Rick stood in the centre of his tent, adjusting the collar of his freshly pressed shirt for the third time.
The dinner preparations were nearly complete, and servants bustled around setting up the intimate table he'd requested.
Tonight had to be perfect. Tonight, he would finally make things right with Emerald.
He caught his reflection in the polished surface of a silver tray and paused, studying the man staring back at him.
When had he become so consumed with pride and control? When had he stopped seeing Emerald as the woman he'd fallen in love with and started treating her like a possession to be won?
"Things used to be so different," he murmured to himself, running his fingers through his hair. "We used to laugh together. She used to smile when she saw me coming."
