Crimson & Clover

Ah, now I don’t hardly know her
But I think I could love her
Crimson and clover
Ah, when she comes walking over
Now I’ve been waitin’ to show her
Crimson and clover
Over and over

Royal Cromwell Stables, Henfordshire

The rhythmic cadence of hooves echoed across the outdoor training grounds, a perfect harmony of power and control. Argenta, Vivienne’s sleek dapple-gray mare, shimmered under the morning sun as she transitioned smoothly through an extended trot. By the fence, Liam stood with his arms crossed, his voice cutting through the cool air with a mix of firm direction and unfiltered pride.

“Keep her rhythm steady—yes, that’s it!” he called, his tone authoritative yet supportive. “Now into the piaffe—lift, lift! Beautiful! Let her dance, Viv.”

Vivienne, her hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, kept her focus entirely on Argenta. She adjusted her reins subtly, guiding the mare into an elegant piaffe, the movement controlled and rhythmic as if Argenta herself were performing a graceful ballet. As they transitioned back into a collected canter, Vivienne’s lips curved into a satisfied smile, her confidence unmistakable.

“Textbook, Viv! Absolutely spot-on!” Liam’s grin stretched wide as he clapped his hands together.

Guiding Argenta toward the edge of the training area, Vivienne slid from the saddle with practiced ease. Her face glowed with exertion, her cheeks flushed from the crisp morning air and the satisfaction of their session. Approaching Liam, she smacked her hand into his for a celebratory high five. “Not too shabby, huh?” she teased, her tone light and playful.

“Not too shabby at all,” he replied, his voice warm. His gaze lingered on her for just a fraction longer than usual before he cleared his throat and turned back to Argenta. “And this beauty? Make sure she gets an extra helping of carrots tonight—she’s been a star.”

“And what about me?” Vivienne quipped with mock indignation, a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. “I worked hard too.”

“You get extra carrots too,” Liam shot back with a teasing grin. “Maybe even an apple if you’re good.”

*Lingering Glances*

The morning mist hung over the stables, clinging to the fields like a ghostly veil. The air was crisp, carrying the faint sounds of hooves and distant bird calls. Roland Hawthorne leaned against the stable doorframe, quietly observing the scene in front of him.

Liam crouched beside Vivienne, adjusting the stirrups on her saddle with quick, practiced hands, while she steadied Argenta with a soft, reassuring touch. Their conversation was low, interspersed with gentle laughter that danced lightly on the morning air.

As Vivienne mounted Argenta, she glanced down at Liam with a warm, appreciative expression. Their eyes met, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. An unspoken connection passed between them, a delicate tension that neither acknowledged aloud. Vivienne gave him a shy wave paired with a playful smile before guiding Argenta forward, her posture poised as she transitioned the mare into a smooth collected trot.

Liam stood back, his arms crossed, his gaze lingering on her as she worked through a precise sequence of dressage movements. Roland, having witnessed the entire exchange, ambled over with an amused smile tugging at his lips.

“You two make a fine couple,” Roland remarked casually as he approached.

“Dad,” Liam groaned, exasperation clear in his voice. “We’re just friends. Neighbors. Co-workers. Neither she nor I are interested in a relationship. After the whole Maeve ordeal, I’m not even thinking about that. Not for a long time. I like my freedom—no drama, no girlfriend to worry about.”

Roland chuckled, clapping his son on the back as he passed. “Sure, son. Sure you do.”

*Girl Triumphant*

The crowd erupted into thunderous applause as Vivienne guided Argenta through the final piaffe, the mare’s movements a seamless dance of precision and grace. The judges’ bell chimed, signaling the end of the performance, and Vivienne gave Argenta’s neck a gentle pat, murmuring a quiet “Good girl.” Relief and exhilaration flooded her chest as she steered the mare out of the arena, her heart pounding like a drumbeat of triumph. She had done it—her very first dressage performance.

The announcer’s voice crackled over the speakers, bringing the lively chatter of the audience to a hush. “Ladies and gentlemen, what an extraordinary showcase of talent we’ve witnessed here today. And now, the results for the introductory division.”

Vivienne slid from the saddle, handing Argenta off to a groom with a lingering stroke down the mare’s silvery flank. She stood with the other riders along the edge of the arena, her gloves clenched tightly in her hands. Trainers and families clustered nearby, but Vivienne had chosen to compete as simply herself—no fanfare, no royal titles. Just Vivienne Grace Cromwell.

“In third place…” The announcer’s deliberate pause seemed to stretch endlessly. Vivienne’s breath caught. “… Vivienne Grace Cromwell!”

The crowd erupted anew, the sound reverberating through the grounds. For a moment, Vivienne stood rooted to the spot, as if the words hadn’t fully registered. Then, as the cheers swelled, she broke into a brilliant smile and instinctively turned to the sidelines. There stood Liam, clapping with unrestrained enthusiasm, his grin impossibly wide. She waved to him, her excitement mirrored in his expression.

Vivienne made her way to the podium, her helmet tucked neatly under one arm. Her boots clicked smartly against the wooden steps as she ascended to her place. When the third-place trophy was handed to her—a gleaming testament to her effort and courage—she held it high, earning another roar of applause from the crowd. The weight of the small trophy in her hands was grounding; a physical reminder of the leaps—literal and metaphorical—she had taken to get to this moment.

As the ceremony concluded, Vivienne didn’t bother descending the steps gracefully. Instead, she hopped down and sprinted straight toward Liam, her joy bubbling over.

“You did it, Viv!” Liam called, catching her mid-leap as she flung her arms around his neck. He laughed, spinning her in a jubilant circle. The trophy in her hand gleamed as it caught the sunlight, and for a moment, it felt as though time stilled around them.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” Vivienne said, her voice breathless and full of sincerity. She rested her forehead against his, the weight of her gratitude as tangible as the trophy in her grip.

As they stood in their little bubble of celebration, a passing stranger chuckled. “Lovely couple,” the man remarked with a wink, but neither Vivienne nor Liam seemed to notice, too wrapped up in the glow of the moment.

Vivienne stepped back slightly, her cheeks flushed with excitement. She held up the trophy with pride, the sunlight catching on its polished surface. “We need to celebrate later,” she declared, her tone bubbling with determination. “We won this. All three of us.”

“First Argenta gets her well-earned share of apples,” Liam replied with a grin. “Then we toast to your incredible victory. But let’s be clear, Viv—you won this.”

Vivienne shook her head, her smile softening as she met his gaze. “No, Liam. We won this. You, me, and Argenta. None of us could have done it alone.”

The words hung between them, warm and resolute, as they stood together on the edge of a moment that was theirs alone.

*Family Affair*

The next day, in the golden glow of late afternoon, shafts of sunlight spilled through the stables’s wide open doors, casting warm patterns on the straw-strewn floor. The earthy scent of hay mingled with the faint musk of horses, creating a comforting stillness in the air. Liam and Vivienne stood in the far corner, leaning slightly toward one another as they discussed the previous day’s competition.

Liam’s arm was propped against the wall, his posture relaxed, though his bright gaze was intently focused on Vivienne. She leaned casually against the rough wood, her arms crossed, her lips curving into a quick smile as they exchanged opinions. Their conversation was punctuated by easy laughter, the kind that softened the edges of the world around them. There was a subtle energy between them, like an unspoken understanding that needed no words.

The moment was interrupted by the sound of a voice—rich, commanding, and unmistakably familiar.

“Vivienne!”

Vivienne turned, her hair catching the sunlight as her face lit up in recognition. Her grandmother swept into the stables with the graceful confidence of someone who had spent decades commanding a stage. Even at seventy, Vivien Cameron was a magnetic presence. Her silvery-black hair was styled in a flawless updo, accentuating her high cheekbones and striking green eyes, which sparkled with life. She wore tailored trousers and a flowing cream blouse, effortlessly chic, a nod to the glamour of her younger years. Her light complexion seemed to glow in the soft afternoon light, every inch of her exuding sophistication and timeless beauty.

Trailing just a step behind her, Liam Cameron made his entrance. He was every bit the polished counterpart to his wife, his tall, athletic frame suggesting years of diligent care and discipline. His dark brown hair was peppered with distinguished streaks of gray, and his piercing green eyes glinted with a mix of amusement and warmth. Dressed in a crisp blazer and slacks, he radiated the composed authority of someone who had spent his career navigating the complex world of VIP law with grace and precision. Together, they looked like royalty in their own right, a living testament to shared triumphs and enduring love.

“Oh my God, Grandma, Grandpa!” Vivienne squealed, breaking away from Liam and rushing to meet them. She wrapped her arms around her grandmother, who laughed, the sound melodic and rich. The faint scent of her signature perfume—a blend of jasmine and amber—lingered in the air as they embraced.

“We thought we’d surprise you and your siblings,” her grandfather said with a playful wink, his deep baritone voice tinged with affection as Vivienne turned to hug him. “At least the ones who haven’t run off to chase their own adventures yet. We’re planning to swing by Windenburg after this to see Victoria and her husband.”

His sharp gaze shifted to Liam Hawthorne, who stood a few paces away, watching the scene unfold with polite curiosity. Vivienne noticed the glance and moved quickly to make introductions. “And this is Liam Hawthorne, the new Stablemaster.”

Vivien raised an arched brow, an expression of intrigue crossing her elegant features.

Liam Cameron let out a booming laugh as he extended his hand. “No shit!” he declared, gripping Liam Hawthorne’s hand in a firm shake.

Liam Hawthorne blinked in surprise, glancing between the two amused Camerons. “What’s so funny about my name?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly in confusion.

Vivien, still laughing, gestured between herself and her husband. “Well, his name is Liam, and I’m Vivien. Seems like fate decided to give us Viv and Liam: The Sequel.”

Liam Hawthorne stared for a moment, processing the odd coincidence, before breaking into a sheepish laugh. “Oh, well, that’s… actually really funny,” he said, the corners of his mouth lifting in a grin.

Liam Cameron clapped him on the shoulder, his touch both hearty and reassuring. “Welcome to the crazy club, son. I’ll warn you, though—it’s not easy dating a Cameron,” he motioned to his wife, “I would know. I have been married to one for more decades than I care to admit, loved her even longer and worse yet, I am also a Cameron by birth, obviously a different branch! We’re crazy but not THAT crazy.”

The group erupted into laughter, their joy filling the stables and spilling into the surrounding fields. Vivien leaned closer to her granddaughter, her voice low but deliberate. “He’s handsome,” she said, her tone conspiratorial, casting an approving glance at Liam Hawthorne. Vivienne’s cheeks turned pink as she quickly whispered back, “Grandma, he’s just a colleague. A neighbor. I work and live here now. I know Mom has told you, she tells you and grandpa everything.”

Vivien’s green eyes narrowed slightly, playful mischief dancing in them. “Of course we know, why do you think we are here? We’re not clairvoyant. But I gotta say your cute neighbor here, he looks familiar.”

“Oh, right,” Vivienne began hesitantly, “yes, you might have seen him before. He was a Royal Guard for a while after Victoria’s abduction, but Dad discharged him honorably. He and Vic were … good friends before. REALLY long story.”

Vivien tilted her head, recognition dawning. “Oh yes, I remember him now. He was running around with Victoria some years ago until Hendrik came along. That’s right—Victoria and Liam. Could have sworn she introduced him with another last name. Odd. My memory’s usually sharp.”

“Your memory is fine,” Vivienne reassured her, though her voice grew quieter. “Yes, Vic and Liam were friendly before, after her abduction he joined the Royal Guard, but Papa eventually dismissed him honorably and Liam was a Lord Kensington for some years, but recently handed over the title and estate to Jake and his wife, Claire, who is actually Liam’s older half-sister and he changed his name back to Hawthorne, since he grew up here at the stables as a stableboy. Very convoluted story…”

Vivienne trailed off, realizing she’d said too much. Vivien’s sharp mind instantly connected the dots. “I’ll say! Wait, did you say Jake? As in my nephew Jake? Gavin’s Jake? This Liam is Claire’s brother?! Oh, for heaven’s sake, this is Maeve’s ex?” Vivien threw her hands up in exasperation. “Goodness gracious, Maeve’s been making the rounds sobbing about how she was done wrong by her ex-fiancé. I just let her ramble on until your name came up and we’re not having that, she can bitch and moan all she wants but not bring my children or grandchildren into it starting vile rumors about my family, so I might have even told her to suck it up in a not so pleasant manner, you know how I get when people harp. So, it’s true then? Oh, Vivienne, he’s cute, but a bit of a wandering trophy, don’t you think? Hope he’s worth all that.”

“Grandma!” Vivienne hissed, mortified. “Shhh! He could hear you!”

Vivien waved a hand dismissively. “Not a chance. Your grandfather’s hearing isn’t what it used to be, so his voice got louder. With my Liam talking, your Liam hears only him and a distinct ringing in his ears for a couple hours after. Look honey, if it weren’t for the Maeve-mess, I’d wholeheartedly support this for novelty alone. Hell, I still might, if only to annoy my little brother and his spoiled brat of a daughter, I love my niece, but Maeve takes a bit too much after her dingbat mother Bianca for my taste. I don’t think Gavin and his idiot wife can do much about it, sounds like their son still likes your Liam enough, seeing how he’s his brother-in-law. Goodness gracious, island living for you. Everyone ends up related to one another eventually. Then again, who am I to talk. I have been married to my second cousin for more decades than I care to admit.”

The two Liams burst into laughter at something entirely unrelated, the younger one blushing under the weight of the older one’s teasing, which only made Vivien smirk even more. “Looks like your Liam passed my Liam’s scrutiny,” she told Vivienne with lowered voice. “Grandma! He is not ‘my’ Liam!” which was met by a clear glare of disbelief “Oh, we’re still in denial, are we. Oh baby, I have been there, and let me tell you, it’s pointless. I was in denial about my Liam and two children and five grandchildren later, I would say get over whatever is holding you back and enjoy the ride. It’s worth it.” she winked.

As the laughter subsided, Liam Cameron extended an invitation. “Dinner at the palace tonight. Both of you come on, it’s a casual affair as I told Max I am not flying all this way to be uncomfortable in a penguin suit, so he told me family only and polo shirt and slacks will do. Come join us, Liam. It’s been far too long since we’ve had interesting company at the table.”

Vivienne beamed, though she glanced toward Liam Hawthorne for his response. He met her eyes, holding her gaze just long enough to convey a silent plea with a faint headshake—not to press the matter, not to argue. Understanding the unspoken message, she gave the faintest nod, her expression softening with quiet agreement.

He shook his head with a polite smile. “Thank you, sir, ma’am, very kind of you, but I’ve got work here that can’t wait. I really need to finish up. The Stablemaster can’t just disappear as he pleases.”

Vivienne climbed into the Land Rover with her grandparents, her laughter still echoing softly in the distance. Waving through the window as they drove off, her smile lingered, warm and content, long after the vehicle disappeared down the gravel road.

*Meadow Dreams*

The sun rose higher in the sky, casting a warm golden glow over the fields surrounding the stable. The summer air smelled of freshly cut grass and wildflowers, a scent so quintessentially Henfordshire that it seemed almost magical. Everything seemed hushed as it was Sunday, only the distant church bells down in Henford-on-Bagley interrupted. Vivienne heaved a bucket of brushes into the storage bin, wiping her forehead with the back of her hand as Argenta gave a soft snort behind her.

“Well, that’s the last of it,” she said, stretching with a satisfied sigh. “What’s next, boss?”

Liam, leaning against the stable door, grinned. “If I’m the boss, does that mean I get to order you around?” he teased, brushing a stray wisp of hay from his shirt.

Vivienne rolled her eyes, grabbing a nearby rag and tossing it at him. “Dream on, Hawthorne.”

As he caught the rag, he tilted his head toward the open fields. “It’s too nice a day to waste indoors. What do you say we go exercise some of the horses that haven’t been ridden in a while? Crimson needs some good galloping, Clover too before she is sent off to her new home. Combine it with a little well-deserved break for us… I don’t know, frolic in the countryside or something?”

“Frolic? And on Crimson and Clover? If I didn’t know we had two horses stabled by that name I would think you are messing with me,” Vivienne repeated, an amused smile creeping onto her face.

“I am dead serious,” Liam replied, pushing off the doorframe. “Combine business with pleasure. The horses need to be exercised. Pack a picnic; we can have lunch al fresco, maybe accidentally fall into a stream to cool off. So best wear your swimsuit when you go change, cos no offense Princess, but you reek of horse apples and I won’t be seen with you like that. So, let’s get, Henfordshire summer activities highlight reel classics await. That’s an order!”

Vivienne laughed. “An order? That will be the day that I am taking orders from you. Alright, fine. But if we’re ‘frolicking’ and ‘picnicking’ out there on Crimson and Clover, I get to pick the snacks—and you’re carrying them.”

“That is not a way to speak to your boss. I might have to call you into my office and write you up, young lady.”

“You are a boss, but not my boss.”

“Your attitude keeps getting worse!”

“That’s probably because you are the boss around the stables, but my parents own them, so I think I still outrank you, ‘bossman’. So, go do as told. Shoo.”

“Ouch! That is not a very regal way to speak to someone, princess. I am appalled.”

“Yeah, that’s mostly because I am not a real princess. I got the fire from both sides, genetically. And my bio-dad taught me to shoot a gun. So, careful whom you pick your battles with.”

“What good does knowing how to shoot do you if you don’t even own a gun? So, empty threat or are you saying you’ll pull a Maeve and lay me out after a kick to the ding-dong and a punch in the gut?”

“Keep going and you’ll find out.” She playfully ‘threatened’, while pretending to right-hook him.

Liam dramatically stumbled backwards against the stable wall, clutching his chest as if mortally wounded. “Oh no! You got me! Farewell world,” he exclaimed in an overly theatrical voice as he sunk to his knees until Vivienne reached out a hand to pull him back up again, shoving him slightly.

Vivienne burst into laughter. “You’re such a dork!”

“Excuse me,” Liam said with a grin, “that is ‘boss dork’ to you.”

Half an hour later, they were off, weaving through meadows on horseback, laughing about anything and everything. The island kingdom of Henfordshire stretched out before them like a postcard, with rolling hills, stone walls, and bursts of wildflowers lining their path.

Vivienne spotted a patch of purple heather near the crest of a hill and directed her horse to make a beeline for it. Liam, not one to be outdone, urged his horse to overtake her. She blocked him keeping her advantage not letting him pass. He grinned as they approached a small creek, Vivienne rode around it, while he decided to jump it. His horse cleared the creek effortlessly, and he called back “See you there, loser!”

Vivienne finally caught up with him, sliding down from her saddle with practiced ease. The fire in her eyes was evident as she marched toward Liam, her boots kicking up small clouds of dust.

“That was too dangerous!” she scolded, her voice sharp and brimming with concern. “The horse could have slipped and hurt itself. Or you! We don’t need two stablemasters who can’t work due to health reasons!”

Liam turned to face her, his expression relaxed, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. He waved off her concern with a casual gesture, his confidence unshaken. “I’m no rookie, Viv. Perfectly safe!”

“Perfectly delusional is what you are!” Vivienne shot back, rolling her eyes so dramatically that he chuckled under his breath. Her exasperation was palpable as she let out a huff and moved toward the tree to get the picnic set up, shaking her head, while Liam unsaddled and led the horses to a nearby stream to let them drink and cool off,

After ensuring the horses were comfortable, both of them happily playing in the water, Liam and Vivienne took the hint and joined the equines. In their swimwear now, both splashed around in the stream, laughing and playfully spraying water at each other. The cool water was refreshing under the warm summer sun, and their laughter echoed through the countryside.

Once they had enough of the water play, they returned to their picnic spot, just towels wrapped around themselves over their swimwear. The summer sunbathed the Henfordshire countryside in a golden glow as they found a shady spot beneath a towering oak tree. The picnic basket between them was packed with fresh bread, cheeses, and other makings for sandwiches as well as a selection of fruit, bottled water and even a bottle of wine. Vivienne perched cross-legged, sorting through the ingredients while Liam surveyed the options with a mischievous glint in his eye.

“You’re not seriously putting that together, are you?” Vivienne asked, her nose wrinkling in disbelief as Liam stacked an unusual combination of ingredients on his bread—sharp cheddar, strawberry jam, and two slices of crispy bacon. “Are you pregnant?!”

Liam grinned, unbothered by her judgment. “Not far as I know. And what? You’ve never tried this? You have not lived!”

“Um, eew, no, because I have functional tastebuds,” she quipped, raising an eyebrow.

He smirked, holding up the unconventional creation like it was a masterpiece. “Hmmm… yummmm,” he exaggerated, taking an overly dramatic bite and chewing with a look of exaggerated bliss. “You have no idea what you’re missing. Here, try it!” he held the sandwich out to her.

“Oh, please! That belongs in the trash,” she scoffed, lunging forward to snatch it from his hands. “Give me that!”

Before he could stop her, she darted to her feet and bolted toward the open field, the sandwich clutched in one hand. Liam’s shout of protest quickly turned into laughter as he jumped up and gave chase.

“Viv, get back here! I am starving now and getting hangrier by the minute,” he called, hot on her heels.

“I have to save your dignity! And your health and whatever is left of your tastebuds,” she teased, glancing back at him with a triumphant grin.

He closed the gap quickly, his longer strides catching her just as they reached the crest of a hill. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her off balance as they both tumbled into the soft grass. Their laughter rang out across the countryside, carefree and uninhibited as Liam gave them a push and both started rolling downhill, wheezing for laughter.

As they rolled to a stop, Vivienne’s knee accidentally connected with Liam’s groin, and his laughter turned into a sharp groan. He curled onto his side, holding his stomach as Vivienne froze, horrified.

“Oh no! Liam, I didn’t mean to—are you okay? OMG no, not that now,” she asked, leaning down in concern, still clutching the sandwich.

Before she could say more, Liam suddenly lunged forward and took a huge bite out of the sandwich in her hand, staring at her with big cheeks while munching on his giant bite. The look of indignation on her face as she realized he was mostly faking his injury was priceless.

“You are impossible!” she exclaimed, smacking his shoulder as he chewed with a victorious grin.

“And I won,” he said, laughing as he nudged her hand that was still holding what remained of his bizarre creation. “Now you have to try it. I dare you.”

She hesitated, eyeing the messy sandwich with suspicion. But under his expectant gaze, she finally took a bite. Her expression shifted from wary to surprised as she chewed. “Okay… I hate to admit it, but it’s not terrible.”

With a smirk, clearly not believing her downplayed reaction, he raised his eyebrows. Giggling, she admitted, “Okay fine, it’s actually really good. Tastes like something my dad would eat. Jack, I mean, not the King.” He reached for his sandwich, but she pulled it away and took another big bite, smirking at him with big cheeks while chewing.

Liam leaned back on his elbows, looking smug. “See? Sometimes Liam knows best. You are welcome.”

“Don’t push it,” she replied with a smirk, though the warmth in her voice betrayed her playful tone. After she finished his sandwich, they walked back to the picnic basket just in time to shoo the horses away from it. All the packed bread had vanished, along with the strawberries and apples.

“Great. So, what are you going to make me to eat now, seeing how you ate MY ‘disgusting’ sandwich?” Liam laughed, plopping down while Vivienne was still assessing the damage.

“Want a half-eaten apple with a little horse drool on it?” Vivienne teased, holding it out.

Liam took the offered apple, his nose wrinkling in mock disgust, and threw it in the general direction of the grazing horses. One of them immediately trotted over to claim the prize. “I think I’ve never had an entire apple. Either a horse steals it while I’m trying to eat it, or I go weak and just give it up after one bite because some horse gives me those irresistible puppy-dog eyes,” he said with a shrug.

Vivienne turned toward him with a mischievous grin, something hidden behind her back. Without warning, she crawled over to him, her grin widening as she pushed him backward into a reclining position. Liam went along with it, raising an eyebrow.

“Close your eyes,” Vivienne instructed.

“What is that?” Liam asked, suspicion creeping into his voice.

“Close your eyes and open your mouth. You trust me, right?” she said, her tone softening.

“Most of the time I trust you. Right now, though, I just know you’re gonna dump salt in my mouth or something to get back at me,” he countered, narrowing his eyes.

“Just trust me,” Vivienne insisted, her voice dropping to a gentle coax.

After a moment of hesitation, Liam sighed and reluctantly closed his eyes, opening his mouth. Vivienne carefully placed a small, delicate pastry between his lips. Liam’s eyes flew open in surprise as the rich, buttery layers and sweet filling hit his taste buds.

“What is this?” he mumbled around the bite, his eyes wide with astonishment.

“It’s a mille-feuille,” Vivienne said, smiling as she watched his reaction. “Something my Papa loves. Thought you might like it too.”

Liam chewed thoughtfully, savoring the flavors. “This is amazing! Tastes like I died and went to culinary heaven,” he said, his voice brimming with genuine appreciation. “I can’t believe you’re feeding me something so fancy that I can’t even pronounce.”

Vivienne’s fingers brushed his lips as she fed him another bite, her expression softening for a fleeting moment. The playful banter shifted as their eyes lingered on each other, the atmosphere growing tender. After a heartbeat, Vivienne broke the spell with a teasing grin.

“They’re incredible,” she said, holding up another square. “But so rich, I swear just one of these things has about five million calories.”

Liam smirked as he leaned back in his chair. “Oh, I get it now. That’s why you’re not eating them—just feeding them all to me so I end up fat and blobby, huh?”

“Exactly,” Vivienne replied, stuffing another bite into his mouth before he could argue. Her laughter bubbled up as she wagged a finger at him. “You’ve uncovered my completely nonsensical evil masterplan, devoid of any hint of rhyme or reason. Soon, I’ll have a blobby, immobile stablemaster because … reasons … MUAHAHA!” She added a dramatic flourish, twirling an invisible villainous mustache.

Liam laughed, nearly choking on his food as he shook his head. “You’re ridiculous,” he said, his grin wide and genuine. “But I hate to admit it—you’re kind of the best villain I’ve ever met.”

“Don’t you forget it,” she shot back, tossing him a playful wink as she reached for another piece to feed him.

“You know, Viv,” he said softly, his voice carrying a warmth that matched the golden light around them, “you’re full of surprises.”

She laughed lightly, her eyes sparkling with amusement. “And you’re just full of it most of the time,” she teased, rolling her eyes in mock exasperation.

They both laughed, the moment easing back into their usual playful banter, but the warmth lingered—a quiet reminder of the unexpected sweetness they shared.

When they were done eating, Vivienne glanced over at Liam, who was gazing out at the horizon with a contented expression. The soft light of the setting sun seemed to highlight every detail—the way his hair caught the breeze, the relaxed curve of his smile, the quiet strength in his posture.

Without overthinking it, Vivienne shifted closer and leaned her head against his shoulder. The gesture was simple, unspoken, but it carried a depth of trust and comfort. Liam didn’t move, letting the moment settle between them. His gaze remained on the horizon, though the faintest smile tugged at his lips.

“You’re not so bad,” she murmured, her voice teasing yet laced with quiet sincerity. After a moment, she added with a wry smile, “… for a man.”

Liam huffed a small laugh, shaking his head slightly. “Don’t let that get around,” he replied, his tone light but affectionate. “I’ve got a reputation to maintain.”

They sat like that for a while, the stillness around them amplifying the rustling leaves and the contented sounds of horses grazing nearby. The simplicity of the moment felt profound, as though time had slowed just for them. It was a rare pause in the chaos of their lives—a brief but perfect reprieve.

*Faceoff*

Liam stood in front of the hallway mirror, adjusting the collar of his stablemaster uniform—well-worn riding boots, dark trousers, a crisp white shirt rolled at the sleeves, and the forest-green waistcoat bearing the Hawthorne estate’s crest. His dark green eyes caught the light as they glanced up at his reflection, the color strikingly complementing the deep shade of his uniform. It was as though the uniform had been designed with him in mind, perfectly mirroring the intensity of his gaze. “Hmph,” he muttered under his breath, running a hand through his hair. “‘Hey, want to grab dinner?’ No, too casual. ‘Would you like to—’ Ugh, no.”

“Just ask her out already! Any which way will do, son,” came a voice from behind him.

Liam jumped, spinning around to see his dad leaning casually against the doorframe, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Daaaad!” Liam groaned, his face flushing as he rolled his eyes. “Why are you eavesdropping? Don’t you have anything better to do? You need a hobby.”

“I am plenty busy. All I’m saying,” Roland continued, ignoring the question, “is a girl like her won’t stay single for long. Better to get a no now than to wallow in regret forever.”

“Right, thanks for the pep talk,” Liam muttered, grabbing his cell phone. Roland stepped closer and adjusted the lapel of Liam’s waistcoat, brushing off an invisible speck of dust with a dad-like precision before patting Liam on the shoulder.

“You’ll thank me later, son,” Roland said with a wink.

Liam sighed. “Yeah. See you later, Dad.”

Downstairs, the stableyard was alive with activity, the morning sun casting long shadows across the cobblestones. Liam’s eyes immediately landed on Vivienne, who was standing near the paddock gate, talking to a young man he didn’t recognize. The guy stood out—his sharp features and confident posture were striking, and his mixed heritage gave him a unique look that set him apart from the usual Henfordshire crowd.

Liam felt a pang of something he didn’t want to name. Jealousy? No, that was ridiculous. He shook his head and focused on his work, grabbing a stack of training blankets and heading toward the tack room. But his gaze kept drifting back to them. The way the guy leaned in, the way Vivienne’s smile seemed a little too polite—it gnawed at him.

Finally, when it looked like the guy was getting too close for comfort, Liam couldn’t help himself. He slammed the pile of blankets down on a bench and strode over, his boots crunching against the gravel.

“Everything alright here?” he asked, his tone casual but his eyes sharp.

Vivienne turned to him, her relief evident. “Oh, Liam…” she began, stepping toward him, but the guy shifted, blocking her path, which send up red flags with Liam.

“Who’s this?” Liam asked, his voice steady but laced with an edge.

“None of your business, that’s who,” the guy snapped. “Leave us. We’re talking.”

Liam’s jaw tightened. “I don’t think so. Vivienne, who is he?”

Vivienne hesitated, her eyes darting between them. “Liam, this is Ren. You know… Ren.”

The name hit Liam like a punch to the gut. Ren. The ex. The one who’d cheated on her and left her heartbroken. His eyes narrowed as he took a step closer. “Ah, I see. Viv, why don’t you come over here? I need help with the training blankets.”

“She’s busy now,” Ren said, his tone dismissive.

Liam’s patience snapped. “I wasn’t asking you. I wasn’t asking at all. Viv, come here please.”

The tension crackled between them, thick and suffocating. Ren’s expression darkened, and before anyone could react, he swung a fist at Liam. The punch connected with Liam’s jaw, sending him stumbling back a step. Vivienne screamed, her hands flying to her mouth, she tried to run to Liam, but Ren shoved her back.

That, and the pain only fueled Liam’s anger. He straightened, his eyes blazing, and with one calculated punch, he sent Ren sprawling to the ground. Vivienne ran to Liam, clutching his arm as Ren scrambled to his feet, his face a mix of fury and humiliation.

“Get in your car and leave, or there is more where that came from and you’ll end up having to be carried out,” Liam said, his voice low and dangerous. He stepped in front of Vivienne, shielding her as Ren spat out a string of curses. “Now. Viv enjoyed you stopping by, but like I said, she is busy now. Cheers mate!”

Ren glared at them, his chest heaving, but he finally turned and stalked to his rental car. As he drove off, he flipped them off through the window. Vivienne let out a shaky breath and threw herself against Liam, her arms wrapping tightly around him.

“Thank you for your help! Oh no, you’re bleeding,” she said, her voice trembling as she pulled back to look at his face, reaching out with shaky fingers, gently touching the skin near his busted lip.

“It’s nothing,” he replied, brushing it off.

“Come upstairs,” she insisted, taking his hand. “I’ll clean you up. Least I can do.”

He didn’t argue, letting her lead him to her apartment. Once inside, she directed him to the couch and disappeared into the bathroom, returning with a first-aid kit. Kneeling in front of him, she dabbed at his busted lip with a cotton pad, her touch gentle but firm.

“I am so sorry he did that. He’s never been aggressive before, he’s changed, I think, and not for the better. Then again, he cheated on me so, guess he changed a while back. You didn’t have to do that,” she said softly, her eyes focused on his injury.

“Yes, I did,” Liam replied, his voice low but steady. “He had no right to talk to you like that. And I am the stablemaster here, so this was my business.”

Their eyes met, and the air between them shifted. The tension from earlier melted into something warmer, something unspoken. Vivienne set the cotton pad aside, her hand lingering on his cheek, her touch soft and deliberate.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“For what?”

“For always being there when I need you most. It’s a rare trait, as I’ve had to learn the hard way.”

Before he could respond, she leaned in and kissed him. It was tentative at first, as though testing the waters. His lips responded softly against hers, but the sting from his busted lip made him twitch slightly. Vivienne immediately pulled back, her eyes wide with concern.

“Oh no, did I hurt you?” she asked, her voice full of regret.

Liam shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping despite the ache. “Not enough to stop me,” he murmured. Before she could say anything else, his hands found her waist, and with an easy motion, he pulled her into his lap.

Her breath hitched as she settled against him, her hands instinctively resting on his shoulders. He cupped her face gently, his thumb brushing her cheek as he leaned in, capturing her lips again. This time, the kiss was deeper, more deliberate, filled with all the emotions they’d been holding back. The slight sting of his lip was forgotten as he held her close, grounding them in the moment.

When they finally broke apart, their foreheads rested together, their breaths mingling in the quiet room. Liam’s lips curved into a small, lopsided smile. “I gotta say, your taste in men is almost as bad as my luck with women.”

Vivienne grinned, her fingers lightly tracing the edge of his jaw. “Well, at least both of those are improving now.”

*Busted*

A few mornings later, Roland Hawthorne, dressed and ready for stable duty as the Foalwarden, a newly created position in which he had found a new calling, one he enjoyed tremendously, he stood in the small kitchen of the two-bedroom apartment one of three staff quarters located above the stables. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the space, mingling with the soft creak of the wooden floorboards as he moved. He glanced at his wristwatch, his brow furrowing. Liam’s door was still closed. If his son had left early for an unscheduled start, he would’ve left the door ajar as usual. This only meant one thing: he’d overslept.

Roland set down his coffee mug with a sigh and made his way out of the kitchen, crossing the hall to Liam’s room. His knock was hearty but brief, as was his custom, before he pushed the door open without waiting for a response.

“Liam, you overslept, kiddo—OH!” The words barely left his mouth before he froze in the doorway, his eyes widening at the scene before him.

Vivienne stood in the middle of the room, clutching a throw blanket tightly around her, her hair a messy halo of tousled dark hair and her face flushed with embarrassment. Liam, equally disheveled, clearly naked as he held up a pillow in front of him, his expression a mixture of panic and mortification. The bed behind them was an untidy mass of crumpled sheets, leaving no room for misinterpretation.

“Dad!” Liam exclaimed, his voice breaking slightly as he scrambled to reposition the pillow. “Privacy! Ever heard of knocking?”

“I did knock,” Roland replied matter-of-factly, raising a brow. “And in my defense, I wasn’t expecting… this.” His gaze flicked pointedly between the two of them.

Vivienne groaned, burying her face into the blanket. “OMG, kill me now!”

Roland rubbed the back of his neck, clearly working hard to suppress a smirk. “Well,” he said slowly, his voice laced with dry humor, “it seems friendship sure has… evolved.”

“Dad, it’s not what it looks like!” Liam blurted out, clutching the pillow more securely.

“Oh, really?” Roland asked, leaning casually against the doorframe. “Because it looks an awful lot like I just walked into something from a comedy sketch. You might want to consider locking your door if you entertain a lady in your room. Just a thought.”

“Yeah, seriously, Liam?!” Vivienne hissed from behind the blanket, her glare sharp enough to cut through the awkwardness. “You think your dad is blind and daft? ‘Not what it looks like’—are you kidding me? This couldn’t be more what it looks like if there were a giant neon sign flashing above us, you absolute mega-dork!”

“What was I supposed to say?!” Liam shot back defensively. “Tada?!”

Roland chuckled, stepping back into the hallway with a shake of his head. “All right, carry on, you two. But guys—stable duty starts in fifteen minutes. I suggest you both get dressed. Coffee’s ready in the kitchen.”

As Roland poured himself another cup of coffee back in the kitchen, he shook his head, a grin tugging at his lips. The sound of muffled bickering filtered through the closed door, though it wasn’t long before the tension broke into shared laughter—echoing through the small space as if to underline the absurdity of it all.