“Stay,”I said quietly.
Harper looked at me without speaking, a question in her eyes.
“Not because my family finds you useful. Not because the psalter remains unpredictable. Stay because you choose this place.” My voice broke. “Choose me.”
Something vulnerable flickered briefly across her expression so quickly I almost missed it.
“Geoffrey—”
“Plight your troth to me. I have love you since the moment I laid eyes on you.”
There. Spoken plainly at last. The words settled between us with startling certainty. I had negotiated military disputes with less clarity.
Harper stared at me. “That,” she said carefully, “may be the most Geoffrey de Warenne proposal imaginable.”
My thumb moved unconsciously against the inside of her wrist.
“Was it terrible?”
Her mouth curved as she shook her head. “Yes,” she whispered.
The word struck me harder than expected.
“Yes as in?—”
“Yes as inyes.” Her voice steadied slightly. “Yes as in chosen deliberately. I love you Geoffrey de Warenne.”
Chosen.Something in my chest gave way quietly at that word.Deliberately.
Harper lifted one hand slowly against my chest, her fingers curling lightly into the wool of my tunic.
I looked down at her for one moment and understood with sudden terrifying clarity that restraint had failed long ago. The kiss happened because neither of us moved away. Because her hand remained against my chest. Because she tilted her face upward slightly and I realized I knew the exact expression she wore immediately before saying something brave.
Because I had wanted her for longer than I had allowed myself to admit. I kissed her carefully at first. Reverently. Her breath caught softly against my mouth, and the sound was like a blade sliding cleanly between my ribs.
Merde.
Harper’s fingers tightened against my chest as though steadying herself. My free hand rose instinctively to her waist, drawing her closer with slow deliberate pressure until the space between us disappeared entirely.
The world narrowed sharply to the rushes beneath my boots. The tapestries on the walls. Harper warm against me, lips softer than the finest silk.
Nothing else remained.
She kissed me back with a softness that undid me far more thoroughly than passion could have managed. I deepened the kiss before I could stop myself. Carefully controlled restraint shattered all at once into something deeper. Hungrier.Discipline collapsing beneath the simple unbearable reality of touching her.
Harper made a small startled sound against my mouth that nearly finished whatever remained of my self-control.
I pulled back first. Not far. Just enough to breathe.
Harper looked equally ruined by the experience, which I found delightfully encouraging.
I rested my forehead lightly against hers.
“Chosen deliberately,” I repeated softly.
Harper smiled then, small and luminous and entirely my undoing.
And for the first time in my life, I found myself profoundly grateful that strategy had finally failed me.