All Chapters of Chains Of The Heart: Chapter 31 - Chapter 40

In his assigned chamber—a refurbished wing that still smelled faintly of cedar and wine—Nathan sat at the writing desk and composed the letter in tight, elegant script:"I have arrived safely. The reception was warmer than expected.I will observe and listen, as you asked.There is one matter I must ask permission for—If circumstances allow, may I meet Rowan discreetly while I am here?I will not act without your word."—NHe sealed it with his own crest rather than his father’s and handed it to Silas, who had been standing watch in the doorway.Silas glanced at the seal, then at Nathan. “I’ll see that it reaches the king without delay.”Nathan hesitated a second. “…Thank you.”Silas nodded once, but his expression softened almost imperceptibly before he left down the corridor.Nathan exhaled slowly and sat back in the quiet, surrounded by the ghosts of a life that was no longer his—and ties he wasn’t yet ready to sever.Now, all that remained was Damian’s reply.Damian didn’t waste

Their mouths barely parted long enough to breathe before they were on each other again, hands moving with the kind of certainty that only comes from years of knowing and wanting.Nathan shoved Rowan’s coat down his arms, and Rowan yanked at the ties of Nathan’s shirt until the fabric slid off his shoulders. Nathan’s palms skimmed over Rowan’s chest, pushing his shirt open and down, baring warm skin and old scars. The shirts hit the floor without either of them noticing.Skin met skin—hot, familiar, and dizzying.Rowan pressed his forehead to Nathan’s for half a heartbeat, both of them panting, and then his hands were roaming again, skimming Nathan’s sides before slipping lower. Nathan’s breath caught—sharp, involuntary—when Rowan’s fingers dipped beneath the waist of his trousers, slow at first, then bolder when Nathan didn’t stop him.Rowan’s hand slid fully inside, warm against the heat of him, and Nathan’s knees nearly gave.A soft, strangled sound escaped him—half pleasure, half d

Damian didn’t wait for the gates to fully open.The Cross guards barely had time to scramble aside as his horse barreled through the archway. The escort behind him reined in sharply to avoid trampling anyone, but Damian didn’t break pace—he was already off the saddle before the horse fully stopped.Servants froze mid-step. A maid dropped the basket in her hands; apples clattered across the stones.Someone whispered his title in disbelief. Another turned and bolted into the manor.By the time Damian crossed the front steps, three attendants were scrambling over each other to find Lady Maria. Footmen scattered in every direction, tripping over apologies and poorly aimed bows. The steward, pale with panic, nearly choked on his own breath while shouting for someone—anyone—to run to the main wing.But Damian didn’t wait for their order or invitation.His boots left muddy prints on the Cross estate’s pristine marble as he strode inside. His gloves were still on, his coat unfastened from the

Damian drew in a slow breath—steady, measured, controlled. Every trace of that flicker of anger, that pang of hurt, was forced back behind the mask he’d worn long before Nathan ever came into his life. When he spoke, his voice was calm—soft in a way that cost him something.“Alright,” he said quietly. “If that’s what you’re afraid of, then breathe. I’m not going to disgrace you. I’m not going to humiliate your house or drag your name through anything.”Nathan’s breathing was still ragged, but the sharpest edge of panic stilled at Damian’s tone. His fists were still twisted in Damian’s sleeves, but his grip loosened just slightly—enough to show he’d heard him.Damian kept his hands gently braced on Nathan’s shoulders, grounding him. “I won’t dissolve anything publicly. I won’t make a scene, and I won’t let anyone think you were cast aside. If your reputation—your family’s honor—is what matters to you most in this… then consider it protected.”He held Nathan’s gaze, even as something unr

Maria waited until Ivy had gone upstairs and the last servant slipped out of sight. The moment the hall emptied, she turned—sharp, quiet, unyielding—and caught Nathan by the wrist before he could retreat down the corridor.“You’re not going anywhere,” she said softly, but there was steel under it. She guided him—no, steered him—into one of the side parlors and shut the door behind them.The silence in the room was thick enough to choke on.Nathan didn’t sit. He stood near the hearth, hands clasped behind his back like a child expecting punishment. Maria didn’t bother pretending she wasn’t staring.“What happened?” she asked, voice low but direct. No preamble, no cushioning. “And don’t tell me ‘nothing’—I know the difference between discomfort and devastation.”Nathan swallowed. “It’s complicated.”Maria’s eyebrows lifted just slightly, the way they had when he was eleven and tried to lie about breaking the stained-glass window with a sling stone. “Everything in this house is complicate