Page 117 of Stolen By the Heartless Duke

Colin shook his head slightly, as if he didn’t want that apology to stand alone.

Evan’s voice lowered. “For everything that happened because I thought I could control it.”

The room fell quiet again. Even the fire seemed subdued. Hector stared at him for a long moment. Something in him was still braced, unsure what to do with all the tightly wound energy. But beneath it there was relief. Raw, unfiltered, almost disorienting relief.

Hector exhaled slowly. When he spoke again, it was quieter. “You are alive.”

Evan blinked slightly, caught off guard by the simplicity of it.

Hector’s voice tightened just a fraction. “That is all you had to say.”

As if the rest of it—anger, questions, and explanations—could not compete with that one fact. Evan’s expression changed then. And without warning, he stepped forward and pulled Hector into an embrace.

Hector froze for half a second, entirely unaccustomed to this kind of contact from Evan in any context that wasn’t childhood chaos or the aftermath of an argument.

Then Evan’s arms tightened slightly. “I missed you,” Evan said quietly into his shoulder.

Hector hesitated. Then, awkwardly, stiffly, he lifted a hand and patted Evan once on the back.

“I missed you as well,” Hector said, his voice rougher than intended.

From the side, Jane exhaled faintly, and Colin let out a small, broken laugh that sounded like it hurt and healed at the same time.

And now, the room no longer felt like it was holding its breath. The mood began settling into something that might finally, carefully, begin to resemble peace.

Chapter Seventeen

The cottage settled into an unfamiliar quiet once the urgency of rescue had passed. It was not the silence of danger. Hector knew that kind well. It rang sharp, like steel waiting to be drawn.

This silence was softer.

The crackle of the hearth filled the single room while rain tapped lightly against the small windows. Someone had hung herbs from the rafters, and their earthy scent mingled with woodsmoke. It was humble. Far humbler than anywhere Evan had ever lived.

Yet Hector had never seen his brother look more at ease.

Evan knelt beside Colin with a basin of warm water balanced on a stool. His sleeves were rolled to his forearms, revealing skin scratched by weeks spent surviving alone. He dipped a cleancloth into the water before gently pressing it against the bruise along Colin’s temple.

“You’ll have quite the collection of scars,” Evan murmured.

Colin managed a crooked smile. “I should like to keep at least one. It will remind me not to ignore your advice again.”

“You ignored nearly all of it.”

“I was distracted.”

Evan huffed a quiet laugh. “I noticed.”

Watching them unsettled Hector in ways he had not expected. He had spent years imagining every possible future for his younger brother. None of them resembled this.

He had expected reckless adventures. Or debts. Scandals certainly. Another foolish wager that would require rescuing. Love had never crossed his mind. Not because Evan was incapable of it, but because Hector had never allowed himself to imagine Evan belonging to someone else.

That realization sat heavily upon his chest. He had always believed he was protecting his brother. Had he simply been holding him too tightly?

Across the room, Jane remained beside Colin’s chair, speaking little. Hector watched as she watched the two men with quiet attention, smiling whenever Colin attempted another joke despite the swelling around his face.

She had every reason to demand answers. Every reason to be angry. Instead, compassion shone plainly across her features. She was remarkable. The thought came without permission.

Hector frowned at himself and looked toward the fire.