historical romance

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When I started Monroe + Aiden, I wasn’t sure where it would take me, only that I wanted to tell their story.

Finishing it feels a little surreal.

To those who followed along, read each chapter, or even stopped by for a moment, thank you. Truly.

This story means more to me than I can quite put into words.

And while Monroe + Aiden’s journey has come to an end… this is only the beginning here. 🤎

Love, The Feral Bookster

What’s Coming…

My writer brain isn’t finished just yet… there are other stories waiting to be told.

Stick around to watch Graham + Bambi’s story unfold.

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Stay awhile! You won’t want to miss what’s next!

M+A Chapter 18

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 He did not move. Not toward me. Not away.

And so I crossed the distance. One step. Then another until there was no space left between us.

Slowly, he lifted his hand to my cheek, fingers barely grazing my skin. His breath left him in a shaky exhale, as though he only just allowed himself to believe I was real.

His thumb trembled as he traced the curve of my lips.

“Monroe…” my name stumbled from his lips. “You shouldn’t have come.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment I saw it—the war inside him. Duty. Loyalty. Want.

“I couldn’t stay away,” I told him.

“Alexander is a great man,” he said hoarsely. “He can provide for you everything that I cannot.”

I covered his hand still resting gently on my cheek with my own. “All I want, Aiden… is you.”

His breath caught.

His eyes searched mine as if trying to find something he did not dare believe.  

For weeks I had tried to fulfill my duty as Princess, as future queen, but I knew that life was no longer mine.

My heart had long since made its choice, and I could not deny it what longed for.

Him. Aiden.

I let him see it.

His hand slid from my cheek to the back of my neck, not pulling me closer, just holding me there. Like I was his anchor as much as he was mine.

He pressed his forehead to mine. “My heart is yours, Monroe. Always.”

My fingers fisted in his tunic.

“And mine has only ever been yours.”

I rose onto my toes.

Aiden stilled.

For one suspended heartbeat, the world held its breath with us.

Then I kissed him.

It was not tentative. It was not careful. It was every stolen glance, every restrained touch, every word left unsaid set free all at once.

Whatever restraint he had left shattered.

Aiden’s mouth claimed mine. His hand tightened at the back of my neck as the other slid to my waist. He pulled me flush against him, and my hands threaded into his hair.

He nipped at my lower lip, drawing a soft sound from me, and a low approving grumble reverberated in his chest.

Aiden’s hands moved over my back, my shoulders, my arms, as if he were mapping out my body to commit the feel, the shape of me, to memory.

I clung to him, my fingertips digging into his biceps, only breaking away long enough to steal a breath.

Beneath the starlit sky, it was only Aiden and me—hands twisting in hair, fingers clutching fabric, breathless ravenous kisses.

Aiden broke our kiss with a groan, as if stopping was agony.

Our uneven breaths mingled in the space between us.

“Monroe,” he murmured, sending goosebumps across my skin.

He rested his head atop mine, his fingers still pressing into my skin.

“I can’t lose you,” he said, the words rough and uneven.

I looked up at him, my hand cupping his cheek. “You won’t. I choose you, Aiden.”

His lips curved before he leaned in and brushed a soft, delicate kiss to my mouth.

He took my hands and held them between us. “I have to tell Alexander,” he said, his voice steadying.

“We will tell him,” I said. “Together.”

Aiden and I paused at the edge of the forest path, looking up at the dark silhouette of Castle Bedford rising in the distance.

He squeezed my hand once before releasing it, and together we stepped onto the stone path.

We walked side by side, close enough that the heat of him brushed my skin, yet careful not to touch.

The night air was cool, but I barely felt it. Every nerve in my body thrummed, alive with the knowledge that everything was about to change.

We passed guards, their gazes following Aiden and me, but none made a move to stop us. No one suspected the fracture we were about to carve into the foundations of Bedford.

Aiden halted just before a long corridor, his fingers closing gently around my wrist. “Are you certain?” he asked quietly. “If he strips me of everything—”

I held his gaze, letting him see the unwavering truth in mine. “Then we shall have nothing. Together.”

He held my gaze a moment longer. Then he nodded once, slow and decisive, and he laced his fingers through mine.

At the end of the corridor, the parlor doors stood slightly ajar, a shaft of firelight spilling across the stone floor.

We shared one final look, a silent confirmation.

Aiden brought his hand up to the door, but before his knuckles even grazed the wood, Alexander’s voice drifted from within.

“Enter.”

Aiden pushed the door open.

A fire crackled softly in the hearth, casting warm light across the parlor. Prince Alexander sat in a high-backed chair, one ankle crossed over his knee, a glass untouched at his side.

Firelight traced the sharp line of his profile as his gaze lifted slowly from the flames, settling first on our joined hands.

“I wondered when this moment would come,” he said.

His attention returned to the hearth, the quiet snap of burning logs stretching between us.

“I admit,” he continued evenly, “I had hoped you would choose me.”

He rose then, unhurried, setting the glass aside without looking at it.

When his gaze met mine fully, there was no accusation there, only clarity.

“But I see now, you would only have resented me.”

Something in my chest tightened. Not with fear, but with understanding. For the first time, I saw him not as a prince, not as an obligation, but simply as a man who had misjudged love… and knew it.

“I tried,” I said softly.

“The fault is mine, Your Majesty,” Aiden said.

Alexander lifted a hand, not sharply, not in reprimand, but in quiet refusal. “No,” he said. “No, the truth is no one’s fault.”

His gaze moved between us, not as a ruler assessing subjects, but as someone finally seeing what had always been there. “You love each other.”

We did not deny it.

A faint curve touched his mouth. It was not quite a smile, but something like acceptance.

“You are released from this arrangement,” he said, his attention returning to me. “I will dissolve the engagement. The rest, I will manage.”

Silence settled in the parlor again, only broken up by the soft crackle of the fire.

Then, softer, Alexander said, “Go.”

I released Aiden’s hand and stepped forward. “Thank you,” I said.

Behind me, Aiden bowed. “Your Majesty.”

Alexander inclined his head once, then turned away, his hands clasping behind his back.

Aiden and I left the parlor, hand in hand, moving silently through the corridor.

Perhaps we did not trust the moment to hold. Or perhaps we could not yet believe we had walked away without consequence.

When the carriage waiting in the drive came into view, something inside me began to ease.

There were no gloved attendants, no line of guards standing at attention as there had been the day I arrived. No banners. No procession.

There was only Aiden and me in the hush of dawn, stepping into something entirely our own.

I did not allow myself to look back at first. But as the carriage wheels began their steady rhythm over stone, carrying us through the outer gates, I could not help myself.

I turned.

High above, framed by stone and morning light, Prince Alexander stood at the balcony.

He did not wave. He did not call out. He simply watched.

Our eyes met across the distance. He inclined his head. Not as a prince to a subject. Not as a man to a possession. But as an equal.

The gates closed, and Bedford receded behind us.

Aiden took my hand in his, and brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss to my knuckles.

I leaned my head against his shoulder and closed my eyes.

I did not know where the road ahead would take us, but as Aiden’s thumb traced slow, lazy circles over my hand, I knew one thing with absolute certainty—wherever it led, we would meet it together.

***

Pinpricks of sunlight filtered through the broad canopy overhead, dappling the meadow below.

I wandered along the bank where wildflowers grew in abundance, their petals brushing my ankles.

Aiden was stretched out comfortably on the blanket, boots discarded, one arm propped behind his head. He watched me with an expression so open, so unguarded, it made my chest tighten. As though I were not merely his wife, but a miracle he still could not quite believe was his.

I returned to the blanket and settled beside him. He gathered me close, his strong arms wrapping around me without hesitation, as though some part of him still feared I might vanish if he did not hold me there.

His fingers curled beneath my chin, tilting my head back until our gazes met. “Are you happy?” he asked.

“Better than happy,” I said, smiling. “With you, I am whole.”

“Always so poetic, Princess.”

I smiled wider, brushing my fingers over his jaw. “I am no princess.”

“You are whatever you chose to be, and you have always been more than a crown.”

He kissed me slowly, reverently, like he had all the time in the world.

“I love you, Monroe.”

“I love you, Aiden.”

He kissed me again, then tucked me close against him and held me there.

I gazed across the meadow at our cottage tucked amongst the trees. The light struck it just so, and I thought of the painting in Bedford’s gallery.

I had once believed it beautiful in theory. I had not known it could be lived.

Here, there were no nooses disguised as duty. No crowns masquerading as destiny. Only the steady rush of water, wildflowers at my feet, and the man who had chosen me as fiercely as I had chosen him.

 

The End

M+A Chapter 17

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A few days later, Alexander and I met in the courtyard to review the decorations for the final time.

It was alive with activity. Servants strategically wrapped vibrant floral garland around banisters and balconies, their bright colors standing out starkly against the gray stone. Others had arranged additional blooms along the walkways and adjusted their petals and ribbons with meticulous care. The lush green lawn was perfectly trimmed, statues were meticulously polished, and the fountains were cleaned and sparkled in the sunlight.

Every detail was arranged to Alexander’s exacting standards.

“Marvelous, isn’t it?” he asked, his gaze sweeping over the courtyard. “It promises to be the event of the season.”

“Indeed,” I replied, smiling faintly.

My attention drifted across the courtyard, over the servants and the gardeners, and fluttering ribbons until it reached the guards stationed along the perimeter. Out of habit, I searched for the familiar build I could recognize without hesitation.

But he was not there.

Before I could dwell on the tightness in my chest, Alexander took my arm and steered us away.

As we continued across the grounds, we were stopped by nobles, offering compliments and extending congratulations.

I smiled warmly, inclined my head at the proper moments, and accepted their well-wishes, my voice carrying calm assurance.

No one would have guessed the effort it required to hold myself together.

We rounded the garden and a quiet awareness pressed at the back of my thoughts. It was the unmistakable sensation of being watched.

I turned, my gaze sweeping past garlands and polished stone, over the rigid line of guards. At the far edge of the courtyard, a figure stood concealed in shadow beneath an archway. Though I could not make out his face, something in me wanted to believe it was him.

 I wondered if he would notice the tightness in my shoulders. The way my smile held a second too long. The absence of light where it should have been.

A servant passed between us, carrying a cascade of ivory roses.

When I looked again, the shadow beneath the archway was empty.

I exhaled slowly.

Foolish Monroe.

“Princess.” Alexander’s voice cut gently through my thoughts. “Are you with me?”

My smile widened. “Of course,” I replied. “Just admiring the decorations.”

He inclined his head toward a waiting cluster of nobles, his hand settling at the small of my back. “We mustn’t keep them.”

By the time we left the nobles and Sir William had arrived to escort me back to my chambers, every part of me ached. My cheeks throbbed from holding my smile in place. My spine had been kept so straight for so many hours it felt as though it might splinter if I allowed it to bend. Each breath pressed against the rigid boning of my corset, my ribs protesting beneath the silk and laces. Even my slippers felt heavier than they should, dragging against the stone as though I were wading through water.

“Thank you, Sir William,” I said once we’d reached my chambers.

“Good day, Your Highness.” He bowed and withdrew, retreating down the hall to his post.

The door eased shut behind him and I sagged against it, the strength draining from my limbs now that no one was there to witness it.

I had only taken a few steps into the sitting room when I stopped short.

A leather-bound book sat at the center of the low table.

I hadn’t seen that book in days. Not since I had left it behind in the solarium.

I took a few tentative steps forward, a quiet unease stirring in my chest as I tried to understand how it had found its way here after all this time.

A sliver of pale blue peeked out from between the pages.

My heart thundered against my ribs, my fingers trembling as I opened it.

A forget-me-not lay pressed inside.

All at once, my breath left me, and tears slipped free before I could stop them.

These have always been my favorite.

A wise choice.

The walls of the sitting room melted away.

I was standing in the garden again with sunlight on my skin, the scent of lilac and honeysuckle carried on a gentle breeze.

I was with him. With Aiden.

The forget-me-not trembled in my grasp, pressed against my chest as something new threaded through my limbs.

Not longing. Not ache.

Resolve.

I could not continue this way. I could not pretend any longer

I would not.

I was already moving before my mind caught up with what I was doing.

“Monroe?” Alice called after me, but her voice barely reached me.

The door shut behind me, and she became nothing more than a fading echo.

My feet urged me to run. To gather my skirts and fly down the corridor like a reckless girl in a storybook romance.

I did not.

Anyone who passed would see only a princess making her way through the castle halls. They would not see the way my pulse thundered. The way each step felt like stepping off the edge of something I could never return from.

I walked.

And I did not stop.

Behind me, Castle Bedford dissolved into shadow, its towering spires swallowed by the night as the forest path unfurled before me.

Only once the trees closed in around me did I let urgency carry me forward.

Near the end of the path, amber light flickered against the trees.

My pulse quickened, each breath drawing in shorter than the last.

I stepped into the clearing. It was empty.

A small fire burned at its center, the embers glowing low as though it had been left untended for some time.

My breath faltered.

He had been here. I had waited too long. I had lost him.

My fingers curled tightly around the forget-me-not, my heart splintering beneath the weight of his absence.

Then… a soft rustle of branches. The deliberate crunch of leaves underfoot.

I turned slowly, my pulse roaring in my ears. Every nerve in my body trembled with hope.

Aiden stood at the edge of the clearing, half-shadow, half-firelight, and utterly still.

“Monroe.”

Chapter Eighteen

M+A Chapter 16

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Hollow.

That was all I was capable of feeling. 

And yet, to look at me, none would have been the wiser. 

Not even Sir William, who had stood beside me for the last several days and noticed nothing at all. 

He was not unkind. He was attentive, efficient, ever-present at my side. But he did not notice when my steps slowed or when my smile wavered before I caught it. He never asked me about my books or if I cared to walk the gardens.

Being escorted by him felt like moving through the world unseen. Observed, perhaps, but never truly noticed. With him, I felt myself recede, little by little, until only the role remained.

And so I did what was required of me. 

I fulfilled my duties with flawless precision, attending fittings and meetings, reviewing guest lists and ceremonial details, standing still as jewels were held against my skin and gowns were pinned in place. I accepted courtesies, listened when spoken to. I smiled when expected, nodded at the appropriate moment. My posture was perfect. My composure unassailable. 

I wore the role as though it fit. As though the hollowness wasn’t spreading, widening into a chasm vast and vacant. 

Each day that passed brought me closer to the engagement celebration and farther from myself.

I hadn’t realized just how much Aiden had shaped my time here at Bedford, and just how much his presence had anchored me.

I had come to long for the glimpses of him in the corridor as Sir William escorted me to appointments, for the brief glances I’d sneak of him when he was stationed near Alexander in meetings, for catching sight of his familiar posture at the edge of the room.

But even those fleeting moments didn’t last. 

As the celebration grew nearer, the glimpses I once caught of Aiden grew fewer.

It had taken me two days to stop searching for him—in the corridors, the grounds, even the training yard. It had taken another two days for the realization to hold. And one more still, for me to accept it.

He was gone. 

He was not coming back. 

And he had taken a part of me with him.

Every smile, every polite remark, further chipped away at what little remained. 

Still, the world required me to keep moving.

“Her Highness Princess Monroe,” Sir William announced as I stepped into the great hall.

Alexander was waiting near the tall windows overlooking the forecourt where carriages were already beginning to arrive through Bedford’s gates. 

He turned away from the window.

“Appearances matter now more than ever, Princess,” Alexander said, adjusting his cuffs. “The kingdom will be watching closely.”

I inclined my head. “I will fulfill my responsibilities, Your Majesty.”

“I’m quite certain you will,” he said, offering me his arm.

I linked my arm through his and we strode through the double doors and out onto the palace steps.

Nobles approached one by one, offering bows and warm congratulations.

Alexander moved through the greetings with effortless confidence, his voice warm, his smile steady. 

I stood beside him, my body remembering its role, even as my heart refused to. 

A familiar figure stepped from his carriage and made his way toward Alexander and me with a self-important air.

I recognized Lord Dupont at once. He had visited Celermare when I was a child, often bringing my father rare volumes for my father’s library. 

He flicked his coattails back and bowed. “Your Majesty.”

Alexander inclined his head and smiled. “Lord Dupont. It is an honor to have you at Bedford. It’s been too long.”

“I would never dream to miss such an auspicious event,” he replied. 

I curtsied. “Lord Dupont,” I began politely. “It is—” 

Alexander’s hand settled at the small of my back, and my words died on my tongue. To anyone else, the gesture was affectionate. I knew it for what it was–a quiet instruction.

“Lord Dupont oversees trade negotiations along the eastern coast,” Alexander supplied smoothly, as though I had never spoken.

Lord Dupont smiled and continued speaking with Alexander, his attention never once shifting toward me. 

I stood beside them, still and silent. 

A familiar voice surfaced in my mind. 

Good princesses are seen, not heard.

Only this time, the voice was Alexander’s.

The next carriage rolled into the forecourt. I lifted my chin and fixed my smile into place, ready once more to play my part. 

Carriage after carriage arrived through the gates, and noble after noble offered their well wishes and polite courtesies. 

When the forecourt had emptied at last and the evening air had grown cool against my skin, Alexander extended his arm to me. 

“Shall we?” 

I nodded, taking his arm as we turned back toward the palace. 

We settled in a private sitting room for the evening. A fire flickered quietly in the hearth, it’s glow soft against the otherwise austere lines of the room. 

A servant brought us tea and other light refreshments and then swiftly departed. 

Alexander lifted his teacup, taking an unhurried sip before setting it aside. 

“You’ve handled this well. You’ll make an excellent queen, Monroe.”

My fingers closed more firmly around my cup, the porcelain warm against my skin. 

The sound of my name, spoken so easily, so confidently, sat foreign and strange in the air. 

It did not sound like reassurance. 

It felt like a claim.

Without thinking, my fingers lifted to my throat, rubbing absently at the pressure there, as though something invisible had drawn tight. 

I swallowed, then brought it to my lips, and took a sip, if only to give myself a moment to compose.

“You are most kind, Your Majesty,” I answered. “Thank you.”

“Kindness has nothing to do with it,” he said simply. “You are well suited for the life you are stepping into.” His gaze held mine. 

“I will serve you and all of Bedford faithfully.”

Alexanders lips curved faintly, the expression controlled. “Good.”

“It is getting late. I should retire,” I said, rising from the settee. “Goodnight, Your Majesty.”

He rose from his seat, smoothing his hands down the front of his coat. “Goodnight Princess.”

I left the parlor, the door closing behind me with a quiet finality that echoed far too loudly in my chest. 

As Sir William escorted me back to my chambers, I searched for him. 

As I rounded every corner and passed every hall, I expected to see the familiar knight with emerald green eyes. Yet every corridor and hall remained painfully empty.

The hollowness crested inside me. Tears burned behind my eyes, but I refused to let them fall.

When I stepped through my chamber doors, the realization struck sharp and unforgiving. The noose had never been removed…

It had only learned to disguise itself better. 

Chapter Seventeen

M+A Chapter 12

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I stood rooted to my spot on the balcony, staring at the door Aiden had left through, my pulse still hammering a relentless rhythm.

I softly traced the curve of my bottom lip, my mouth curving into a small smile.

He kissed me.

An incredulous laugh bubbled out of me and echoed across the stone. The sound startled even me. I quickly pressed a hand over my mouth, quieting myself.

I wavered on my feet, suddenly unsteady. My knees felt weak as I stumbled to the curved stone bench beside the balcony railing and sank onto it.

Aiden’s face flashed through my mind—the hint of desire in his eyes—and then his voice followed, low and husky, sending a shiver racing down my spine.

I could still feel him, as though his touches had branded themselves into my skin—the imprint of his fingers on my wrist, the warmth of his palms on my cheeks, the firm press of his lips against mine.

Aiden had kissed me.

I closed my eyes, clinging to the feeling while it still lingered.

Cool midnight air brushed against my skin. Slowly, the warmth of the moment began to fade, and the quiet of the balcony settled around me.

I rose from the bench, drawing my robe tighter around me before slipping quietly from the balcony and back toward my chambers.

The corridors felt darker now, the air thicker around me.

The walk felt endless, each step heavier than the one before.

Candlelight glimmered along the golden threads of a great tapestry.

My steps faltered.

The Bedford crest loomed before me. It sat at the heart of a golden crown, framed by glittering jewels.

A symbol of duty.

A symbol of honor.

Alexander.

A cold unease seeped into my bones.

I turned away and hurried back to my chambers.

My trembling fingers fumbled with the latch. When it finally gave way, I stumbled inside.

I slammed the door harder than necessary. The wood reverberated like my pounding heart.

I turned the lock and backed away from the door, as if it could keep the inevitable at bay.

Only it didn’t.

Guilt settled heavy in my stomach, sinking like a stone.

Foolish, Monroe.

But the familiar words rang hollow, offering no comfort. No matter how many times I repeated them, the guilt refused to ease.

I was betrothed to another man, our wedding barely a month away. It was not simply a union between two people, but a promise between two nations—one meant to secure the future of my kingdom.

These feelings I harbored were not only a betrayal of my own kingdom, but of Alexander as well.

I had not stopped Aiden.

Worse still, I had wanted it.

I dropped onto the edge of my bed and drew in deep, steadying breaths willing my mind and body to calm.

When my body finally began to loosen, I slipped under the covers and waited for sleep to come.

But every time I closed my eyes, Aiden appeared unbidden in my mind, followed by phantom impressions of him—his breath, his hands, the heat of him.

“Oh, God, Monroe.” I shook my head, forcing the thoughts away.

I rolled onto my back and stared at the high-vaulted ceiling, trying again to focus on my breathing.

That did not work either.

All I could think about was how irrevocably things had changed.

Aiden had kissed me. Not by accident. Not by impulse alone. He chose it.

And I had chosen him in return, surrendering myself to the moment.

This was not a passing spark—it was something deeper.

I squeezed my eyes shut, refusing to follow that thought any further.

But when sleep finally came, it carried the memory of Aiden with it.

Chapter Thirteen

M+A Chapter 11

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I retired to my sitting room for the evening and settled into the chair before the fireplace.

Alice returned a few moments later with a steaming cup of tea, handed it to me, and then tended the fire.

“Did you enjoy yourself today?” she asked. “I have yet to see Bedford Park, but I hear it’s wonderful.”

“Yes,” I said. “It’s lovely. You would like it very much.”

Alice smiled. “Well, I shall leave you to your evening. Good night, Monroe.”

“Goodnight, Alice.”

She gathered the tray and slipped quietly from the room.

The soft crackle of the fire filled the silence, and I was left alone with my thoughts.

I thought of the lawn trimmed to perfection. The gravel walkways raked smooth. Not a bloom out of place.

Alexander suited it. He was immaculate, composed. Every thread in order. He maintained himself as carefully as he maintained the park and his kingdom.

And yet my thoughts drifted. To moss-covered rocks. To wildflowers shifting in the breeze. To a quiet stream cutting through untouched earth. To Aiden standing there, unguarded.

A familiar warmth bloomed behind my ribs.

I caught myself imagining a life beyond duty and structure and composure. A life unmapped by others. And I was struck by how fiercely some hidden part of me wanted it.

I shook my head and set my teacup aside.

I was not meant to want such things. That was not the life I had been shaped for.

Duty first, I reminded myself.

I tried to rebuild the walls of expectation around me, but no matter how hard I tried, they felt too thin.

The room closed in. The air grew heavy in my lungs.

I needed air.

I pulled my robe from the back of the chair and shrugged it on.

I quietly turned the latch and stepped into the darkened hallway, the door whispering shut behind me.

The stone was cool against my bare feet as I moved silently down the corridors. Silver moonlight spilled through the narrow windows, lighting my way.

My footsteps barely echoed as I turned the first corner heading toward the balcony I knew lay ahead.

The double doors appeared just as a sound echoed behind me. My steps quickened instinctively.

I risked a glance behind me, catching the orange flicker of candlelight dancing along the wall just beyond the corner I’d come from.

Just as I turned back around, I collided with a solid wall of muscle.

I gasped and staggered backwards, but two strong hands caught my waist, steadying me.

“Princess?”

My eyes snapped upward, meeting bright green irises.

“Aiden?” I breathed.

Before I could fully register that Aiden’s hands were on my waist—and that my own fingers were clutching the strong lines of his arms—a sharp voice rang through the corridor.

Aiden’s head turned instantly toward the voice, his posture going rigid, his gaze sharpening.

Keeping one hand secured around my waist, he used the other to swing open the balcony door and drew me inside with him.

He quickly shut the door behind us and braced his back against the wall, holding me securely against his chest.

“Aiden…”

“Not yet, Princess,” he whispered. “Wait till they pass.”

I nodded and bit down on my bottom lip. Aiden’s gaze dipped there for just a second before snapping back to the door.

The orange candlelight grew brighter.

The footsteps grew louder.

They halted just outside the door.

Aiden’s grip tightened on my waist, his fingers bunching the fabric of my robe. My fingers dug into his skin in return.

For endless seconds we clung to one another, breaths held, eyes fixed on the door and the shadow behind them.

The latch jiggled the slightest fraction. I squeezed my eyes shut and hid my face in Aiden’s chest.

A muffled voice rose outside the door.

The footsteps retreated.

Aiden’s body relaxed against mine, his breath warm against the side of my cheek as he slowly exhaled.

I lifted my head and found Aiden’s gaze already on me.

My breath caught in my throat. 

Moonlight brushed across his skin, tracing the strong line of his jaw and the curve of his lips.

A cool breeze stirred the night air, but I barely felt it. Our bodies were pressed flush together, the heat of him seeping through the thin barrier of fabric and settling low in my core.

Each nerve in my body felt like a live wire, sparking at each point we touched.

He tucked a strand of my hair behind my ear. My skin tingled where his palm brushed my cheek.

His hand did not fall away. His palm remained at my cheek, cradling my face as though he could not bear to let me go.

And I did not want him to.

His gaze dipped to my lips once more, lingering there, before slowly returning to my eyes.

Our gazes held. 

His head dropped a fraction lower. His nose brushed mine, his breath ghosting across my mouth.

His mouth hovered above mine, so close I could almost feel the warmth of his lips.

My eyes fluttered shut, fingers curling into the fabric of his tunic.

I rose onto my toes, my chin tipping upward.

Aiden’s fingers pressed deeper into my waist.

Then, his forehead dropped to mine. 

“We can’t.” His voice was rough, as if the words themselves pained him. 

“I know,” I whispered, my own voice cracking.

Aiden’s jaw tightened. His grip loosened—reluctantly, almost painfully so—before his hands slid away from me.

I took a single step back, creating space that felt far too wide, far too cold. The loss of his warmth was jarring.

My arms fell back to my sides, fingers clutching my robe to keep them from trembling.

His gaze lingered on me—conflicted, aching with everything left unsaid—before he finally forced his eyes away.

He pushed off the wall, hands balled into fists, knuckles white.

“I should…” he started, then cut himself off. His voice was more strained than before. He cleared his throat. “We shouldn’t be here.”

I forced myself to nod, even though every part of me wanted to close the distance again. Wanted to pretend the world outside that door didn’t exist.

But it did.

I searched for the familiar steadiness, the polished calm I had been taught to wear like armor, but it was gone. I looked away and started for the door.

My fingers had just grazed the latch when movement flickered at the edges of my vision.

Aiden caught my wrist.

“Monroe…” his voice low and strained caught on my name.

I turned just enough to see the conflict on his face—the tight line of his jaw and the flare of his nostrils.

He drew in a sharp breath.

His fingers flexed instinctively against my skin, but he did not let go.

My pulse hammered beneath his fingertips.

“Don’t.”

His fingers tightened.

Then I was moving—pulled toward him.

His hands rose and cupped my face.

His mouth claimed mine.

For a single, breathless moment my mind went blank.

My lips softened beneath his. But before my body could fully follow, he broke the kiss.

My body swayed, dizzy.

My eyes fluttered open.

His breath came ragged in the narrow space between us.

“Aiden,” I breathed.

Realization flickered across his face.

His hands pulled away.

By the time the haze lifted, Aiden was at the door.

His hand closed around the latch. He paused and looked back at me.

Then the door opened, and he was gone.

Chapter Twelve

M+A Chapter 9

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“The Prince has been called away.”

“The Prince sends his apologies.”

“The Prince regrets to inform you…”

The lines were always the same—always spoken by Aiden.

I had hoped I might convince myself that what had happened between us in the sitting room had been nothing more than a moment of weakness. A misstep. A trick of proximity and silence.

But with each of the prince’s absences, and each appearance of Sir Aiden in his stead, that illusion grew harder to maintain.

I sat in the solarium, one of my books opened before me, when I heard the soft click of the door.

“Pardon, Princess,” Aiden said.

My fingers tensed slightly around the book. I kept my gaze fixed on the words before me, forcing my attention to the neat rows of ink instead of the way my pulse misbehaved at the sound of his voice. I did not look up.

“Good afternoon, Sir Aiden,” I said, careful to keep my tone even. “What awaits us today?”

He stopped just inside the door, “Whatever the Princess wishes,” he said.

I slid my page marker into place, closed the book softly and set it aside before finally looking up. I regretted it at once.

“We have seen the garden, the library, and walked the courtyard—twice. Tell me, Sir Aiden, what do you suggest?”

He considered for a moment. “There’s an old path beyond the eastern grounds,” he said. “It’s cool beneath the trees, quiet. I walk there when I need space.”

He hesitated for just a fraction, then quietly added, “If you would care to see it?”

I should have declined. It would have been the sensible thing to do. Yet the words that left me were not the ones I ought to have spoken. “I would like that.”

His throat bobbed once before he inclined his head. “Very well, Princess.”

I stood and smoothed out my skirts. Then he offered me his arm.

The path was shaded beneath broad canopies. A gentle breeze occasionally swept through, carrying scents of damp earth and moss. Birds perched high in the treetops, twittered and warbled. Sharp pinpricks of light filtered through the leaves, making them shimmer.

Walking side by side, my arm linked through Aiden’s, we meandered down the path at a leisurely pace. There was no pressure to fill the silence, no need to weigh each word before speaking. After days of careful composure, I no longer felt so restrained.

“This place is beautiful,” I said, sweeping my gaze over the trail. “I can see why you like it.”

“Just wait, Princess. There is more yet to see.”

The trail curved around moss-covered boulders and slipped past clusters of wild mushrooms and berry bushes. It rounded one final bend before opening into a wide, circular clearing rimmed with slender birch trees. At the far edge, a crystal-clear stream threaded its way through the landscape, its gentle movement catching the light.

“Oh, wow,” I breathed.

I unlinked my arm from Aiden’s and took a few steps into the clearing. It felt as though I’d stepped into another world. I turned in a slow circle, taking in the space. When I faced Aiden again, he was watching me, something unguarded in his expression. Not duty. Not vigilance. It felt almost as though he were looking past the crown, past the expectation, and straight to the marrow of me.

My breath faltered. I felt suddenly, dangerously known, yet I did not retreat.

I swallowed, steadying myself.

I turned away, letting my gaze drift back over the clearing. “This is…I’m not sure I even have the words.”

“I understand,” Aiden said, joining me. “It’s my favorite place in Bedford. It’s the one place I can just…be.”

That gave me pause. Not because I didn’t understand exactly what he meant, but because I had never once considered that Aiden might desire anything beyond what he was.

“I know what you mean,” I said. “The gardens are that for me. There I can exist simply as Monroe. I have only ever known you as Sir Aiden. I had not realized there was more.”

His brows rose ever so slightly, as if he were unaccustomed to being seen and unsure what to do with it.

Our gazes held.

Slowly, some of the tension left his shoulders. Mine followed.

Something in the air seemed to loosen, as if we’d both finally let out a breath we hadn’t realized we were holding. Even the clearing seemed to breath with us.

After a quiet beat of shared understanding, Aiden extended his hand. “Join me?” he asked.

Without hesitation, I slipped my hand into his. His fingers curled around my palm, his grip sure and steady. Warmth spread through my arm and settled deep in my chest.

He guided me to the stream’s bank where two overturned stumps rested at the edge. Aiden helped me down and then settled beside me. We sat in silence, listening to the quiet rush of the stream, the rustling of leaves overhead, and the chittering of birds.

“I’ve never brought anyone here before,” he said, his voice so low and soft I almost missed it.

Something tugged low in my chest as though some invisible thread between us had been drawn taut. “I’m glad you did,” I said. “Thank you for sharing it with me.”

“As am I,” he said, offering a small smile before turning to the stream.

I let my gaze linger on him a moment longer.

It struck me then how different he was here. His shoulders were loose, his posture relaxed, and his gaze no longer sharp with vigilance but thoughtful, at ease. There was a quiet confidence in him I hadn’t noticed before. One not forged by duty, but by belonging.

This was not the disciplined knight who stood at my side in court. This was simply Aiden.

And I was unprepared for how deeply I felt the difference.

Chapter Ten