She reached for his hand, their fingers lacing together in the space between them.
“You once told me I deserved more than a man like you.”
He turned toward her fully. “I was wrong.”
Frances smiled faintly. “I know.”
She had loved him once—years ago, when they had been too young to understand what love demanded. Now, as firelight flickered across his face and exhaustion softened his edges, she realized she had never truly stopped.
Outside, the wind picked up again, whistling through the trees. But inside the cottage, they sat side by side, their bodies warm from the fire and from the closeness they had fought against for so long.
Neither spoke of the danger still stalking them. Not tonight. Tonight, they rested in fragile peace—together.
