A Criminal Kiss [Max Verstappen]

chapter four

The carriage rattled down the uneven cobblestone road as I leaned out slightly, ignoring the cautious glance from Oscar, and almost laughable glance from Lando; both seated across from me. The village of Canterbury was coming alive in the mid-afternoon sun, its streets bustling with shopkeepers setting out their goods, townsfolk exchanging pleasantries, and children darting between carts with carefree movements.

I had only been into town a handful of times before, and each visit felt like stepping into another world—a world so different from the perfectly ordered life on the estate. Here, there was chaos, laughter, and life unrestrained.

"Your Grace," Oscar said with a soft sigh, "please do not lean so far out of the carriage. It is not a very good look."

I straightened slightly but couldn't resist casting another glance out the window. "Good-looking or not, Oscar, it's the only way to see anything properly. Unless you plan to walk me through the streets yourself?"

I heard a snort from Lando as he quickly covered him mouth. Oscar gave me a tired look, also shooting a glare towards the other man, but before he could reply, the carriage came to a slow halt near the center of the village. The driver, Pierre, hopped down and opened the door, bowing slightly as he gestured for me to step out.

The smells of freshly baked bread, dried herbs, and the faint tang of river water greeted me as I set foot on the cobblestones. Villagers glanced my way, some pausing in their tasks to bow or curtsy as I passed. It was an acknowledgment I had grown used to, though it always felt more like a barrier than a sign of respect.

"Let's not linger too long," Oscar murmured as he fell into step behind me. "Your father—"

"—would disapprove of me coming here in the first place," I finished for him. "I'm quite aware. That's why we're here now and not later, isn't it?"

I didn't wait for his reply as I wandered further into the square, letting the hum of activity guide my steps. My gaze swept over the stalls and shops.

I should have been back at the estate, planning my next meeting with some boring suitor, but instead, I was here, enjoying this stolen moment of freedom.

Then, my attention was caught by a commotion near the far end of the square. A group of children, loud and excitable, were running in all directions as a tall figure moved among them, trying to corral the chaos.

"Jonathan, get down from there!" the man called, his voice stern but tinged with exasperation. He turned to another child, who was tugging on a girl's braid, and raised an eyebrow. "Michael, do you want to stay behind today?"

The children groaned in unison, but his words worked like magic. One by one, they fell into some semblance of order, forming a loose line near the edge of the square.

I found myself lingering at a distance, my curiosity piqued. The man—or, the teacher—stood tall and commanding, his light brown hair slightly disheveled from chasing the children, his coat faintly dusted with chalk.

There was an energy about him, an earnestness I couldn't quite place. He didn't seem to resent the chaos around him, even as he rolled his eyes or pinched the bridge of his nose in mock frustration. Instead, he seemed... alive. Present in a way I hadn't seen before.

"Who is that?" I asked softly, glancing at Oscar and Lando.

They followed my gaze, frowning slightly. "Max Verstappen," Lando said after a moment. "The schoolteacher here in Canterbury."

"Max," I murmured, testing the name on my tongue.

"He's harmless," Oscar added, his tone dismissive. "A commoner, but he's done good work with the village children."

"Hmm," I replied, watching as Max crouched down to speak to one of the younger children, his tone softening as he patted the boy on the shoulder.

There was something captivating about the way he moved, the way he commanded attention without needing to shout or demand. He had an ease about him, a kind of confidence that didn't come from wealth or title.

For a moment, I envied the children who looked up at him with such trust and admiration. They didn't see a Duke's daughter standing nearby. They didn't have to worry about rules or propriety. They simply existed, untethered.

"Your Grace," Oscar prompted, pulling me from my thoughts. "Shall we move on?"

I hesitated, my gaze lingering on Max one last time before nodding. "Yes," I said quietly.

Max P.O.V

The village square was its usual morning chaos, a blur of children shouting, merchants haggling, and dogs darting between carts. I stood in the middle of it all, trying to round up the group of students I was supposed to be escorting back to the schoolhouse.

"Matteo, if you climb that cart one more time, I swear you're spending the afternoon cleaning chalkboards," I called, watching as the boy reluctantly slid down from a vendor's cart.

"Jon, leave Jessica alone," I added, raising an eyebrow at the boy tugging on her braid. "That's not how you get someone to like you. Trust me."

The other children giggled as Jonathan flushed crimson, but it got them to settle down—at least for the moment. I sighed, running a hand through my hair, which was probably a mess by now.

Then I saw her.

She stood near the edge of the square, her posture impossibly straight, her dress far too fine for a place like this. She didn't belong here, not among the dust and noise of the village, and yet... there she was.

I didn't need anyone to tell me who she was. The perfectly coiffed hair, the guarded expression, the two men trailing behind her like shadows—it could only be the Duke's daughter. The Duchess-to-be.

Annalise Cook.

Her eyes swept over the square, pausing briefly on the group of children before landing on me. She didn't look away immediately, and for some reason, that made me feel... odd. What was she even doing here? Didn't she have some ball to plan or a duke to charm?

I turned back to the children, trying to shake off the way her gaze lingered, but I couldn't help noticing how annoyingly perfect she looked. The kind of perfect that comes from a life of never having to worry about whether you can afford bread for dinner.

Pretty, though. Not that I cared.

My attention drifted to Pierre, who stood by the carriage nearby, his arms crossed as he leaned against the door. He caught my eye and gave me a small, tired smile—one that said, Yeah, kill me now.

I smiled back, amused by his quiet rebellion. Pierre had driven the Cook family's carriage for years, but it was no secret he didn't love his job. I'd heard him grumble about the endless errands, the strict schedules, the way they treated him as little more than a tool.

He gave me a slight shrug before straightening up, his posture returning to its usual stiff formality as her Grace turned back toward him. It was like watching a bird fly straight into a cage, willingly or not.

The children tugged at my sleeve, pulling me back to reality. "Mr., can we go now?" one of them asked, their impatience bubbling over.

"Yeah, yeah," I muttered, waving them forward. "Let's go before someone climbs another cart."

As we passed the Duke's daughter, I felt her eyes on me again. This time, I refused to look her way. Instead, I focused on herding the children, pretending I didn't care that she was still standing there, watching like I was some peculiar animal in her well-manicured garden.

But as we turned the corner and she disappeared from view, I caught myself glancing back. Just once.

And that was annoying too.

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thanks for reading :)
they saw each other! yeah max isn't the most fond but oh well...
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