The sun, a glorious ball of fire, shrouded the Rochefort’s majestic garden with hues of crimson and magenta, bathing the flowers in its final warm light.
It was a breathtaking sight, and the only witness to its beauty was a lone gardener. His attention, however, had been drawn to something other than his task.
He had seen the Duke’s daughter enter the gardens from the corner of his eye.
The sun’s fading light touched her midnight blue hair, giving it a warm glow with hints of violet.
“My Lady,” he said, bowing his head as he approached her.
She looked up at the sound of his voice, “Lucian.”
Standing at least a foot above her, she had to crane her neck in order to look him in the eyes. Lucian was a handsome young man, his looks only enhanced by the dirt and grime that covered him, and the sweat that soaked through his clothes.
“It’s been a long time,” he said.
Her face remained passive. “Has it? I hadn’t noticed,” she replied coolly.
His face flushed slightly, and a muscle in his jaw clenched when she approached him. She was so close, her sweet scent filled his nostrils, urging him to pull her into his arms, and taste her soft pink lips, “How are your studies going? You haven’t burned down the academy yet, I hope.”
She laughed, a melodic sound, “Not yet, though I’m quite tempted.”
He smiled, glad he could still bring a smile to her face. He had missed her, more than she would ever know. He wanted to reach out and caress her cheek, feel her warm skin. Instead, he tucked his hands behind his back, and rocked back on his heels, “Well, if you ever need any help burning down buildings, I’m your man.”
“Thank you for the offer, but I prefer not to associate myself with criminals,” she responded, her words a slap in the face, “People like you are better suited to work in the gardens, grow the flowers and make the world a more beautiful place.” She reached out, her fingers trailing across the delicate petals of a nearby rose, “You do have a talent for bringing life to things, even the most hopeless of causes, after all.”
“The world is a beautiful place, a fact I am reminded of every time I get to see you,” he said, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.
“If the world is such a beautiful place, then why do we hide out here in the shadows like a pair of criminals?”
“Give me time, and I’ll give you a reason to be proud of me. Then we’ll both be able to walk freely in the sun.”
She smiled at his words, her eyes dancing with laughter. “You really believe that? That love can overcome all?”
“No, I don’t believe in love. I believe in us.”
“That’s quite presumptuous of you. There are many other options for the future Duchess, some that don’t involve a lowly gardener,” Her words were meant to sting, but they fell flat as she reached out to stroke his face, “The gap between us is so large you couldn’t jump over it with ten horses,” she said again, pushing him down onto the grass and straddling his hips.
“A gap is not a chasm, and distance is merely a matter of perspective. Besides, there are worse fates than being caught in the arms of the woman I love.”
She shook her head, her lips brushing his in a sweet, fleeting kiss, “You are such an incurable romantic.”
“Only with you,” he murmured, pulling her against him and covering her lips with his own.
She could feel his arousal through his trousers and smiled, “Do you enjoy being beneath me, that much?”
His hands found their way under her dress, caressing her smooth thighs,”I remember it the other way around.”
She pulled at his cheek, forcing him to look her in the eyes, “An insolent little rat you are.”
He smiled, his golden eyes shining with mirth. “Aren’t you happy to see me, Celine?”
Her smile was positively wicked, “Not as much as you are.”
“What do you think would happen if someone were to find us like this?” he asked, his lips hovering above hers. They never kissed in the open. Their previous encounters had been done in secret, in dark places where no one could discover them.
“They’d accuse you of defiling me, and you’d probably be hung for it.”
“And what would happen to you, My Lady?”
“My reputation would be ruined,” she said simply, “I’d probably have to marry some old goat who is thrice my age. It’d be a scandal, a stain on the Rochefort’s name.”
“We don’t want that, do we? Let’s stop here,” he said, pulling away, though his body protested. He placed his hands on her waist and gently moved her off his lap, hiding her among the tall hedges.
She watched him curiously as he adjusted her clothes, poking the pitched tent in his trousers with her dainty finger, “It’s a pity that I can’t check if you are still a virgin. I bet you have defiled a few girls during my absence.”
“I have not!” he replied indignantly, “I’m saving myself for the woman I love.”
She raised an eyebrow, her gaze moving downwards to his groin, then back up to his face, “Really? Are you saying you haven’t bedded any women since our last meeting?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Are you sure? It’s been a year,” she pointed out, “I wouldn’t blame you if you had found some girl to scratch your itch.”
His cheeks colored a pretty shade of pink, easily flustered by her blunt words, “I can control my urges, unlike some people.”
“Oh?” she smirked, “Want to see for yourself if I still am?”
“Celine, be patient,” he replied, his voice strained, “Once I am able to earn a respectable position, I’ll make you mine. I promise. A knight, a count, even a duke. Whatever title I have to attain, I will get it. For us.”
She looked away, a shadow falling over her face, doubting his words in silence.
Every time lady Celine returned for the holidays, it was a happy occasion, a chance for Lucian and her to meet and reconnect.
Everything he did was with the goal of being with her. He had worked himself to the bone, tirelessly, doing everything in his power to rise above his humble beginnings, all for her.
She taught him how to read, and he studied during the night until his eyes hurt, reading the books she had lent him. He sneaked into the guard’s barracks to learn how to wield a weapon.
All this was with the hope of one day being worthy enough to stand by her side.
His parents had passed away when he was young, leaving him orphaned, alone, and starving. He had grown up on the streets, selling flowers and whatever else he could get his hands on.
Then, he met her, a little girl who dropped a pile of drawings before him. The daughter of the most powerful man in the dukedom had her allowance taken away, and wouldn’t get it back unless she learned the vocabulary of the foreign language she had been studying.
At the tender age of eight, Celine Rochefort had managed to convince Lucian to sell her art, telling him he’d be a fool to turn down the opportunity of selling a painting made by a Rochefort.
It spreaded quickly through the lower levels of the dukedom. The paintings fetched a pretty penny, and people started to come looking for him, offering him coins, food, anything they could spare in exchange for one of Celine’s drawings.
Unfortunately, the duke found out about her scheme and her first stream of income became the family’s business. She got back her allowance, but lost a friend in the process.
Her schedule became packed. From the moment she woke up until the time she went to sleep, every second of her life was planned.
Lucian was too young to land a job at their estate, so he had to do the next best thing: make a name for himself as the best gardener.
As his fame grew, and the gardens he took care of became more elaborate and beautiful, the higher class started to take notice.
Eventually, the duke’s estate was added to the list of places he had tended to.
And it was there that he had been reunited with Celine.
He had seen her a few times while he worked in the garden, and his heart had leaped every time he had spotted her. She had matured since their last encounter, and had developed an attitude that was very becoming of her.
“You’ve never learned etiquette, yet you have become so refined and elegant,” she told him, a small smile playing on her lips.
“It is the company I keep. Your grace has rubbed off on me.”
“Is that so?” she laughed, “I have been trying to rub on you for years.”
He flushed bright red at her innuendo. She had always been a naughty girl, “Celine.”
She looked away, her smile fading, “Well, it’s about time we end this charade, don’t you think so? Our acting is great, but we shouldn’t abuse our luck.”
“Celine?” he called out, worried by the sudden change in her demeanor.
“It’s getting annoying,” she said, turning her head and looking him directly in the eyes, “Practicing my seduction techniques on you was fun, but I’ll need to use them on another man soon. You’re not actually supposed to believe there’s anything between us. How delusional can you be, honestly.”
His mind was unable to comprehend what he had just heard, “W-what?”
“You are not the only one with plans for the future,” she told him, her words sharp and precise, like daggers thrown his way, “I can’t let my father’s power and connections go to waste, can I? I have a lot to gain if I marry the right man, and a lot to lose if I marry the wrong one.”
“But you said─”
“I lied.”
He had spent years dreaming of a future where they were together, and in a few seconds, those dreams had crumbled to dust.
“This must be a joke,” he said, forcing a smile on his lips, “Is someone threatening you? Is something forcing you to say these things?”
“No,” she replied simply, standing up and brushing the dirt off her dress, “I’ve always been a liar. You’ve always been the idiot that believed everything I told you.”
“Celine,” he whispered, taking a step closer to her.
“Don’t touch me!” She shook his hand off her. “Guards! Guards!” she screamed, her piercing voice ringing through the garden.
“Celine!” Lucian called out, catching her by the wrist and spinning her around to face him, “Please, stop scaring me,” he begged, bringing her palm to his cheek, he pressed it there, “What’s wrong?”
The look she gave him was one of disgust, her blue eyes as cold and unfeeling as ice, “Don’t touch me, you lowlife!”
He flinched as if her words were physical blows. He got on his knees, his eyes were red-rimmed, his face a mask of grief and despair, “Celine, please. Don’t do this to me.” When she turned around as if leaving him for good, he clutched onto her ankle, his grip bruising, “Celine,” he whispered her name like a prayer, “I can’t live without y─ugh!”
He felt a sharp pain as her shoe came down on his head, her heel digging into his skull. He could hear her screaming, catching everyone’s attention, “Filthy peasant. I told you not to touch me!”
A pair of guards hurried over, taking hold of his arms and yanking him off her.
The blood on his forehead had turned his blond hair crimson, the crimson liquid trickling down his face like tears.
His golden eyes, now dull and lifeless, stared blankly at Celine, as if seeing her for the first time.
