He led her toward the stables, his pace steady and purposeful.
"You always said you wanted to learn," Nathaniel's voice broke the silence, his words almost too casual. Evelyn's heart skipped a beat as they neared the wooden doors, the scent of hay and leather filling the air as the sun climbed higher, casting golden rays over the estate.
Her breath hitched slightly at the sight of the stables. She hadn't expected this.
Stopping just outside, Nathaniel turned to face her, his eyes sharp and calculating, as though he were measuring her reaction. "I thought today would be the perfect time to teach you how to ride."
Evelyn blinked, a wave of confusion washing over her. Ride a horse?
The idea unsettled her more than she cared to admit. She wasn't sure why. Maybe it was the way Nathaniel had phrased it, as if she had no choice but to comply, as if he knew what was best for her. She'd mentioned it once, long ago, in a simpler time when she had no idea how deeply tangled she'd become in his world of lies and power plays.
"I… I did mention it," she murmured, her gaze flickering toward the stables, the uncertainty heavy in her chest. Horses were majestic, powerful, but also unpredictable. Was this just another way for Nathaniel to exert control over her, another layer of his dominance?
Nathaniel seemed to read her hesitation, his lips curling into an amused smile. "Don't worry," he said, his tone light, but with an edge that left no room for argument. "I'll be right there with you. You'll be fine. You'll see."
He glanced over his shoulder, his gaze settling on Clara, who was standing nearby.
"Dress her up in the appropriate attire for this," he ordered, his voice carrying the weight of finality.
Clara, who had been quietly standing nearby, nodded immediately. She moved with practiced efficiency, her expression unreadable but respectful. "Of course, my lord," she said softly.
Evelyn hesitated, glancing between Nathaniel and Clara, but she said nothing. She was already feeling the heavy weight of the situation pressing down on her. Despite the calmness in Nathaniel's voice, there was a palpable undercurrent of authority, and Evelyn couldn't ignore the sense that this wasn't just about learning how to ride.
"Come with me, my lady," Clara urged gently, leading Evelyn inside the stable. The wooden floor creaked beneath her steps as they passed rows of horses, each one eyeing her with curiosity. Evelyn had always been drawn to them from a distance, but she never imagined herself so close. Not now, not in this strange, controlled version of her life.
Clara guided her to a small room off to the side, a space where riding clothes were kept. "This should fit," Clara said, pulling a set of dark, fitted trousers, a soft blouse, and a tailored jacket from the shelves.
Evelyn hesitated before she spoke, her voice a little unsure. "I've never ridden before… Are you sure this is—"
"Please, my lady," Clara interrupted, her tone soft but firm, "it is as Lord Nathaniel wishes."
The weight of the words hung in the air, reminding Evelyn that she was still trapped in a game where she had little power to change the rules.
She sighed, slipping into the riding clothes. The fit was snug and unfamiliar, the fabric rougher than the soft silks she was used to. When she emerged, Clara stood waiting, her eyes scanning her appearance with approval.
"There," Clara said with a faint smile. "You look quite fine."
Evelyn didn't feel fine, but she nodded. She was sure the last thing Nathaniel would want was for her to refuse.
When she returned to the stable yard, Nathaniel was already beside a large chestnut horse, a well-muscled creature with a gleaming coat. He looked up as she approached, his eyes briefly scanning her form with satisfaction.
"Good," he said, his voice low and steady. "Now, let's get started."
Evelyn felt her stomach tighten. She had no idea what to expect. Would he take control of the reins as he did with everything else? Or would this moment, too, be just another way for him to subtly remind her of her lack of choice?
Nathaniel offered her a small smile, almost as if he read her mind, and she couldn't help but feel exposed under his gaze.
"Don't worry," he said again, with a trace of that teasing tone from earlier. "I'll make sure you don't fall. Just trust me."
It was the last thing she wanted to do—trust him. But, once again, she had no choice.
Slowly, Nathaniel helped her mount the horse, his hands briefly brushing against her sides as he steadied her. Evelyn stiffened but said nothing, aware of how close he stood. He seemed unfazed by her silence, focused instead on ensuring her balance as she sat atop the horse.
"There you go," Nathaniel said, stepping back slightly. "Now, hold the reins like this."
He guided her hands gently, positioning them on the leather straps before taking a step back, watching her with quiet intensity.
"Try to relax," he added. "The horse can sense your tension."
Evelyn didn't respond, her grip tightening on the reins. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest, but she couldn't tell if it was from fear of the horse or from Nathaniel's constant, unnerving presence.
"Move with the horse. Feel its rhythm," Nathaniel instructed, taking a step to the side as if to observe. "Let it guide you."
Evelyn's breath caught as the horse shifted beneath her, its large hooves lifting off the ground with a soft clop. She took a slow breath and attempted to follow Nathaniel's instructions, shifting her body in sync with the animal's movements. But each time the horse moved, she felt a jolt of nervousness, her grip on the reins tightening.
Nathaniel's gaze never left her, a quiet observance in his eyes.
"You're doing fine," he said. "But I think you need to loosen up a bit. You're still too stiff."
Evelyn closed her eyes for a moment, trying to steady her nerves. With Nathaniel's eyes watching her every move, she felt far from fine.
But she continued, slowly moving with the horse, one step at a time. She had no other choice.
The horse came to a stop near the edge of the paddock, and Evelyn exhaled shakily, her legs aching from the tension of riding. Nathaniel approached silently, his boots crunching softly over the earth, the cool morning breeze tugging at his coat.
"You did well," he said, taking the reins with one hand while the other slid along the horse's neck. His fingers brushed against hers—lightly, deliberately—and Evelyn's pulse quickened.
He glanced up at her, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. "You looked… almost natural up there."
Almost.
She blinked at the compliment, unsure if it was genuine or layered with something she couldn't quite name. Her breath caught when he stepped closer, his arm coming around her waist as she prepared to dismount.
"Careful," he murmured, catching her against his chest as she landed. "Wouldn't want you to fall now, would we?"
Their bodies were close—too close. For a second, Evelyn didn't move. His scent, clean and sharp like smoke and leather, filled her senses. It was wrong how steadying it felt to be held by him. Wrong, and yet...
His hand lingered at her waist, and when he spoke again, his voice was lower, more intimate.
"You surprise me," he said. "There's something different about you lately."
Evelyn stiffened. "Different?"
His fingers drifted to a loose strand of hair near her ear, brushing it back with a gentleness that contradicted the steel in his tone.
"You carry yourself differently. More… assured. It suits you."
She met his eyes, heart thundering. Was he testing her? Did he know? No—his smile was too careful, too smooth, as though he were planting a seed and waiting to see if it would bloom.
"Thank you," she said, barely above a whisper.
He tilted his head slightly. "Don't thank me yet."
There it was—the shift. His smile didn't waver, but something cold edged into his voice.
"I admire obedience," he said, his thumb ghosting over her cheek. "But I admire understanding even more. When one knows their place… and embraces it."
Her stomach turned. She couldn't tell if he was speaking to her or to Eleanor, the memory of her, the echo Evelyn kept being measured against.
He leaned in just enough for his lips to brush her temple. "Keep this up," he murmured, "and you might just become everything I need."
And with that, he stepped back—only slightly—his eyes fixed on her face as if waiting for something to crack. Evelyn stood frozen, her breath caught in her throat, thoughts racing.
Everything he needs?
The words echoed in her mind, twisting around her uncertainty, stirring something she didn't want to name. His tone had been soft, but the promise behind it felt like a noose—velvet-lined, but a noose all the same.
She opened her mouth, unsure what she even meant to say.
But before a single word could fall, Nathaniel's hand moved—swift and certain—curling around the back of her neck, and then he kissed her.
It wasn't gentle.
It wasn't kind.
It was possession dressed up as affection. Her hands shot up in startled protest, but they hovered uselessly at his chest, caught between resistance and the way her heart threatened to betray her.
The kiss lingered just a moment too long, as if he were daring her to push him away.
When he finally pulled back, his breath mingled with hers, his eyes dark and unreadable.
"There," he said quietly, his voice laced with something dangerous and amused. "Now you're beginning to understand."
He let her go then, as though nothing had happened at all. Evelyn was left standing in the paddock, lips tingling, mind reeling—not just from the kiss, but from the terrifying truth she felt creeping in:
Nathaniel was no longer comparing her to Eleanor.
He was beginning to replace her.