The castle halls echoed with footsteps and the soft rustle of linen. Carmine moved quietly, arms full of folded sheets, her braid tucked neatly under her cap. The engagement was days away, and preparations had turned the manor into a hive of motion.
She entered Lady Elaine's chamber with practiced ease. The curtains were still drawn, the air perfumed with lavender and entitlement.
Elaine lay sprawled across the bed, one arm flung over her head, the silk of her nightgown slipping down her shoulder. Carmine paused, eyes catching on the curve of exposed skin and a huge breast — a moment too long, a thought too quiet.
She stepped forward, gently adjusting the fabric, her fingers brushing warmth.
"Lady Elaine," she said softly, "it's morning."
Elaine stirred, groaning. "Already?"
Carmine nodded, moving to the wardrobe. She laid out the boots — polished, pristine — and tied the laces in her usual way: bow ties, not full cross. It was her quiet rebellion. Her signature.
At Marco's house, the mood was lighter.
Livia hummed as she stitched, the Everhart order spread across the table. Silk, lace, and gold thread — more than she'd touched in years. Marco watched her from the doorway, a smile tugging at his lips.
"You'll be famous," he teased.
She laughed. "I'll be paid. That's enough."
Marco stepped into the sunlight, the weight of Wahlberg's world loosening from his shoulders. He didn't need to go back. Not now.
The inn was quiet when he arrived. The scent of fresh bread lingered — and something else.
A black coat lay draped over the back of a chair. On the table beside it, a single dandelion rested, its stem still fresh. Marco leaned closer. The fragrance was unmistakable.
He turned as the door opened.
"Cole," he said, surprised.
Colden smiled, a little shy. "Room seven, if it's still available."
Marco handed him the key, fingers brushing briefly.
Colden hesitated. "Would you… mind showing me around town? I'm still learning my way."
Marco tilted his head. "Now?"
"If you're free," Colden said, trying to sound casual.
Marco nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll grab my coat."
At Blair Castle, Carmine lay on her narrow bed, eyes tracing the ceiling beams. The morning had been strange — Elaine's sleep, her breast, the quiet moment that lingered too long.
Carmine reached for the blanket, pulling it close, her thoughts drifting to things she couldn't name. Her hand moved slowly, not out of desire, but out of need — for comfort, for release, for something that felt like hers. She rolled down her skirt and swiftly used her fingers as pleasure
Outside, the wind stirred the trees. Inside, silence held her gently.