The wind stirred the willows outside the Lockwood estate, and in the distance, the sound of horses echoed faintly down the long gravel road. You were barefoot in the garden again—your least ladylike habit, your mother would’ve scolded. But she wasn’t here. She hadn’t been for a long time.

Neither was the world watching.

But he was.

“Miss Lockwood,” came the familiar voice behind you—smooth, careful, amused.

You turned, already knowing. “Mr. Salvatore.”

Stefan stood there with his hands clasped behind his back, hair swept neatly and lips hiding a smile he didn’t quite want you to catch. He was dressed far too formally for a garden stroll, which meant he hadn’t come here for the flowers.

You gave a slight curtsy. “To what do I owe the honor?”

He looked around, slowly. “You do realize it’s unladylike to go wandering barefoot where snakes tend to linger?”

“You do realize it’s wildly inappropriate for a gentleman to follow a girl into her garden unchaperoned?” you shot back.

That smile you weren’t supposed to see? It bloomed now.

“And yet, here we are,” he said.

You crossed your arms, pretending the blush in your cheeks was from the sun.