Scoundrel With A Noble Heart (sequel of Disgraceful)

Chapter 95

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"Not a bad sight," she murmured. "Not a bad sight at all."

A slight frown creased his brows then his lips curved into a knowing smile.
"Seems you've found a more captivating view closer by," he teased, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

Marguerite felt a blush creep up her neck. "You're... you're so vain!" she stammered, flustered.

Jacob shrugged, a hint of a playful smirk still lingering. "Never underestimate the power of a captivating sunset, or perhaps," he added, his voice dropping a notch lower, "the person standing next to it."

Marguerite huffed, a strangled laugh escaping her lips despite her annoyance.
"You are incorrigible!"

To Marguerite's relief, the playful banter eased the simmering tension. Jacob turned his attention to the treehouse, stepping forward to push the rough-hewn door. The old boards swayed open, its hinges creaking a rusty welcome. He paused at the threshold, beckoning her with a tilt of his head.
"Welcome aboard. Care to see what secrets this place holds?"

Marguerite preceded him into the house, squinting her eyes against the darkness inside. The last ray of sunlight filtered in through gaps in the boarded-up windows, casting long shadows across the uneven floorboards. The air was thick with the scent of aged wood. Cobwebs hung from the rafters, a layer of dust coated every worn surface. Leaning against the wall was a sturdy makeshift table littered with stuff; a leather-bound book, a quill rested in an inkwell carved from a deer antler, and maps, some yellowed with age and marked with faded trails and cryptic symbols. In the corner, a simple cot was piled high with threadbare blankets. On the other side of the room, a small, unlit lantern hung from a hook.

Marguerite studied all the articles scattered across the space with interest, every single piece a silent testament of childhood wonders and a desire for adventure.

However, one particular thing captured her attention more than the other. A small, hand-stitched tapestry depicting a sailing ship that hung crookedly on the wall. Pausing before it, Marguerite traced her fingers along its faded threads.
"I never thought of you as someone who appreciates this sort of thing."

Jacob stood close, his presence wrapped around her like a warm sunshine despite the chilly air.
"The picture represents my childhood dream of escaping to faraway lands."

The casual remark struck a deeper chord. Marguerite took a deep breath, carefully measuring her words,
"You have everything most could only dream of. Privilege from a noble birth, freedom most never know, and the blessing of a complete family."
Her eyes met his, a flicker of something raw and unsaid passing between them. "Why would someone want to escape from all that?"

His smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of pain crossing his features before he quickly masked it. "It's not that simple," he replied, his voice held a hidden pain.

Marguerite felt a pang of empathy for him. "Care to share?" she offered gently.

A heavy silence settled between them, broken only by the rustling of leaves in the wind. When he remained silent, she prompted,
"I only had my mother growing up," She confessed, her voice a soft murmur. "And often, I felt rather lonely, especially when she was occupied with... the men. I always envied those who had a stable family, you know, with both parents and siblings. A constant home is something I could only dream of."

Jacob turned to face her, his gaze intense. "Sometimes things get messy," he said quietly. "And trust me, being alone can seem preferable to a fractured family."