When she’d said, I love you, looking straight at him, deep into his eyes and heart, he’d wanted to beat his chest and shout his love for her, as she had said, from the rooftop. He’d wanted, needed her to know how he’d felt from even before the night they’d shared together. But there were things he needed her to know before he could.

Henry couldn’t take his eyes from her as she wound through the tables, a bolt of white silk stretching from the floor-length skirt to her thigh with each step she took, the effect both stunning and sensual at the same time. He instantly regretted being away for her for a second. He’d hated the idea of her being alone for the wedding, and had desperately tried to make it back on time, but the traffic had been wall to wall and with each and every second he’d felt as if he were losing her. Until now.

She was simply the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and he never, ever wanted to be without her again. It took both seconds and hours for her to reach where he stood in the doorway to the orangery and for a moment they just stood and stared at each other.

He was speechless. He’d had so much to say. So much. But in that moment, all he could do was fill his eyes and heart with the sight of her. She seemed as overcome as he, and he searched her gaze for some sign that he hadn’t completely ruined everything, still not quite believing that this incredible woman might just feel the same way as him. A shuddering sigh wracked his chest as a strange sense of peace and urgency filled him simultaneously.

‘Ah … Can I … can we go somewhere to talk?’ he stumbled.

She nodded, even as they had to shift out of the way of servers bringing out the first course of the wedding breakfast. She turned to walk past him but guilt stirred in his chest.

‘Wait,’ he called to her. ‘The food, your menu—’

‘That’s OK.’

‘But—’

‘Not what’s important right now, Hawkesbury.’

She couldn’t see, but a huge grin split his features. She’d called him Hawkesbury. That couldn’t be a bad sign, could it? Though the grin turned into a frown the moment he realized that for the first time since he’d come back to Hawke’s Cove, Lily Atwell didn’t care about the wedding. Oh God. Had he already hurt her that much? Had he hurt her too much?

He followed her out into the hallway that split the main building and the orangery and back out into the open air towards the benches in front of the distillery. Where they had – was it only weeks ago? – shared wine and talked about their birthdays.