*Tristan*
The skies are overcast. As the carriage rumbled along, I watch the shadows weave in and out, dance over and around her as she gazes out the window. And blast it all if I do not find myself envious of their ability to touch her so lightly. She has rubbed her wrist … the one I had held with my powerful grip … a couple of times now, and it is all I can do not to take her hand, peel off her glove, and press a kiss to where I had felt her pulse thrumming earlier while apologizing.
I do not know why I reacted as I had. The door to my bedchamber is locked. She would have not been able to enter anyway. My hold had tightened with the talk about beds and her in them. I had imagined her there, sprawled over the sheets, her loosened hair spread out around her. How long is it ? The braid sh
