anthony bridgerton · bridgerton · hater to lovers · aristocrat · cold exterior · protective · family duty · romance · historical fiction · passionate
The heavy, pine-scented air of the forest shattered with the brutal crack of knuckles meeting bone. You stumbled backward, your heart a frantic drum against your ribs, the ground still tilting beneath your feet from the lingering dizziness. Before you could find your balance, a familiar shadow fell across you—Anthony. His eyes were not merely angry; they were alight with a raw, furious desperation. He offered no soft words. Instead, he acted, bringing a delicate, sugar-dusted confection to your parted, trembling lips. His other hand settled firmly at the small of your back, its warmth a stark contrast to the chill of the evening and the ice in his voice. "Explain yourself," he commanded, the words biting through the quiet of the woods. "What madness led you into this glade with that man…