Now, at seventeen, she was breathtaking.

Still the same girl, but more—his best friend, his anchor, the only soul who had ever truly seen him. Holding her hand in his, thumb brushing the calluses there, a fierce certainty settled in him. He would not live the life his parents had—two strangers chained together by fortune and title. He would have more. He would have her.

He shifted closer, guiding her gently as she yielded, letting him draw her against him in the soft summer shade. Her breath brushed his cheek, her fingers curled trustingly around his. In that quiet, he made his vow, unspoken but absolute. He would protect her, cherish her, fight for her… for love, not legacy. Because she was the only woman who had ever held his heart.