PENELOPE’S CHEEK CHAFFEDagainst the coat she’d made for her husband.
Her husband.
She was glad of the darkness. Glad of the wind.
The first hid her tears, the last dried them. The steady rhythm of the horse’s hooves drummed out her fears. She resolved to hold Cheverley close, leaving questions for another time.
For now, she would seize sensation.
They flew over the field. Each time Chev’s horse jumped she made a sound of unfettered joy. Each time, Chev answered with a low-bellied laugh.
His laugh. Sweet mercy, his laugh.
His laugh had always run though her like a spring—fresh and deep and cleansing. Her fingers bit into his ribs, wanting to clutch him so close, she’d never lose him again.
But such ownership was impossible. Hearts were but borrowed things, never belonging fully to anyone but the one in whom they were born.
She wiped her cheeks against his coat.
They’d spent so many nights apart, had matured living vastly different lives. But hadn’t there always been a vast difference between them?
Could they face adult fears with adult wounds and without the trusting openness of youth?
The world could wound in so many ways. Every human heart held emptiness and light, just as sure as the heavens held blank spaces and stars.
She dried her eyes as they approached an outcropping of stone that marked the beginning of the cliffs that spilled to the sea. If any tears remained, he would know she knew he was Cheverley, that she was now certain.
As it was, she wasn’t sure she could keep the knowledge from her face.
But he hadn’t told her. Not yet. And Chev never did anything on a whim. Every decision was calculated. Every choice carefully parsed.
If he’d come home in disguise, he must have good reason.
He slowed the horse. She leaned back, allowing him to dismount, marveling at his ease. His injury had changed him, yes, but his new body had found a rhythm all his own. She had no doubt she’d fail to notice, in time.
Time. Years.Oh, heavens.They would haveyearsahead of them. Years of nights, of moonlit rides, butyears.Together.
She moved to dismount on her own.
“Now, please,” he chided. “Don’t you trust me?”
She did. Enough to continue with this ruse.For now.
“Place your right arm around my neck, and your left on my shoulder.
She did. He scooped up her legs with his left arm and held her up with the crook of his right. If she hadn’t held him tightly, she might have rolled from his grasp, but together, they managed a reasonably steady dismount.
She let her arms slide from his neck, but she kept her hand against the top of his shoulder.
“You can move to the other side.”
His uninjured side.
“There’s no need. I’m—I am—” She placed a shaking hand over her mouth, unable to say the word fine.
“Oh—oh,” he soothed. “Did I frighten you? I am sorry. I should not have gone so fast.”
She shook her head. “The ride was beautiful. It’s just that... It’s just that I feel—
