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My fiancée.

I covered her hand with mine.

For a while, neither of us spoke.

Then I ran my thumb slowly over her knuckles. “I think you had me before I ever saw your face, Mouse.”

Her cheek moved against my chest.

“In the dungeon?”

“Aye.”

“That’s an unsettling beginning to a love story.”

“I never promised you conventional.”

“No. You definitely did not.”

I smiled and looked toward the dark windows.

“I remember the orange blossom before I knew anything else about you. Then that water bottle crinkling in your hand because you were trying so hard to keep it steady.”

She went quiet.

“You noticed that?”

“I couldn’t see. I noticed everything I could.”

“I was terrified.”

“I know.”

Her fingers moved slightly beneath mine.

“You were scared shitless and came through that door anyway.”

“I couldn’t leave you down there.”

That was Isabella. She could explain it however she liked. She’d still walked through that door for me.

I brushed my fingers through the damp ends of her hair.

“Mouse never meant weak. You were quiet, clever, and damn near impossible to catch.”

Her mouth curved. “And now apparently it also means a woman who likes having her ass spanked and fucked.”

I laughed.

“I’m still revising the definition.”

After a moment, she traced an idle line over my chest.

“What was that cross called—the St. Andrew’s cross? I was wondering how uncomfortable it actually is.”

I grinned.

She glanced up at me. “Why are you looking at me like that?”