Page 29 of The SEAL's Duchess
She nodded, willing herself to keep breathing while fireworks burst under her skin.
Five minutes later, Ryder killed the engine. Quiet rushed in, sudden and absolute. “Stay there.”
He was out of the cab in one athletic swing, boots crunching through snow as he rounded the hood. Her pulse kicked as he opened her door. His hands spanned her waist easily, lifting her down as though she weighed nothing. Her stomach swooped as if the ground had dropped out, leaving her suspended on nothing but his grip.
His palms slid slowly from her waist upward as her feet touched the ground.
For a heartbeat, they didn’t move. Her hands pressed to his chest, his fingers still curved around her ribs.
“I can manage…” The words came out weak, more plea than protest.
“I know.” His thumb brushed her side, light as a whisper. “Let me.”
Her pulse thundered. Then his hand came higher, tucking an escaped strand of hair behind her ear. For a moment, the world narrowed to the space between them.
“This way.” Ryder stepped back, taking the coffee and sandwiches from her hands as if it were second nature.
She shook her head, heart still racing, and took a deep breath.What the hell was that?
“Ivy?” He glanced over his shoulder.
She lifted a hand. “Coming.”
He led her through the trees to the cliff edge where the path zig-zagged down through pines. A low roar grew with every step until it seemed to thunder in her chest. The air sharpened—pine and cold metal—so clean it almost hurt to breathe.
By the time they rounded the bend, her lungs burned with exertion. Or maybe it was anticipation. Following him felt foreign—and impossibly right. She’d spent her life leading, deciding, bearing everyone else’s expectations. Here, she simply trusted where he was taking her.
They turned the corner—and her breath snagged.
Water hurled itself off an enormous cliff in a silver sheet, smashing into the pool below with a sound that swallowed thought. Mist rose, clinging cool and damp to her cheeks, while snow-heavy branches arched above like the silvered rafters of some ancient cathedral.
“Oh…” The crashing water swallowed her voice. “It’s—” She shook her head, laughing helplessly as she turned a slow circle of awe. “It’s unreal.”
Ryder grinned. “Welcome to Alaska.”
They settled on a fallen log near the pool’s edge, close enough to feel the mist on their faces. Ryder unwrapped the sandwiches thick with ham and sharp cheddar, handed her one, and poured coffee from Louisa’s flask. She bit in, savoring the taste.
The roar of the waterfall’s cascade cocooned them, drowning out everything else. No traffic, no phones, no demanding voices.
Just this. Just them.
Everything else, she pushed it all away. For once in her life, she was going to let herself be small. Not responsible for fixing everything or carrying the weight of other people’s livelihoods. Here, hidden in these ancient trees with Ryder at her side, she could simply be.
“Can I ask you something?” Ryder’s voice was pitched low, almost lost in the cacophony.
She looked over to find him studying her with those calm blue eyes. “Of course.”
“Be straight with me. Why’d you really come to Alaska?”
She could give him the easy answer—contracts, finances, estate. But his attention was so absolute, the truth cracked free before she could stop it.
“I’ve never let anyone take care of me,” she said, her words trembling. “Not once. Since I was young, it’s been decisions, responsibility, holding everything together. Magnify that by ten once my parents passed. I don’t even remember what it feels like not to be responsible for everything.”
Ryder nodded, as if it made perfect sense. “This place—” He gestured at the falls. “I started bringing Ellie here when she was tiny, tied to my chest. Just the two of us.” He exhaled and scratched at the dirt with a stick.
No mention of Ellie’s mum, but she didn’t want to pry.
His gaze lifted to the spray. “And before Ellie, after deployments, when everything felt too loud, too complicated—this was the only place bigger than the noise.”
