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The storm had begun not long after midnight.
At first it had been nothing more than a distant rumble beyond the Gloucestershire hills. A low, unsettled growl that rolled through the valley and disappeared into the darkness.
But then the wind arrived.
It came suddenly, violently, tearing across the countryside with a force that made the ancient trees surrounding The Priory bend and groan. The old stone house seemed to shudder beneath the attack, its centuries-old windows rattling in their frames as though the storm itself was trying to force its way inside.
Rain hammered against the glass in relentless waves. Not gentle rain. Not summer rain. This was something wild. Something terrifying.
Lightning split the sky every few minutes, illuminating the landscape in stark flashes of silver before plunging everything back into darkness.
Taggie stirred awake.
At first she thought it was the thunder that had woken her, then she felt something warm and trembling press against her arm.
Claudius. The little dog was whining softly, his black fur pressed tightly against her as another enormous crack of thunder shook the house.
Beside the bed, Gertrude let out a frightened whimper from her basket.
Taggie opened her eyes fully.
The dogs were terrified. And if she was honest, so was she.
The storm felt different tonight. Bigger. Closer. As though the entire world outside The Priory had disappeared beneath wind and rain.
But Taggie had always been better at looking after others than admitting when she was frightened herself. So she swallowed her own fear. She reached down and gathered Claudius into her arms, burying her face briefly against his soft black fur.
“Don’t worry, pups,” she whispered. “It’s only weather.”
The lie was a gentle one. Mostly for them. A little bit for herself.
She climbed out carefully from beneath the warmth of the duvet, immediately feeling the cold bite against her bare feet.
The wooden floorboards were freezing.
With Claudius bundled in her arms, she crossed the bedroom and looked out through the window. Another flash of lightning illuminated the garden.
And her breath stopped.
Because there, standing in the middle of the lawn, surrounded by sheets of rain and darkness… was Rocky.
Rupert’s horse. His beautiful white horse.
For one impossible second Taggie wondered if she was still dreaming.
Rocky stood trembling beneath the storm, his pale coat almost glowing in the flashes of lightning. His mane was plastered against his neck, his ears flicking anxiously as the thunder rolled over the valley.
He looked frightened.
Lost.
Alone.
“Oh, sweetheart…”
Another explosion of thunder shook the ground.
Rocky startled violently, throwing his head back and stamping nervously. He half-reared, his powerful body illuminated against the darkness.
Taggie’s heart twisted because she knew Rocky. She knew how much he trusted Rupert. How much Rupert trusted him. To anyone else he was just a horse but to Rupert Campbell-Black, he was family. Taggie knew exactly what losing him would do.
She didn’t think. She never did when something needed saving.
She turned back towards the bed. Claudius watched her with worried eyes.
“Oh, no,” she whispered softly. “Don’t look at me like that.”
She carried him back to his blanket, placing him beside Gertrude.
“I’ll be back soon.”
The puppies stared at her as if they knew she was about to do something completely ridiculous. Which, of course, she was.
She reached for the small radio beside her bed and switched it on, allowing the quiet voices to fill the room.
“There,” she said softly. “You’ve got company.”
A moment later, she pulled on her battered red anorak over her white cotton nightdress, shoved her feet into a pair of wellington boots and tied her hair back as best she could.
She paused briefly.
The storm was dangerous. The woods would be flooded. She was wearing a nightdress. She was about to walk into the middle of nowhere during a storm to rescue a horse that weighed nearly half a tonne.
But then lightning flashed again and she saw Rocky standing there.
Waiting. Frightened.
So Taggie opened the front door and stepped into the storm.
The rain hit her instantly. It felt like ice. It was so cold it stole her breath.
Within seconds her anorak was soaked through, the thin material offering little protection against the force of the weather.
But Taggie barely noticed. All she could see was Rocky.
“Hello, darling.”
The horse lifted his head immediately. His ears turned towards her voice.
Taggie moved slowly.
Carefully.
No sudden movements.
No fear.
Even though every instinct inside her was screaming that she should be running back towards the warmth of the house.
“There’s my boy.”
Rocky snorted softly.
“I know. You’ve had rather a fright, haven’t you?”
She held out her hand in an attempt to reach him faster. The horse hesitated.
Another crash of thunder echoed through the valley. Rocky moved sharply sideways, almost knocking Taggie off her feet. She stumbled but steadied herself.
“There now.” Her voice remained calm. “You’re alright.”
She placed her hand against his wet neck. Underneath her palm she could feel his heartbeat. Fast. Terrified. But slowly calming.
“I know where you belong.”
And she did.
Penscombe.
Home.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
The distance between The Priory and Penscombe had never seemed particularly far. During the day, it was a beautiful walk. One she had taken countless times with the dogs. One where she could pretend — just for a little while — that life was simple.
But tonight was different. Tonight the woods were no longer peaceful. They were wild. Dangerous. The bluebells bent beneath the weight of the rain, their delicate petals battered by the wind. Great branches crashed somewhere in the darkness, and every rumble of thunder seemed to shake the ground beneath her feet.
No longer the safe sanctuary that she walks her dogs through in an attempt to see Rupert undertaking the same domestic duties.
There was no Rupert here tonight and no safe sanctuary in sight.
“Come on, darling. It’s okay,” she murmured, though she was not sure whether she was speaking to Rocky or herself. “Nearly home.”
She spoke to him constantly. About nothing. Everything. How Rupert would be worried. How he was probably searching already. How they’d both be dry soon. The horse seemed calmer simply hearing her voice.
Taggie pulled the red anorak tighter around herself, the thin fabric doing little to protect her from the relentless rain. Beneath it she was still wearing her nightgown, the absurdity of it almost making her laugh if she had not been so cold. She looked like some ghostly figure from another time. Her hair whipping across her face, walking through the bluebell woods with a great white horse at her side.
Rocky. Rupert’s pride and joy.
Taggie tightened her grip on Rocky’s lead rope and kept walking. Rocky needed her. And because somewhere deep inside, she knew Rupert would never forgive himself if something happened to him.
She could picture him now. At Penscombe… with Cameron. Probably pretending not to be worried. Probably insisting everyone stop panicking while pacing the house and checking the yard every five minutes.
Rupert Campbell-Black was many things. Arrogant. Infuriating. Impossible. But when he loved something… when he truly cared… he cared with a force that could shake the foundations of the world.
She did not know that at that very moment he was standing at his window, Cameron by his side, staring down at her.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Rupert woke before he knew why.
For a moment he lay still, staring into the darkness of the bedroom, listening to the storm raging outside.
The rain. The wind. The thunder.
All of it should have been enough to explain why he was awake but something felt wrong. A strange, instinctive unease had settled over him. The kind that made the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
Beside him, Cameron shifted beneath the duvet. “Rupert?”
He didn’t answer.
His eyes were already open. His mind was already searching. Searching for what, he didn’t know.
“Rupert?” This time her voice was clearer. “What is it?”
Still nothing. Mainly because he didn’t know how to explain something that didn’t make sense.
He had spent his entire life trusting instinct. On a horse. In business. In Parliament. In danger. And right now every instinct he had was telling him something was wrong.
He was already out of bed before Cameron had a chance to grip his arm. “Hello? Can we hear me, you bastard?”
He didn’t answer.
“What time is it?”
Rupert ignored the question.
He crossed the bedroom and pulled back the curtains. And then he stilled.
Because for one impossible second, his brain refused to understand what his eyes were seeing.
A flash of lightning illuminated the path through the trees. A small figure in a red anorak and a white nightdress visible beneath it. And beside her, the unmistakable white shape of his horse.
For a moment Rupert forgot how to breathe.
It was Taggie.
Another strike of lightning ripped across the sky. The path. The trees. The yard. And a flash of red still moving slowly through the storm.
His heart was beating fast.
Another flash of lightning.
Rocky.
His horse.
His beautiful, ridiculous, stubborn horse.
But Rupert didn’t look at Rocky first. He couldn’t. Because all he could see was Taggie.
Taggie O’Hara. Walking through a storm that had even him questioning whether it was safe to step outside.
Taggie, walking alone through a storm that could kill her.
Taggie, soaked through and freezing, yet still thinking only of getting Rocky home safely.
Taggie, who had somehow found her way into every corner of his life without ever demanding anything from him.
Taggie, who never demanded. Never complained. Never expected.
Taggie, who was currently risking herself because she had seen something frightened and vulnerable and decided it mattered.
A feeling he couldn’t name tore through his chest. Fear. Pure, violent fear.
“Taggie.” The name left his mouth as barely a whisper.
Behind him, Cameron sat up. “What?” She crossed the room, wrapping his discarded dressing gown around herself before following his gaze.
At first she saw only rain. Then the lightning struck. A white horse. And beside it… A girl in a bright red anorak, patiently coaxing Rocky towards the stable.
The way she was walking beside Rocky, one hand resting against his neck as though the two of them were the only things in the world
“Oh my God,” Cameron whispered.
Rupert didn’t hear her. Or perhaps he did, but nothing could reach him anymore. He was watching Taggie take another step. Then another. Through the storm.
Alone.
“She’s going to get herself killed,” he said.
Cameron looked at him. Not because of the words. Because of his voice.
Rupert did not sound angry, nor did he sound irritated. He did not sound like the man who could charm a room, intimidate a bunch of rowdy football hooligans, or laugh his way out of almost anything. He sounded terrified.
Cameron had seen him furious. Seen him under pressure. Seen him in during sex - wild and raw. But she had never seen him afraid. Not like this.
“What is she playing at!?,” Cameron sounded annoyed, like Taggie was an inconvenience to her night.
Rupert’s jaw tightened. Taggie always did this. She cared. She cared too fucking much. She would walk into a storm for an animal. She would stand in front of danger for someone else but she would never stop to consider that she mattered too.
Suddenly Rupert realised something that frightened him more than the storm outside. He knew what it felt like to lose things.
People.
Horses.
Friends.
He knew grief. He knew pain.
But the thought of losing Taggie…
The thought of a world where she simply wasn’t in it… Was unbearable.
He grabbed the first clothes he found.
“Rupert!”
He didn’t stop.
“Rupert, wait! It’s too dangerous!”
But he was already gone. The bedroom door slammed shut louder than the thunder outside.
A moment later, the front door opened and Rupert Campbell-Black ran into the storm.
The rain hit him immediately. Within seconds he was drenched. The wind pushed against him with such force that he had to lean forward to keep moving.
But he barely felt it.
All he could see was her. The red anorak. The white horse. The small figure moving slowly through the darkness.
“Taggie!”
His voice disappeared into the storm. She didn’t hear him.
He ran faster. Faster than he had run in years.
No arrogance. No confidence. No careful control. Just fear. Real fear.
“Taggie!”
This time Rocky heard him. The horse lifted his head.
Taggie turned.
And for a second Rupert saw her face. Confusion. Relief. And something dangerously close to happiness because she was pleased to see him. As if he hadn’t just spent the last few minutes imagining every possible disaster. As if she hadn’t almost broken him without even knowing it.
“R-rupert?”
She sounded surprised. Not frightened. Surprised. As though she couldn’t understand why he looked like he’d just survived a war.
He reached her and immediately removed his jacket. He wrapped it around her shoulders. His hands lingered. Just for a moment. Not because he meant to. Because he needed to. Needed proof. Proof that she was real. That she was standing there. That she was alive.
He took Rocky’s reins almost absently. His eyes never left Taggie.
“Tag.” His voice was rough. “What the fuck are you doing?”
“I found Rocky,” she shouted over the gale force winds battering them. Her tone as though she’d done nothing extraordinary. As though she hadn’t walked through woodland in the middle of a violent storm wearing only a nightdress beneath an anorak.
For a second he stared at her. Then he looked towards the horse. Then back to her. “I can bloody well see that.” But what he meant was: You could have died. I could have lost you.
She looked down. Ashamed of herself for causing a fuss. “I heard him.”
“Mhm.”
“He was fr-frigh.. scared.”
“Right.”
“He n-needed to.. to c-come home.”
Rupert closed his eyes briefly because somehow she still didn’t understand. She still didn’t see what she had done.
She looked exhausted. Freezing. Bare legs. Her hair was plastered against her face. Her cheeks were pink from the cold. Her hands were trembling. Her teeth were chattering. Mud covered her boots and the bottom of her nightdress. She looked absurd. Beautiful. Completely, wonderfully Taggie.
Something inside him snapped.
“You walked here?” The tone came out anger than he meant.
She nodded.
“From The Priory?”
Another nod.
“Through the woods?”
She blinked at him. She looked genuinely puzzled given the lack of walking routes between the Priory and Penscombe with a horse three times her size.
“Well… y-yes?” She was shaking so much that, for once, her stutter wasn’t due to her dyslexia but borderline hyperthermia.
Rupert stared at her. “My God.” The words were barely audible. His blood was boiling despite the freezing rain because suddenly all the things he had spent months refusing to acknowledge were standing right in front of him.
The fear. The protectiveness. The impossible tenderness. The absolute devastation he had felt at the idea of her not coming home.
He cared. Far more than he should. Far more than was sensible. Far more than he could ever take back.
“Oh my darling, you’re freezing.”
“I’m p-p-perfectly a-al—”
“No, you’re not.” He interrupted her.
She attempted a smile. “I-I ma-may be s-slightly c-co-cold.”
“Slightly cold?” Rupert raising an eyebrow at her in an attempt to coax the truth out of her.
Another shiver betrayed her. Rupert looked at her helplessly.
“You impossible girl.” His voice softened. He reached to cradle the side of her head in his hand. His thumb gliding over her freezing, wet, pink cheek. “My poor little duck.”
Her tucked her under his arm. Holding onto her tightly in an attempt to protect her from any further danger and slowly guided them towards the stables.
Taggie followed his lead. She heard what was underneath the words. Not annoyance. Not frustration. Fear. She felt an enormous amount of guilt for causing that fear.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
From the window of Penscombe, Cameron watched Rupert sprint across the yard. She had never seen him run like that. Not for a horse. Not for a hunt. Certainly not for her.
He reached Taggie and immediately shrugged off his own jacket, wrapping it around the younger woman despite the rain soaking him through.
As the lightning aluminates the sky, she saw the way Rupert looked at Taggie. The way he searched her from head to toe, as though reassuring himself she was whole.
Only then did he take Rocky’s reins. The horse had never been the thing he’d been worried about.
The way the fear in his face was not for his horse, but for the girl in the red anorak who had walked through a storm to bring him home.
A strange heaviness settled in Cameron’s chest. She’d been trying not to acknowledge it for weeks. The lingering glances. The softness in Rupert’s voice whenever he called Taggie “angel.” The way Rupert seemed to brighten whenever she entered a room.
Now there could be no pretending.
If Rupert had looked any more frightened, Cameron thought, he’d have fallen apart where he stood.
No man looked at a woman like that unless she owned his heart entirely.
And suddenly she understood.
He wasn’t simply fond of Taggie O’Hara.
He was hopelessly, irretrievably in love with Taggie O’Hara.
Whether he knew it yet or not.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
The walk back to the stables was slower than usual. Not because Rocky was difficult. Not because the storm had worsened. But because Rupert would not let Taggie walk more than a few steps without checking on her. Every few seconds his eyes moved towards her.
Was she shivering? Yes.
Was she struggling? If she was, she was hiding it well.
Was she keeping up? Yes as god knows he wasn’t letting her slip from under is arm.
Was she really alright? God Rupert hoped so otherwise he wasn’t sure his heart would ever recover.
Taggie noticed. Of course she noticed. She noticed everything about Rupert. The tiny changes in his expression. The things he said when he meant something else. The things he refused to say at all.
And tonight, more than ever, she could see straight through him. He was frightened.
Rupert Campbell-Black was frightened for her and she didn’t know what to do with that.
Rupert was many things. He was powerful. Confident. Impossible. Charming. The kind of man who walked into a room and made everyone else adjust themselves around him. He was not the kind of man who looked like he had almost died because a girl had walked through a storm.
Yet here he was.
His jacket around her shoulders. His hand holding Rocky’s reins.
His other hand clinging to her shoulder as though he was ready to catch her if she slipped - or never let her slip at all. As though she might disappear if he looked away.
“R-rupert?”
He glanced down quickly at her. Scanning her face. “Yes, Angel?”
“You’re staring.”
“I’m checking.”
“For what?”
He looked away.
“For signs that you’re about to collapse… or disappear”
Taggie smiled faintly. “I’m not.”
“You walked through a storm in your nightdress.”
She looked down at herself. Then back at him.
“When you say it like that, it does sound rather silly.”
“Because it is.”
“I couldn’t leave him.”
“I know.” The answer came immediately. Too quickly. Taggie looked at him. Rupert looked ahead because that was the problem. He did know. He knew exactly why she had done it. She was Taggie. She loved things deeply and quietly. She saw fear in a frightened animal and could not simply turn away. She would always choose kindness, even when it cost her.
And that was precisely why he was terrified.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Rocky was safely back in his stable within minutes. Rupert rubbed him down, fed him, and reassured him.
Rocky was home, safe and unharmed. All because of the girl standing a few feet away, soaked through and shivering.
Taggie smiled as she watched. A small, tired smile. The kind that came from knowing everything was alright.
She reached out and stroked Rocky’s nose. “There you are. Safe ‘n’ sound.”
The horse nudged her hand. She laughed softly.
“Don’t you dare pretend that this is your fault, sweet boy. We all get scared. Gertrude and Claudius were. I put the radio on for them.” She whispered to the stallion.
Rupert watched. Something inside him shifted. She wasn’t waiting for thanks. She wasn’t expecting praise. She wasn’t thinking about the fact she had crossed half the countryside in the middle of the night. Her life at risk.
She was just happy Rocky was safe. Suddenly he realised something terrifying. She would have done it even if nobody ever knew. Even if Rupert never found out. Even if there was no reward. No recognition. She would have simply done the right thing. Because that was who she was.
Fuck.
The thought arrived quietly. Not dramatically. Not like some grand revelation. Just a simple truth that had apparently been waiting patiently for him to stop fighting it.
He loved her.
Not because she was beautiful, although she was.
Not because she made him feel young again, although she did.
Not because she challenged him, although she constantly did.
He loved her because she was Taggie.
Because she cared when others didn’t. She noticed things everyone else missed. She made kindness look like courage.
The thought of a world without her in it had nearly destroyed him.
“Rupert?”
He looked at her.
She was holding out a polo mint towards Rocky. Her fingers were trembling.
Those few moments when he had seen her in the storm, he had imagined losing her, and it had felt like someone had reached inside him and ripped something out.
He swallowed hard because his imagination had already written a different ending.
One where he’d looked from that bedroom window and saw no red anorak. Only seeing Rocky. Loose. Without his Taggie. He imagined following hoofprints into the woods. Calling her name. No answer. Finding her red anorak caught beneath a fallen oak. Rain pouring over her still face, soaking her nightdress. Her hand still clutching Rocky’s lead rope.
Still. Silent. Cold.
Gone.
The image arrived so vividly he almost doubled over. His chest tightened so violently he couldn’t breathe.
No.
“Rupert?”
He could hear her but he couldn’t reach her. His body was betraying him, rooting him to the spot. His mind making him view alternative realities.
Another image arrived uninvited.
She slipped crossing the stream. The current carried her. Dragging her underneath the surface. He arrived too late.
Another.
Lightning struck the old ash tree. Falling at great pace. Not caring what was underneath it.
Another.
Rocky panicked. She fell and hit her head. Hard.
Every possibility ended exactly the same way.
Too late.
Too late.
Too late.
His chest tightened violently.
“Rupert?” Her voice pulled him back.
He realised she’d taken his hand. Her fingers were freezing. He gripped them tightly.
Alive.
Alive.
Alive.
She was looking at him concerned. Always concerned for everyone except herself.
“Are you alright?”
The irony nearly made him laugh.
She was asking him that. After everything. After she had nearly shaved ten years off his life.
He looked at her hands. Red from the cold. He took them gently. They were freezing.
“My angel.” The words came out softer than he intended.
Taggie looked up. The corner of her mouth lifting.
“You really did frighten me.”
Her expression changed. The slight smile disappeared as quickly as it came. Tears threatened behind her eyes.
“I- I only w-wanted to b-bring him home.”
“I know.”
“I didn’t think—”
“No.” His voice was quieter now. “You never think about yourself.”
“I’m not important.”
He stared at her. “Don’t.”
She frowned.
“Don’t you dare ever say that again.”
“I’m s-sorry I scared you.”
“No.” His voice was immediate. “No, don’t apologise.”
“But—”
“Don’t.”
He tightened his grip slightly.
“Do you know what I saw?”
She shook her head.
“I saw Rocky.” A pause. “Then I saw you.” His voice became quieter. “And for a second, I thought…”
He stopped because saying it aloud made it too real.
Taggie waited. Rupert looked away in an attempt to fight off the tears.
“I thought I’d lost you. Forever.”
Her breath caught. A single tear rolled down her cheek. “Rupert…”
“I imagined finding him” — he nodded towards Rocky — “tomorrow morning”. His jaw tightened. “But not you.”
“I imagined searching those woods.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“Calling your name.” Another pause. “And no answer.”
Tears were spilling down Taggie’s face.
“I imagined carrying your limp body home.” His voice cracked. “I imagined being too late.”
“Oh, Rupert…”
“I can’t stop.” He laughed bitterly. “Every time I blink there is another version. I know it sounds bloody ridiculous.”
“It doesn’t.”
“It does. I’ve been thrown from horses. I’ve broken bones. I’ve stood in front of people who wanted to ruin me. Your Father included.”
He looked at her.
“But that?” His voice cracked slightly. “That terrified me.”
“I’m h-here.”
“I know.”
“I’m safe.”
“I know.”
“You don’t have to keep imagining those things.”
His eyes stayed on hers.
“I wish I could stop.”
The honesty of it stunned her because Rupert didn’t say things like that. Not ever. He didn’t admit weakness. He didn’t admit fear. He certainly didn’t admit needing someone.
But tonight he couldn’t hide. Not from her.
“You matter too much,” he whispered.
The words hung between them.
Simple.
Bare.
Completely true.
Taggie looked down. Her hands dropping from Rupert’s and interlacing her fingers together nervously.
“I didn’t think…”
“I know.”
“I only wanted to help.”
“I know.”
“I wasn’t frig- fright- frightened.” Finally managing to conquer that word in her muddled mind.
“I was.”
She looked up. She saw everything he was trying desperately not to show.
The shaking hands. The pale face. The exhaustion. The man beneath the charm.
“You were?”
Rupert looked away. “I’ve never been afraid of much.” A pause. “But I was petrified tonight.”
The admission was almost painful for him.
Taggie’s heart ached.
Because Rupert Campbell-Black was admitting that she mattered.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
They finally walked back towards the house.
The storm had begun to move away, though rain still battered the windows and thunder continued to roll across the hills.
Rupert still had not let go of her hand.
Not once.
When they reached the side entrance, Taggie attempted to pull away.
“I’m making a terrible mess.”
“I couldn’t care less.”
“You’ll have mud everywhere.”
“I’ve survived worse.”
She smiled slightly. “I’m sorry.”
He sighed. “Stop apologising, Tag.”
She looked at him.
“I was angry.”
Her expression fell slightly.
Rupert immediately shook his head. Upset at his choice of words.
“No.” His voice softened.
“I wasn’t angry.” A pause. “I was fucking terrified.”
Silence.
The noise of the rain filled the space between them.
Taggie stared at him because Rupert had said it again.
Terrified.
Not annoyed at her. Not frustrated with her. Not inconvenienced by what she did.
Terrified.
“I didn’t think—”
“No.” He smiled sadly. “That’s your problem.”
She frowned. “My problem?”
“You never think about yourself.”
“That’s n-not true.”
“It is.”
She opened her mouth to argue but stopped. Maybe it was true?
Rupert stepped closer.
His voice dropped. “Do you know what you are?”
Taggie smiled faintly. “Apparently a person who walks around in a nightdress during thunderstorms.”
Despite himself, Rupert laughed. A real laugh.
“My impossible girl.” His expression softened. “My brave little duck.”
Taggie’s smile faded slightly because suddenly she understood. This was not Rupert teasing her. This was Rupert trying to tell her something he didn’t know how to say.
And for the first time… She wondered if perhaps she had misunderstood him all along.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
The kitchen at Penscombe was warm. Almost painfully warm after the cold of the storm.
The old Aga hummed quietly, casting a golden glow across the room while rain continued to drum against the windows. The world outside was still wild, but inside there was a sense of safety.
A complete contrast to the chaos of the last hour.
Taggie sat wrapped in one of Rupert’s old jumpers, the sleeves hanging over her hands. He had found her a blanket, and she was tucked into one of the large kitchen chairs with a mug of tea warming her fingers.
Taggie looked small. Too small for the storm she had walked through. Too gentle for the danger she had faced.
Rupert stood across the room, watching Taggie. He could not stop. He told himself it was because he was making sure she was alright.
Taggie was different from any other woman he had laid eyes on. She had no idea what she did to him. She had no idea that one smile from her could disarm him more effectively than any opponent ever had. No idea that hearing her voice tonight had been the only thing that stopped him from completely losing control. No idea that he had spent years believing he was incapable of needing anyone.
Cameron stood at the threshold of the kitchen. She coughed to make them aware of her presence.
For a moment nobody spoke. The atmosphere changed. Not badly. Just differently.
Taggie immediately smiled. “Hi Cameron.”
“Are you alright? Enjoying your tea?”
Taggie nodded. “Yes. Thank you.”
Cameron to glance at Rupert. Then back at Taggie.
“You scared everyone you know. It was quite reckless what you did.”
Rupert’s gaze shot round to glare at Cameron. His fists clenching at her sharp words.
Taggie looked guilty and adverted her eyes downwards. “I’m sorry.”
Rupert immediately sighed. “There it is again.”
“What?” Both Taggie and Cameron said in unison. Taggie in her usual gentle manner. Cameron in her bullish one.
Rupert looked in Taggie’s direction. “The apologising.”
“Well I’m glad Rocky is safe,” Cameron said quickly.
Taggie smiled. “So am I.”
Cameron stepped further into the room. Her hand landing softly on Rupert’s back. A sigh of possession in front of Taggie. “He was lucky you found him.”
Taggie shook her head. “No. Rupert would have done the same for Rocky. He just happened to be in my garden so I saw him first.”
Rupert shifted away from Cameron enough that her hand fell back down by her side. She now had a clearer view of Rupert’s face.
Just for a second, his expression softened. Hearing Taggie say that affected him. She wasn’t wrong, he would of course saved Rocky. But Cameron also knew something else, Rupert would have because Rocky was his.
Taggie had done it because Rocky was his.
There was a difference. And Rupert knew it too.
Cameron settled herself in the opposite side of the kitchen to Taggie. Mainly so she could obverse the looks shared between the two of them.
“You’re staring again.”
Rupert looked up at Taggie, whilst Cameron glared at her.
Taggie was watching Rupert over the rim of her mug. Self-consciously aware of Cameron’s stare.
“I’m not.”
She raised an eyebrow. “You are.”
He almost smiled.
He walked towards the counter and poured himself a drink.
“I could do with a drink,” Cameron demanded from her corner of the room.
Rupert ignored her. He was annoyed with the way Cameron was looking at Taggie. Like she was an inconvenience. Like she was anything other than perfect.
Rupert busied himself in making his drink because not doing anything but looking at Taggie was becoming unbearable. Every time he looked at her, he remembered the flash of red in the darkness.
The possibility of never being able to call Taggie his. The terror of losing her forever.
He hated that his mind had gone there. Hated that for those few moments, the strongest man in most rooms had felt completely powerless.
“Are you still cross with me?”
Rupert turned. Noticing that Cameron had left the kitchen. Thank god, he thought. He locked eyes with Taggie’s big, beautiful eyes.
“No.”
“You seemed cross.”
“I was.”
She looked confused. “But you just said you weren’t.”
He sighed and massaged his temples.
“I wasn’t cross because you brought Rocky home.”
“Then why?”
His eyes scanned her face. Rupert considered lying. It would have been easy. He was very good at avoiding the truth by making a joke, flirting or any other distraction available to him. Anything to avoid saying what was actually in his head but tonight… tonight he was too tired to pretend.
“Because you didn’t think what would happen if you didn’t make it.”
The room became quiet.
Taggie looked down.
“I knew I’d be alright.”
Rupert’s expression changed.
“No.” The word was quiet but firm. “You hoped you’d be alright.”
She looked back at him.
“That’s not the same thing.”
Taggie opened her mouth. Then closed it because she knew he was right.
“I couldn’t leave him, Rupert. I didn’t want you to lose him.”
“I know.”
“And I knew Rocky would be frightened.”
“I know.” His voice softened. “That’s exactly why I was scared.”
She frowned. “Because I helped?”
“No.” He shook his head. “Because you care so much that you forget you’re allowed to be cared for too.”
The words landed harder than either of them expected.
Taggie looked away because she didn’t know what to do with that.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Later, when Taggie had finally been persuaded to go upstairs and take a bath, Cameron found Rupert standing alone in the hallway. He was looking up the stairs in the direction of where Taggie would be.
The storm had moved further away. The house was quiet again. Almost normal.
Almost.
“You love her.”
Rupert froze.
He didn’t turn around. “Don’t be ridiculous.”
Cameron leaned against the doorway. “I didn’t ask.”
A long silence.
Rupert looked down.
“She could have been killed tonight,” he said uncharacteristically quietly.
“Yes.” The answer was simple and it irritated him because Cameron wasn’t disagreeing. She was stating a fact.
“She could have been killed,” Rupert repeated.
“Yes.”
“She was walking through a storm. To save my horse.”
“Yes.”
“And I saw her.” He paused. “And I thought…”he stopped. Stopped because he couldn’t bring himself to say it.
Cameron finished it quietly for him. “That you’d lost her?”
Rupert’s jaw tightened.
He hated that she understood. Hated that anyone did. Especially because he understood too.
Cameron watched him carefully.
“You weren’t looking at Rocky.”
His eyes lifted. “What?”
“When we saw them outside.” She swallowed. “You weren’t looking at Rocky.”
Silence.
“You were looking at her.”
Rupert looked away. Because she was right and that was the worst part. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
Cameron’s expression softened. “I don’t want you to say anything.”
“Then what?”
“Just stop pretending.”
His laugh was quiet. “I don’t pretend.”
Cameron looked at him. “Rupert. You have spent your entire life convincing everyone that nothing can hurt you.”
His face hardened slightly. “And?”
“And tonight you looked like a man who had just realised he had something to lose... and it wasn’t the horse.”
The words stayed with him. Something to lose.
Because that was exactly what frightened him.
Losing her.
His reason to breathe. His Angel. His Celestial Light.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Upstairs, Taggie lay awake in one of Penscombe’s many spare rooms.
She should have been asleep. She was exhausted.
Her body ached from the cold, even after the bath, and the warmth of the blankets was pulling her towards dreams.
But she couldn’t stop thinking about Rupert. About the way he had looked at her. About the fear in his voice.
You matter too much.
The words kept returning.
She had spent so long believing Rupert saw her as something fragile. Something sweet.
His “angel”.
His “little duck”.
A person he teased because she was easy to tease.
But tonight she had seen something else. She had seen the man beneath everything. The one nobody else seemed to get close to. And he had been scared because of her.
Taggie closed her eyes.
And for the first time, she allowed herself to wonder the impossible. Maybe Rupert didn’t just care about her. Maybe he cared about her far more than he should. Far more than she deserved.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Downstairs, Rupert stood alone in his study.
The storm had almost passed. Almost.
But inside him, something had changed.
For years he had believed love was something that happened to other people. Something messy. Something inconvenient. Something that made you weak.
But then Taggie O’Hara had walked into his life. And somehow, without trying… She had become the one thing in the world he could not bear to lose.
Rupert Campbell-Black had faced enemies, danger, scandal and disaster. But nothing had ever frightened him quite like the thought of a world without Taggie in it.
And that terrified him more than the storm ever could.
He picked up the empty glass on his desk and then launched it across the room in frustration.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Morning arrived slowly.
Not with the brightness and warmth that usually settled over Penscombe, but with a quiet grey stillness.
The storm had finally moved on.
The sky was pale and washed clean, the landscape outside glistening beneath the remains of the night’s violence. Broken branches littered the lawns, puddles filled the paths, and the old trees surrounding Penscombe stood battered. Some upright. Some not.
The world had survived. Just.
Rupert felt as though something inside him had shifted permanently.
He had barely slept. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw the same image.
A flash of lightning.
A red anorak.
A white horse.
And Taggie.
Then Taggie would disappear.
Leaving just Rocky standing alone.
A large tree. Crashing to the ground after years of standing to attention.
Taggie underneath it.
Still.
Lifeless.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:
He found her in the kitchen. Of course he did.
Because apparently nearly dying in a storm was not enough to convince Taggie O’Hara that she should rest.
She was sitting at the table in his jumper, her hair still slightly damp from her shower, drinking tea while flicking through one of Penscombe’s many cookbooks.
She looked perfectly normal. Infuriatingly normal.
As though she hadn’t nearly given Rupert a heart attack less than twelve hours earlier.
He stood in the doorway. Watching… again.
She noticed.
“Good morning.” Her voice was chirpy and upbeat.
His expression remained serious. “Is it?”
Taggie’s upbeat expression turned sour.
“You’re still cross.”
“I’m not cross.”
“You look cross.”
“I always look cross.”
“No.” She tilted her head. “Not always.”
That stopped him because she said it so simply. So genuinely. As though she had seen parts of him nobody else bothered looking for.
Rupert walked into the room. “You should still be in bed angel.”
“I slept.”
“For how long?”
She hesitated.
Rupert narrowed his eyes.
“Taggie.”
“A few hours.”
“That’s not enough.”
“I’m fine.”
“There it is.”
“What?”
“That.”
She frowned. “What?”
“‘I’m fine.’” He mimicked her softly. “You say it every time.”
“Because usually I am.”
“No.” His voice softened. “Usually you’re just making sure everyone else believes you are.”
The comment caught her off guard because it was accurate.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
The kettle clicked. The clock ticked.
Outside, somewhere in the distance, birds had begun singing again.
Life had returned.
But inside the kitchen, something delicate remained suspended.
Taggie looked down. “I-I really didn’t mean to frighten you.”
Rupert’s expression changed immediately.
“I know.”
“I really didn’t.”
“I know.”
“I just saw him.” She swallowed. “And I knew he needed help.”
“I know.”
The repetition was almost frustrating.
“You keep saying that.”
“Because I do know.”
He sat opposite her.
“Do you think I don’t understand why you went?”
She looked at him.
“I understand better than anyone.”
And she believed him. Because he did know.
That was the strange thing about Rupert. People often saw the arrogance. The confidence. The charm. They assumed he was careless because he was fearless.
Taggie knew better.
Rupert cared fiercely. He simply hid it better than most people.
“You know what frightened me most?”
Taggie looked up.
Rupert rarely admitted fear. So when he did, she listened.
“What?”
He looked towards the window.
“The fact that you didn’t even consider not going.”
She frowned. “Rocky needed me.”
“Yes.”
“But—”
“That’s what I mean.”
He turned back to her.
“You’re so busy thinking about everyone else that you forget you’re someone worth saving too.”
Taggie went quiet. Nobody had ever said that to her before. Not like that. Not with such certainty.
Rupert leaned back slightly, studying her.
“You really don’t know, do you?”
“Know what?”
He almost answered. Almost. Years of instinct stopped him because saying it aloud would change everything and Rupert Campbell-Black was very good at avoiding things that changed everything.
So instead he reached across the table and took her hand. A simple gesture but not simple at all.
Taggie looked down at their hands.
Neither of them moved.
“You scared me,” he said quietly.
“I’m sorry.”
He gave her a look.
“Sor—“ she stopped herself. “Right. No apologising.”
“Good girl.”
A tiny smile appeared.
“You’re impossible.”
“I’ve been told.”
“Frequently, I imagine.”
“Mostly by you.”
“That’s because it’s true.”
And for a moment, just a moment, Rupert felt normal again.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Cameron watched from the hallway.
She hadn’t intended to as she had simply been passing by but then she saw them and stopped.
This was the thing she had noticed long before Rupert had. The quiet moments. The ones where nobody was performing. Where Rupert wasn’t Rupert Campbell-Black the legend. He was just a man. A man holding Taggie’s hand as though it was the most natural thing in the world. A man looking at her as though she was something precious.
Cameron felt a strange sadness. Not anger. Not jealousy. Just sadness. She had spent months trying to understand why Rupert felt different around Taggie. Now she knew.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
Later that morning, Taggie found Cameron outside.
The gardens were damaged from the storm, but the sun had finally begun breaking through.
For a while, neither woman spoke.
They simply stood looking over the valley.
“H-he was frightened,” Taggie said quietly.
Cameron glanced at her. “Rupert?”
Taggie nodded. “I’ve never seen him like that.”
“No.”
“He was really scared.”
Cameron looked away.
“Yes.”
Taggie smiled faintly. “I know how much he cares about Rocky.”
“He cares deeply about the things he loves,” Cameron said carefully.
Taggie looked thoughtful. “The things he loves?”
Cameron smiled sadly. “Yes.”
The words stayed between them.
Taggie looked down.
Suddenly she remembered. The way Rupert had said her name. The way he had held her hands. The way his voice had broken when he admitted he thought he’d lost her.
Maybe it hadn’t just been fear for Rocky. Maybe it hadn’t just been concern.
Maybe…
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
That evening, Rupert stood outside Rocky’s stable.
The horse was calm.
Safe.
Exactly where he belonged. Rupert rested a hand against his neck. “You gave me a hell of a night.”
Rocky flicked an ear.
Rupert almost smiled.
Then he looked back towards the Priory. Towards the window where Taggie’s bedroom light was still on.
The storm had not changed how he felt. It had only removed his ability to deny it.
He loved her.
There was no escaping it. No pretending it was temporary. No convincing himself it was simply affection.
He loved Taggie O’Hara.
And the most terrifying thing was not that she had the power to hurt him. It was that she already did because somewhere along the way, without him noticing…
She had become home.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*
The storm left more than fallen branches in its wake.
For the next few days, Penscombe settled back into its familiar rhythm. Workmen repaired damaged fences, chainsaws buzzed from dawn until dusk, and gardeners cleared limbs that had been torn from centuries-old oaks. The lake had burst its banks, leaving the lower paddocks under water, and every conversation seemed to begin with, “Have you seen the damage by the south drive?”
Life carried on. It always did.
But for Rupert, nothing felt quite the same.
He began noticing Taggie everywhere.
Not because she had suddenly changed but because he had stopped lying to himself.
She was in the kitchen before breakfast, humming softly as she buttered toast for Gertrude and Claudius, apologising to Mrs. Jenkins because she’d borrowed the last of the marmalade.
She was in the rose garden that afternoon, kneeling in the mud to rescue a robin tangled in netting, emerging filthy and smiling as though she’d won a medal.
She was laughing with one of the stable boys who had broken a buckle on Rocky’s bridle, insisting it wasn’t his fault before Rupert had the chance to bark at him.
She simply… existed.
And every room seemed brighter because she was in it. It was intolerably inconvenient.
Rupert had decided on a strategy.
Avoid her.
It was, he assured himself, an excellent plan.
It lasted until approximately nine o’clock on Monday morning.
Rupert and Cameron had stopped by the Priory to discuss Venturer business with Declan.
The meeting had already run well over an hour. Declan O’Hara’s study was warm, lined floor to ceiling with books and overflowing with Venturer files. Papers covered every available surface, coffee cups had long since gone cold, and Rupert Campbell-Black had reached the end of his patience approximately twenty-three minutes earlier.
Declan was still talking.
“…which is precisely why the board will need convincing before they agree to the revised advertising schedule.”
Rupert nodded absently. “Mmm.”
Cameron glanced sideways at him. She recognised the look. His body was in the room. His mind most certainly wasn’t.
Declan continued enthusiastically, oblivious. “If we move the launch back by six weeks—”
Rupert’s attention drifted towards the study door. Beyond it came the familiar sounds of The Priory. A dog barking. Someone laughing. The faint clatter of crockery from the kitchen.
Taggie.
He smiled to himself before he could stop it.
“…Rupert?”
He blinked. “What?”
“I asked whether you agreed.”
“Entirely.”
Declan frowned. “You don’t even know what I’ve just said.”
Rupert looked thoroughly unapologetic. “I imagine it was sensible.”
Cameron bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself smiling. Declan laughed. “You’ve stopped listening.”
“I’ve been listening.”
“You’ve been staring at the door.”
Rupert stood, stretching lazily. “I’m making coffee.”
Declan looked at the untouched pot on his desk. “There’s coffee here.”
“That,” Rupert said gravely, “ceased to be coffee about forty minutes ago.”
Without waiting for an answer, he wandered out of the study.
Declan shook his head. “He has the attention span of a Labrador.”
Cameron smiled politely. If only you knew why Declan.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:
The kitchen was exactly as Rupert had expected. Warm. Comfortable.
Smelling faintly of freshly baked bread.
Claudius was asleep in front of the Aga, one paw twitching as he dreamed. Gertrude barely lifted her head before deciding Rupert wasn’t interesting enough to warrant moving.
But there was no sign of Taggie.
“Hello?” Rupert called.
No answer.
He walked further into the room. Then he heard her voice.
“Oh… bother.”
It came from the pantry. Rupert followed the voice and stopped in the doorway.
“Good God.”
Taggie was balancing precariously on the very top of an old wooden stool, standing on tiptoe with one arm stretched impossibly high towards the top shelf.
A large preserving jar sat just beyond her fingertips.
She rocked slightly. The stool rocked with her.
Rupert felt every muscle in his body tense.
“What,” he said very slowly, “are you doing?”
Taggie jumped. “Oh!”
The stool wobbled alarmingly. She instinctively reached for the shelf instead of the stool, which turned out to be a mistake. The stool slipped sideways.
For one horrifying second Rupert watched the entire thing unfold.
The sharp intake of her breath. Her arms windmilling helplessly. The stool tipping beneath her.
“Taggie!”
He crossed the room in two strides.
She lost her balance completely. With a small cry she pitched forwards.
Rupert caught her before she reached the floor.
The impact knocked him backwards a step as her full weight landed against him.
The preserving jar crashed harmlessly onto a sack of flour behind them.
For a heartbeat neither of them moved.
Taggie’s hands had instinctively grabbed hold of his shoulders. Rupert had one arm firmly around her waist, the other supporting her back.
Her heart was racing. He could feel it. So was his.
“You…” Rupert said, breathing harder than the situation probably warranted “…have got to stop doing that.”
Taggie looked up at him, wide-eyed. “I’m s-sorry.”
“No.” His grip tightened slightly. “No, absolutely not.”
“I nearly had the jar.”
“You nearly had a fractured skull.”
“It wasn’t that dramatic.”
“It was from where I was standing.”
She gave him an apologetic little smile. “I’ve always climbed on things.”
“I’ve noticed.”
“I couldn’t reach.”
“So you decided gravity was merely a suggestion?”
She laughed. “I suppose when you put it like that…”
“I am putting it exactly like that.”
Only then did Rupert realise he was still holding her.
Quite closely.
He cleared his throat.
“Oh.” Taggie immediately stepped back, smoothing her jumper despite there being nothing wrong with it. A faint flush had crept into her cheeks.
Rupert looked equally unsettled. He picked up the offending stool. “I’m confiscating this.”
“You can’t confiscate furniture.”
“I most certainly can.”
“It belongs to Mummy.”
“I’ll explain.”
“You’ll get me into trouble.”
“I’d rather get you into trouble than have you concussed.”
Taggie folded her arms. “You do fuss.”
Rupert looked at her as though she’d said something completely absurd. “I do not.”
“You do.”
“I am exercising perfectly reasonable concern.”
“You looked frightened.”
“I was not frightened.”
She smiled knowingly. “You shouted my name.”
“I should hope so.”
“You ran.”
“Obviously.”
“You caught me.”
“I wasn’t going to let you hit the floor.” The words escaped before he could soften them.
Silence settled between them.
Taggie looked at him. Really looked. Something warm passed through her chest.
Before she could say anything, footsteps echoed along the corridor.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:
Back in the study, Cameron looked back at Declan.
“I’ll fetch him.”
“Good luck.”
She smiled and headed towards the kitchen.
She could hear voices before she reached the doorway.
Rupert’s.
“…if I ever find you standing on that stool again, I’ll nail it to the floor.”
Taggie laughed. “You wouldn’t.”
“I absolutely would.”
“You’d ruin the tiles.”
“I’d buy new tiles.”
Cameron paused just outside.
There was laughter in Rupert’s voice. Not the polished, charming laugh he used at parties. Not the exaggerated one he employed to deflect awkward questions.
This was different.
Warmer.
She stepped into the doorway.
Rupert was holding the stool under one arm as though it were evidence in a criminal trial.
Taggie was standing opposite him trying—and failing—not to laugh.
“What on earth is going on?”
Both of them looked round.
Rupert answered immediately. “She attempted to kill herself.”
Taggie gasped. “I did not!”
“You were balancing on the top of this death trap.”
“It is a stool.”
“It is an instrument of catastrophe.”
“I was reaching for jam.”
“You were auditioning for A&E.”
“What happened?” Cameron asked with mock concern.
Taggie opened her mouth. Rupert answered first. “She slipped.”
“I was perfectly—”
“She was falling.”
“I wasn’t falling.”
“You were horizontal.”
“I was leaning.”
“You were airborne.”
“I was not airborne.”
“You were for at least a second.”
Taggie laughed despite herself. “It wasn’t quite that dramatic.”
Rupert looked genuinely offended. “It was exactly that dramatic.”
Cameron watched them quietly. Neither of them seemed aware how close they were standing or how instinctively Rupert had placed himself between Taggie and the stool, as though it remained a threat.
“Is everyone still alive?” Cameron asked lightly.
“Barely,” Rupert replied.
Taggie rolled her eyes. “I’ve survived the Rupert Campbell-Black’s health and safety lecture.”
“And there’ll be another one if you insist on climbing furniture.”
She smiled up at him. “Yes, Sir.” There was something in the way she called him Sir that made his cock twitch.
Rupert quietly move the stool into the corner of the pantry, well out of Taggie’s reach, before she could protest.
Not because he wanted to win the argument but because he genuinely couldn’t bear the thought of her trying again.
Standing in the warm kitchen of The Priory, Cameron realised it was perhaps the clearest sign yet. Rupert Campbell-Black wasn’t protecting Taggie because she was Declan’s daughter or because she was absent-minded or because she’d nearly fallen.
He protected her because, somewhere along the way, her safety had become instinct. As natural to him as breathing.
✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ:
The afternoon had settled into that peculiar stillness that often follows a violent storm.
The air was cool and fresh, carrying the scent of damp earth, crushed bluebells and newly broken wood. Shafts of pale sunshine filtered through the canopy, catching droplets of water that still clung stubbornly to every leaf.
Taggie wandered slowly along the woodland path with Claudius trotting faithfully at her heels while Gertrude ambled behind, stopping every few yards to investigate some fascinating smell left behind by the night’s rain.
The bluebell woods had always been her sanctuary. Whenever life became too loud, too complicated, she came here.
Usually, the familiar paths soothed her. Today they felt different. Everywhere she looked the storm had left its mark. Ancient beech branches lay splintered across the paths. Whole trees had been uprooted, their tangled roots clawing at the air like giant hands. The little stream, normally no more than a gentle ribbon winding through the woods, had swollen into a fast-moving torrent, its muddy water churning angrily around rocks and fallen logs.
Taggie stopped as her stomach tightened.
The rushing water sounded far too much like the rain had sounded that night.
She stood perfectly still.
Without meaning to, she was back there again.
Lightning. The deafening crack of thunder. Rocky’s frightened eyes. The icy rain soaking through her nightdress.
Rupert. Running towards her. The look on his face. Not of anger but of terror.
“You really frightened me.”
She swallowed hard as the memory wrapped itself around her chest.
She walked a little further before lowering herself onto an old oak that had fallen years before, now softened by moss.
Claudius immediately climbed into her lap. Gertrude lay against her boots with a sigh.
Taggie stroked Claudius absently.
She had replayed that night a hundred times. Not because she regretted going. She never could. Rocky had needed her. She would make exactly the same decision tomorrow if required.
But Rupert… She had never seen him stripped so completely of the armour he wore. Fear. Real fear. For her.
She wrapped both arms around herself.
Why had he looked at her like that?
Why had the thought of losing her reduced the fearless Rupert Campbell-Black to a man whose hands visibly shook?
She closed her eyes.
“You matter too much.” The words echoed inside her head.
Her breathing became uneven.
She opened her eyes again.
The stream seemed louder now. The water was rushing faster. Too fast.
Her heart began beating harder.
She tried to take a breath but it caught halfway.
No… Not now.
She looked around.
The woods suddenly seemed darker. The broken branches looked unfamiliar. The shadows stretched longer than they should.
Another gust of wind stirred the treetops. Branches creaked overhead.
Taggie flinched.
Her chest tightened painfully. She tried to breathe again.
Nothing.
Her lungs refused. The harder she tried, the worse it became. Her fingers tingled. Her vision blurred around the edges.
Claudius whined softly, placing tiny paws against her knees.
“I-I’m alright…” Her own voice sounded distant. Unconvincing.
The dogs pressed closer.
Taggie bent forward, gripping the edge of the fallen log as panic surged through her body.
She couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.
The woods suddenly felt exactly as they had that night.
Cold.
Dark.
Endless.
A twig snapped somewhere behind her. She jumped violently. More footsteps followed. Steady and unhurried.
Then a familiar voice. “Tag?”
She didn’t answer. She couldn’t.
Rupert appeared around the bend in the path with Beaver and Blue running a little ahead of him.
The dogs bounded happily towards Claudius and Gertrude before slowing almost immediately. Even they sensed something wasn’t right.
Rupert’s smile disappeared the instant he saw her. Taggie was curled in on herself, shoulders shaking, her face drained of colour.
“Taggie?”
He crossed the distance in seconds. “Angel?”
She looked up. Her eyes were full of tears.
“I… I c-can’t…” She couldn’t finish.
Rupert’s stomach dropped. He recognised it immediately. Not illness. Not injury. But panic.
He crouched in front of her. “What happened?”
She shook her head frantically. “I d-don’t know.”
“You’re safe.”
She tried to breathe but instead another wave of panic crashed over her. “I c-can’t breathe Rupert.”
“Yes, you can.” His voice was low. Calm. Certain. “I promise you, you can.”
She shook her head again. “I can’t.”
“You are.”
She looked at him desperately. “It doesn’t f-feel like it.”
Rupert reached out slowly. Giving her every opportunity to move away. Instead, she leaned towards him without even realising she had done it. He rested one hand gently against the back of her neck. The other enclosed both of hers. They were ice cold.
“Look at me.”
She tried.
Her eyes darted everywhere except his face.
“Tag.” His voice was impossibly gentle. “Look at me.”
Finally, she did.
“There you are.” His thumb brushed lightly across her knuckles. “I’ve got you. I’m not going anywhere.”
Another shaky breath.
“That’s it.”
She was still trembling violently.
Rupert moved closer until he was kneeling directly in front of her.
“Can you hear Beaver?”
The Labrador had flopped dramatically onto his back beside Claudius, demanding attention.
Taggie nodded faintly.
“Good.”
“And Blue?”
Blue had wandered over to Gertrude and was happily sniffing her ears.
Another tiny nod.
“Good girl.” He smiled softly. “Now listen to the stream.”
Her face tightened. “I c-can’t.”
“No?”
She shook her head. “It sounds like…”
“The storm?”
Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. She nodded.
“Oh, darling.” The endearment slipped out without thought.
He moved onto the log beside her. Slowly and carefully. Then, without asking, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders. For a heartbeat she remained rigid. Then something inside her gave way. She folded against him. Completely. Her forehead rested against his chest as sobs finally escaped.
Rupert held her. One hand stroked slowly through her hair. The other rubbed soothing circles across her back.
Neither hurried. Neither spoke.
The woods remained utterly still around them.
“I thought I was over it,” she whispered eventually.
“I know.”
“I wasn’t s-scared then.”
“I know.”
“But now…”
“I know.”
“I keep hearing it.”
Rupert rested his cheek lightly against the top of her head. “I hear it too.”
She looked up. “You do?”
“I keep seeing you.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “In that red anorak.” He swallowed. “Walking through that storm.”
She stared at him.
“I can’t stop thinking what might have happened.”
Neither of them noticed Beaver quietly resting his head on Rupert’s boot or Blue sitting watchfully a few feet away as though standing guard.
“I fri- frightened you,” Taggie whispered.
Rupert gave a tiny laugh. “You nearly finished me.”
“I’m sorry.”
He smiled sadly. “There you go again.”
She managed the smallest smile through her tears. “I’m trying.”
“Not very hard.”
She looked at him for a long moment. “So are you.”
He didn’t answer because he was right. He had been trying. Trying not to love her. Trying not to need her. Trying not to imagine a future that had her at the centre of it. Trying not to reach for her every time she walked into a room.
He was losing that battle spectacularly.
Taggie’s breathing had finally begun to settle. She hadn’t realised she was still leaning against him. Or that Rupert hadn’t moved away.
She looked up.
He was already looking down at her. Their faces were only inches apart.
Neither spoke. There was nothing left to say.
Rupert lifted one hand and gently tucked a loose strand of damp hair behind her ear. His fingertips lingered against her cheek.
“You’re alright,” he murmured.
She nodded. “Because of you.”
His heart clenched. “No, angel.”
“Yes.”
“You did this.”
“I don’t think I did.”
“You did.”
She smiled faintly. “I only borrowed your courage.”
Rupert’s expression softened completely. “You’ve always had more courage than I ever will.”
A comfortable silence settled among them.
After a beat, Taggie said quietly “I’ve been thinking.”
Rupert groaned. “That usually means trouble.”
She nudged him gently. “I mean it.”
“So do I, Angel”
Another comfortable silence.
Then she spoke. “Were you really that frightened?”
Rupert didn’t answer immediately. He could have lied. It would have been easier. Instead, he picked up a small stone and threw it into the water. It disappeared beneath the current, just like Taggie had in his nightmares.
“Yes.” One word. Honest. Unprotected.
Taggie looked at him. “Because of Rocky?”
Rupert closed his eyes briefly. There it was. The question he’d known would come. He opened them again. “No.”
Her heart skipped. “No?”
He shook his head slowly. “I’ve lost horses before.” He looked out across the water. “It hurts.” A pause. “But you learn.” His voice became quieter. “I realised… I don’t think I could learn to lose you.”
Before he could think better of it, he cupped her face in both hands. There was no urgency or hesitation. Only certainty.
He searched her eyes one last time, silently asking a question he couldn’t quite bring himself to voice. Taggie answered by closing the tiny distance between them.
Their lips met in the gentlest of kisses.
It was soft. Tentative. A kiss filled not with passion, but with relief. With gratitude.
Everything they had both been trying so desperately not to admit pouring into the kiss.
When they finally drew apart, neither moved very far. Rupert rested his forehead against hers and smiled—a small, disbelieving smile that Taggie had never seen before.
“I’ve been wanting to do that for rather a long time,” he confessed quietly.
Taggie let out a watery laugh. “I was beginning to wonder if you ever would.”
He laughed too, the sound warm and genuine, echoing softly through the bluebell woods.
Around them, the afternoon carried on as though nothing extraordinary had happened.
The stream continued on its journey. The sunlight filtered through the trees. Beaver sighed contentedly. Blue stretched out beside Gertrude.
And somewhere, high above the canopy, a blackbird began to sing and for the first time since the storm, the woods felt like home again.