"Anywhere you go, I carry you."
The evening air was cool, brushing against her cheeks like silk, but in his arms she felt nothing but steady, fierce, and consuming warmth. His warmth. She could feel the power in him, in the way his chest rose against hers and the surety of his hold, as if the very idea of her falling was inconceivable. Her heart stumbled against his, caught in a sweet, aching rhythm that left her dizzy.
Lorraine tilted her head up to look at him. The golden evening light spilled over his features, catching on the sharp cut of his jaw, softening at the faint curve of his smile. In that moment, he wasn't the calculating warrior prince, the man who bore the weight of a nation on his shoulders. He was simply her husband, the man who loved her with a quiet, consuming intensity that stole her breath away.
"Why do you do this?" she whispered, almost afraid to break the spell that wrapped around them like a fragile cocoon.
