Ryan looked at Eloise.
Her mouth slightly open at his words, she gazed at him with an expression of utter disbelief.
Even if one wished to be generous, one could not say Eloise looked her best now.
Upon returning to the house, though she had managed to dry herself quickly, she had only washed off the largest clumps of mud.
In contrast to her usual neat appearance, her hair was not yet completely dry and stuck out in unruly curls in all directions. Her hastily donned clothes were wrinkled and creased.
Eloise looked so disheveled that anyone who saw her might think she had just returned from a day of hard labor.
And yet, in Ryan's eyes, she looked more beautiful than ever.
He recalled how he had seen her earlier that day.
In the pouring rain, she had been trying alone to shift the stone blocking the barn entrance. The moment he'd spotted her—along with relief at finding her—he'd been overcome with fury.
The bridge and dyke could collapse at any moment. Knowing she could be swept away if that happened, she had entered the village anyway to search for a child.
And not even her own.
This commanded respect. Risking oneself for others was the noblest thing a person could do.
This was what he had always been taught. He had lived proud that he could swear allegiance to his homeland and people—and give his life for them.
He had always respected comrades who threw themselves into danger. But why did he feel as though the world were collapsing when he saw Eloise—who, without thinking of herself, rushed toward peril?
Ryan looked at her. She was still moving her lips, unable to utter a word.
She had been baffling him from the very first time they met.
He had even resolved that during his entire stay here, he would certainly not grow close to her.
Wasn't that why—by returning the drawing she'd left at dinner—he had deliberately put her in an awkward position?
But when, in Mr. Severton's absence, she had come to Blissbury, his initial resolve had melted away like spring snow and vanished without trace.
Whenever her laughter drifted from the stairs, Ryan would ascend like a man possessed, searching for her.
And every time—seeing how she chatted cheerfully with others and not with him—he, out of incomprehensible resentment and irritation, would approach her and make barbed remarks.
And each time, Eloise would frown and glare at him.
But Ryan liked that expression.
After all, in that moment, she was focused only on him.
And now, when Eloise looked at him as if she didn't understand what she'd just heard...
Ryan, realizing he hadn't yet seen many of her expressions, felt that this one was now the most beloved of all he had ever witnessed.
Looking at her bedraggled and exhausted appearance, Ryan's heart began beating faster.
He remembered the words Eloise had spoken to him moments before.
*That today he looked especially handsome.*
The instant he'd heard them, his heart had begun pounding wildly.
Ordinary words. In the capital's high society, he'd heard them ad nauseam at every reception.
And in most cases, they had been sincere.
Back then, they had evoked no feelings in him. But now, from such simple, almost playful praise, his heart raced.
And even stronger.
Since both were silent, the only sounds in the house were the rain and the crackling of logs in the fireplace.
Ryan slowly raised his hand and carefully brushed away her damp hair, stuck to her forehead.
He ran his fingers through it several times. Even though there was nothing left to remove, his fingers continued gliding gently over her brow.
Then his hand slowly descended. Ryan—with incredible care, as if holding the most fragile and precious thing in the world—touched Eloise's cheek.
Feeling the warmth of her skin, Ryan felt relief again.
Today, he had nearly lost her forever.
If he had been even slightly delayed, the collapsed dyke would have mercilessly swept away both her and Andrew.
Belatedly realizing what might have happened, Ryan's hand trembled.
At that moment, Eloise raised her hand and covered his, which rested on her cheek.
*Ah.*
Her gesture made Ryan realize what he was doing.
Eloise was still reeling from the ordeal.
And he—remaining alone with her in a secluded place—had suddenly reached out to touch her.
"I'm sorry, I—"
The thought that he could momentarily have become a source of fear for her filled him with deep regret. Ryan was about to withdraw his hand quickly.
"I'm not afraid."
Eloise said this without releasing his hand.
At these words, the same expression appeared on Ryan's face as had graced Eloise's moments before.
An expression that said he couldn't believe what he'd heard—and didn't know what to say.
The flames from the fireplace flickered across their faces, casting strange shadows.
*"I'm not afraid."*
Eloise wasn't lying. There wasn't a trace of fear in her eyes as she looked at him.
Eloise trusted him.
It was a firm conviction that nothing he did would harm her.
This absolute trust filled Ryan with inexplicable warmth.
He had seen a similar look before.
When she had defended Ryan Wilgrave.
So, strangely, Ryan had envied himself.
He envied Ryan Wilgrave—who enjoyed the boundless trust of this woman from a distant village—something Ryan Thornton could never achieve.
And now Eloise looked at him with that same expression.
Their contact transmitted her warmth.
The warmth he had felt on the night of the celebration—when they, carried away by the dance, had whirled through the empty corridor.
The first joy. The first exhilaration. All of it connected to this warmth.
Having declared he would leave in autumn, Ryan had been prepared never to touch that warmth again.
He had thought everything was fine—that this excitement was merely a fleeting, capricious emotion.
But the warmth passing from hand to hand ignited a flame in his chest.
Ryan understood.
**He was mired in this painful and awkward love.**
---
Eloise closed her eyes as Ryan's face moved slowly closer to hers.
Their breaths mingled. Ryan hesitated for a heartbeat.
*He did say he was leaving. He decided to return to the capital and live as though he'd never remembered Blissbury. He did decide that...*
His lips slowly touched Eloise's lips.
In that moment, he could no longer think of anything.
Her lips were the softest and warmest he had ever felt. Now there was only one thought left in his mind.
*Just a little more.*
He wanted to drink even more of this warmth—given to him without fear.
Their lips touched, mingling their breaths. The soft sound of their lips entwining dissolved into the sound of rain, along with their heated breath.
The kiss was slow and deep. Though it was the first time for both and they were awkward, they soon found the most comfortable way to explore each other.
*Ah...*
Fingers slipped between the partner's fingers and intertwined tightly.
In the rain-drenched world, they continued kissing.
As if in this world—where only the two of them remained—there was nothing else to do.
---
"Mm..."
When Eloise woke, the first thing she noticed was the light flooding everything around her. Even with her eyes closed, the world seemed red from the brilliant glow. She instinctively pulled the blanket over her face.
And then, a moment later—
*Light?*
Startled by the realization, she sat up abruptly and opened her eyes.
Then she immediately went to the window. Outside the glass, an incredibly blue sky was visible—without a single cloud.
**The rain had stopped.**