothers, too,” Sadie commented with a fond smile, seizing the opening. “What’s your sister like?”
Corbyn’s expression lightened with genuine affection, and he said, “Ellie’s a force of nature. Brilliant doctor, terrible patient. Never stops moving, talking, pushing.” He shook his head, but his tone was fond. “She’d like you.”
“Oh? Why’s that?”
“You’re both bloody stubborn,” he replied with a hint of humor. “And neither of you takes any of my nonsense.”
“High praise indeed,” Sadie laughed.
“She’s been asking to meet you,” Corbyn continued, his tone deceptively calm, but the clenching of his left hand suggested otherwise. “Quite insistent about it, actually.”
“Oh? Why the interest?”
“Apparently, anyone who can get me to leave the estate and use modern technology warrants investigation,” he said dryly.
“I bet she has more stories about you than Edie,” Sadie laughed, watching his lips twitch as he tried to not appear amused.
“That’s what concerns me,” he replied, though his eyes held a spark that caused her heart to pound in her chest. “She wants me to bring you to London for dinner, perhaps.” He kept his gaze fixed ahead as if the invitation were nothing significant and added, “After the manuscript deadline, of course.”
The invitation hung between them, casual on the surface but laden with implications.
This wasn’t work-related but personal and a huge step across the carefully maintained line they’d drawn between them.
It also meant he would have to leave the safety of the manor and Great Missenden to travel to London.
“I’d like that,” Sadie said softly as they stopped once more along the pond, surprising herself with how much she meant it.
She bit her lip, the mention of London taking her back fifteen years, and before she could talk herself out of it, she continued, “I haven’t really visited London since I was a teenager.
” She observed his face as she continued, “I was seventeen, and on a school trip during winter break.” She paused deliberately, waiting for any sort of recognition, and when there was none, she added, “We spent New Year’s Eve there. ”
Something flickered in Corbyn’s expression – so brief she might have imagined it if she hadn’t been watching for it.
“New Year’s Eve,” he repeated, his voice suddenly rougher. He cleared his throat. “When was this?”
A strange tension coiled between them, and she felt her stomach clench with nervous energy when she answered, “2009.” She tilted her head slightly, studying him. “Why do you ask?”
Corbyn had gone very still, his eyes searching her face in a way that made her breath catch. For a moment, just for a heartbeat, she thought she saw recognition there, confirmation of her own half-formed suspicions.
“Nothing,” he said finally, though everything in his manner suggested it was something. “The city changes quickly, that’s all.”
But his eyes lingered on hers a moment too long, and Sadie felt sure there was more that he wasn’t saying. Riley came bounding back before Sadie could press him, a stick clutched triumphantly in his jaws.
Sadie took the soggy stick, scratching Riley’s ears before hurling it toward a distant tree. The Irish wolfhound took off like a shot, his tan form a blur against the frost-covered ground.
“Show-off,” Corbyn muttered with a smirk. “He never runs that fast for me.”
“Clearly, I’m the favorite,” Sadie replied with a grin. “Can’t blame him for having good taste.”
They started walking once more, Riley returning with the stick several times, his enthusiasm never waning. They’d nearly circled the pond when a gust of wind cut through the trees. Sadie shivered, her coat doing little to combat the chill.
“Cold?” Corbyn asked, his brow furrowing with concern.
“A little,” she admitted, blushing slightly as she realized she had brought this upon herself. “And my hair’s still damp.”
Corbyn shook his head, a mixture of exasperation and amusement.
One corner of his mouth tugged into a smirk, and he reached into his pocket.
He produced a soft gray knitted hat, his hand catching her elbow to stop her in her tracks.
Even through the layers of clothing, that awareness she felt whenever he touched her was still there.
“Here,” he grumbled good-naturedly. “You Americans have no sense of self-preservation.”
Before Sadie could protest, he pulled the beanie over her head, his fingers carefully arranging it to cover her ears with surprising dexterity.
The gesture was unexpectedly tender, and she found herself studying his face, taking in the way his expression softened as his fingers brushed against her skin.
“Thank you,” Sadie murmured, intensely aware of his proximity.
Corbyn’s hands lingered, his gaze dropping briefly to her lips.
For a moment, Sadie thought he might lean in and close the small distance between them.
She held her breath, and it felt like her heartbeat was so loud she was sure he would hear it.
Everything seemed to slow, and Sadie swayed slightly forward, drawn by some invisible thread.
Just as Corbyn leaned in, Riley barreled between them, shaking pond water from his fur and drenching them both. Canine obliviousness had shattered the moment completely.
“Riley!” Corbyn sputtered, jumping back as droplets splattered his coat.
Sadie couldn’t help laughing, the sound a mix of relief and disappointment. “Perfect timing,” she quipped, wiping water from her cheek.
Corbyn shot the Irish wolfhound a look as he muttered, “You’re sleeping in the garden shed tonight.” Though she was quite sure it wasn’t really a threat.
Completely unaware of the moment he’d interrupted, Riley gazed up at them both joyfully, tail wagging in enthusiastic circles.
“We should probably get back,” Corbyn said, clearing his throat again, though his eyes still held a warmth that made Sadie’s stomach flutter. “Edie will have my head if you catch a chill.”
The moment had slipped away, but as they walked back toward the manor house, Riley trotting between them, Sadie couldn’t help wondering what might have happened if Riley hadn’t interrupted.
The thought should have alarmed her; the complications it could bring were undeniable.
Somehow, though, it didn’t, and she couldn’t find it in herself to stop those musings.