The stable was quiet. Still.
Everyone else at the estate was asleep, but Scarlett hadn't moved. Not since she stepped inside and saw him.
Brian stood a few feet away, brushing the horse with long, steady strokes. His sleeves were rolled up. He didn't speak, didn't look at her—just kept brushing, slow and calm, like it was second nature.
There was something different about him in that moment. No tie. No mask. No sharp edge. Just a man in the quiet, doing something real.
Scarlett didn't know why she hadn't turned around. Maybe it was the peace. Maybe the stillness. Or maybe it was the way he hadn't seemed surprised to see her there. As if he'd already known.
She stood barefoot in the dust, arms resting lightly around her waist. The silk of her gown brushed against her ankles every time the air shifted, cool against her skin. It made her feel aware. Present. A little too seen.
Her thoughts wandered. She wasn't really thinking—just feeling. And watching him, not for any reason, just... because.
Then he glanced at her.
Their eyes met. Only for a second. But something passed between them—like a silent question neither of them dared to ask. She looked away first.
"You like horses?" he asked quietly, still brushing.
Scarlett blinked. "I think they're beautiful."
He nodded. "They don't lie. What they feel, they show."
She watched the mare shift under his hand, calm and still.
"You talk about them like you wish people were more like that."
He paused. "Some of them should be."
Another silence settled. But it wasn't awkward. If anything, it was clearer than words.
"There's a lake out past the trees," he said, setting the brush down. "It's quiet there. Good place to think."
She didn't move. Didn't answer.
Then he looked at her fully. Not pressing. Just open.
"You want to go for a ride?"
Scarlett's fingers tightened lightly around her arms. Her instinct said no—because this was quiet, and she wasn't sure what quiet would bring. But something inside her leaned toward the stillness. Toward him.
"Just a ride?" she asked.
He nodded once. "Just a ride."
Willow was already saddled.
Scarlett stepped toward the mare slowly, gathering the fabric of her gown in one hand. The slit along her thigh shifted as she moved. She hadn't meant to wear something like this outside, hadn't meant for it to be seen.
She reached for the saddle. Lifted her foot.
The slit opened a little too far.
And then Brian was behind her—steady, close. His hand found the edge of the silk and slid under, firm and warm on the bare skin of her thigh.
He didn't rush. Didn't grip. Just lifted her with quiet strength.
She gasped—not loudly, but enough to feel it. Enough to know her body had gone still. His hand stayed just long enough to hold her.
Then it was gone.
She didn't look down. She didn't say a word.
Neither did he.
Brian mounted behind her. The saddle creaked as he settled in. One hand held the reins. The other rested gently at her side, fingers just grazing the fabric near her waist.
The gown was thin. She could feel everything.
The horse moved slowly into the field. Hooves soft against the grass. The moon lit the land in a quiet silver glow, and the air around them was cool, filled with the rustle of leaves and the soft sound of breathing.
Neither of them spoke.
Scarlett felt the warmth of his body at her back. The steady rise and fall of his breath. His hand never wandered, but it didn't move away either.
The silence stretched. And somehow, it felt closer than words.
She didn't know what this was. Didn't want to name it. All she knew was that she hadn't felt this quiet in a long time.
And she wasn't sure if she wanted the ride to end.
The lake appeared like glass, still and dark, edged with trees that swayed slightly in the breeze. Moonlight danced across the surface, breaking the reflection into waves of light.
Brian slowed the mare and climbed down first. Then he turned and held out a hand.
Scarlett took it.
His fingers curled around hers, warm and sure. He helped her down slowly, and when her bare feet touched the earth, her body brushed against his chest for just a second.
Neither of them moved away.
She looked up at him. No smile. No question.
He didn't look away.
For a moment, it felt like something was about to be said. Something small. Honest.
But then he turned, guiding the horse toward the trees.
She followed without a word.
They rode back in silence.
Slower this time. Like both of them were letting it last just a little longer.
The wind played with her hair. The gown fluttered in the breeze. His hand rested lightly at her waist, and her body had stopped pretending not to notice.
By the time they reached the stable, the edge of morning was just beginning to show—light, pale, and far away.
He dismounted first. Then helped her down again.
This time, he didn't touch her thigh. Didn't steady her by the waist.
He just held her hand a second longer than necessary.
Then let go.
They walked back to the house quietly, side by side.
At the top of the stairs, they paused. She didn't know what she was waiting for. Maybe nothing.
He glanced at her once.
She gave a small nod.
And turned.
Scarlett slipped into her room without a word. Closed the door gently. The quiet inside felt different now.
She leaned back against the door. Let out the breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding.
She didn't cry. Didn't panic.
She just sat at the edge of the bed, still in the silk gown, her skin still humming where he'd touched her. Not even the sheets could erase it.
She didn't sleep.
But she didn't feel tired either.
Something had shifted. Not loud. Not clear. Just… real.
And tomorrow?
They'd act like nothing happened.
And maybe they'd both believe it.
But in the quiet, alone in the dark, she already knew—
She wouldn't forget.