Silent Crown: The Masked Prince's Bride-Chapter 288: He Caught Her, Again

"Leroy!"

Her cry vanished into the wind. Snow blinded her. The world tilted again... and then, suddenly, a force slammed into her.

Strong arms wrapped around her mid-fall, jerking her back against a solid chest. The air left her lungs with a startled gasp. They tumbled together a few feet down the slope, rolling through powder and ice until Leroy twisted his body to shield hers, taking the brunt of the fall.

When they stopped, the world went still again, just the soft whisper of snowfall and his ragged breathing in her ear.

He was panting, one hand gripping her tightly, the other braced in the snow beside her head. His hair was dusted white, a strand plastered to his cheek, covering the glowing birthmark of the flame.

"For the love of—Lorraine," he breathed, his voice caught somewhere between fury and relief. "Do you ever stay inside when I tell you to?"

Lorraine blinked up at him, her heart still hammering. "I was almost home," she said defensively. "And...well... it was a minor misstep—"

"Minor?" he cut her off, exhaling a cloud of steam. "You were about to fall off a mountain."

She hesitated, then gave a tiny shrug. "I’ve survived worse."

That earned her a sharp look, but his expression softened almost immediately. He glanced down, his hand brushing over her cloak, then over her stomach, gentle but trembling slightly. "You could have hurt yourself. Or the baby."

Her lips parted, and for once, she didn’t have a retort. The anger in his tone wasn’t anger at all; it was fear, naked and unguarded.

"I’m fine," she murmured, quieter now. "You caught me. Again."

His eyes flicked to hers, and for a moment, something flickered there, something that melted even the frozen air around them.

Then he groaned, letting his head drop against her shoulder. "You’re going to kill me one of these days," he muttered.

"Not before I kill myself, apparently," she teased softly, and he huffed a disbelieving laugh against her neck. He then bit her neck, slightly over her pulsing skin.

"Oww..." she gave an exaggerated shout. He breathed warm onto her neck and then placed a gentle kiss over where he bit her.

They stayed there for a while, tangled in snow and breath and heat, before he finally stood, scooping her up as if she weighed nothing.

"Come on," he said. "Before you decide to climb another cliff for fun."

"I wasn’t climbing, I was exploring," she corrected, wrapping her arms around his neck as he carried her back toward the faint smoke rising in the distance.

He glanced down at her, his mouth twitching. "If I tie you to the bedpost tomorrow, it’ll be exploration prevention."

"Try it," she said, smirking up at him. "And I’ll burn the rope."

"Then I’ll sit on you," he murmured dryly.

Lorraine laughed softly, the sound warming the frozen air. "You wouldn’t dare."

He looked down at her, eyes glinting with affection that outshone even the snow light. "Oh, Lorraine," he said quietly. "You have no idea what I’d dare for you."

And in the endless white of the mountain, that promise felt louder than the storm.

When he brought her home, the little cabin was already aglow with warmth. The fire burned steadily in the hearth, and steam curled softly from the bathtub. Leroy poured in another kettle of hot water, testing the temperature with the back of his hand.

"Perfect," he muttered under his breath.

Lorraine leaned against the doorframe, watching him with amusement. So he had been home early. And when he noticed she wasn’t there, instead of panicking or scolding her, he’d gone ahead and prepared a bath for her return.

Honestly, wasn’t he perfect?

Still, a part of her wondered—was he truly not surprised she had wandered off again? Or had he simply... expected it?

He didn’t seem angry or even particularly shocked. Of course, he didn’t. He knew her. He’d always known her—that she wasn’t built to sit quietly at home, waiting. That silence made her restless, and restlessness made her reckless. It was why he had come looking for her, every single time.

"How do you always appear when I need you?" she asked softly.

Her voice carried a trace of wonder that even she hadn’t meant to reveal. But it was true. Every time she had fallen, every time she had lost her way, he’d found her.

When she was courting death under the vyrnshade blossom shrub.

When she’d fallen from the window.

When she’d hidden away in the tunnels, convinced no one would want her.

When the mansion burned.

And now, when she nearly tumbled down a mountain.

He looked up from the tub and gave a small shrug, that half-smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "I told you," he said simply. "I’ll find you wherever you are."

The way he said it, so steady, so certain, made her heart flutter in a way the warmth of the fire couldn’t.

Honestly, he didn’t know how he did it either. It wasn’t instinct, or tracking skill, or luck. It was just her. Something in him always turned toward her, like a compass to the north.

Lorraine exhaled a long sigh. "You make it sound so easy," she murmured.

Before she could even reach for the ties of her cloak, Leroy was there, quietly, deliberately, his hands moving to help her. His fingers brushed the snow from her shoulders, then lingered longer than necessary against her skin. He pretended to be terribly serious about the task, jaw set, eyes lowered, as if it took deep concentration to unfasten a few layers of fabric.

Lorraine tilted her head, lips curving. "You’re being very diligent, husband," she teased.

He didn’t answer, though she saw the faintest twitch at the corner of his mouth. His fingertips slid over her arm and back as he freed the last clasp, and his voice came low, amused. "Just making sure you don’t slip again."

"Oh, of course," she said lightly. "A matter of safety."

When he lifted her into his arms, she didn’t protest; she just leaned against him, feeling the steady thud of his heart under her palm. His lips brushed over her forehead, steady and titillating. He set her down gently in the steaming bath, the water embracing her with warmth so perfect it drew an involuntary sigh from her lips.

Slowly, his hand trailed over her shoulder, down her collarbone and down her sternum. Just as his finger nestled in her cleavage, he looked at her with that annoying smirk she loved so much. She was blushing to her ears.

Pressing her lips, she looked at him.

What is he going to do next?