Despite the unshakable attraction between them, Maeve and Lucian are uninterested in love and marriage; especially since they hate one another and couldn't think of a worse match.
• • •
London, 1815
Maeve Langston's aversion to the opposite sex has...
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Maeve felt as though her life had become purposeless. The night she'd spent with Lucian, the tender moments they'd shared in the treehouse, would remain with her until the day she died.
Everything had been so intense yet melancholic, as if they'd known they were living in a memory instead of the present. Their story had been granted a few extra hours, and only God knew if there would be more in the future.
As she aimlessly walked the hallway of the manor, struggling to find what she needed to do about the overwhelming sadness within her, she relieved their brief encounter.
After she'd made love to him, the ending of it tearful and poignant, they'd lay on the covers for a moment, talking about the future they so terribly wanted. Lucian had seemed tired, but he'd fought through it to make their night last as long as possible. After a short break, he'd made love to her with tender intensity. As she'd asked, he'd forced himself to pull out at the last moment, protecting her and her family from further scandal.
His fatigue had gotten the best of him soon after, and she'd watched him for a moment as he slept by her side. She'd allowed herself to rest as well, aware it might be the last time she'd sleep in his embrace. Chirping birds had woken her in the early hours of the day, the sky barely lighting up, and she'd lingered a little longer to observe him one last time.
Because saying goodbye would have hurt too much, she'd carefully slipped away from his strong arms and had quietly gotten dressed. After one last longing look at his sleeping shape, she'd gotten down the ladder, ready to get back to her room.
She hadn't bothered climbing the oak tree again, entering through the main door on the lake side, and had returned to her chambers, silent tears drenching her cheeks.
Now, after she'd woken up alone and miserable, and after a bath to get rid of the traces of him before someone noticed, she didn't know what to do with her crushing emotions.
They deserved better than that. Better than this unfair destiny.
With everything she had, she hoped Lucian would find who'd done this to them. She hoped he'd find them and make them pay for all the pain they'd caused.
Without realizing it, Maeve's feet carried her to Ailia's room. Despite everything that had happened between them, she needed her twin. Of all the people in this world, no one knew her better than her sister, no one understood her like she did. They'd been drifting apart for months now, even though they'd gotten close again at some point. But between Ailia's engagement and the assumption that Lucian had betrayed their secrets, Maeve barely felt a connection to her sister anymore.
And because of the wedding tomorrow which would take Ailia away from her, she might never feel close to her twin ever again. The idea pained her, causing her heart to clench into her chest. It was unacceptable that their close sisterhood should end like this.
Impulsively, she opened the door without knocking, determined to talk to her sister before it was too late. As expected, Ailia was there, getting ready for lunch. Both she and her maid turned around to see who'd barge in like this. While the maid offered Maeve a bow and a smile, Ailia's expression turned cold and she twisted back to face the tall mirror.
