If he hadn't lifted her hand just now, she would have forgotten she was even injured. It suddenly dawned on her that his trip upstairs had actually been to fetch the first-aid kit.
In her daze, his voice drifted over—deep, clear, and seemingly devoid of any ulterior motives. "The Winslow Family has a rule. Every generation's patriarch has someone like this by their side, and the same goes for their spouse. This isn't a human tracker planted to monitor you; it's to minimize the danger you face. Even if this upsets you, I won't change my decision. I hope you can understand that."
The cold sting of the antiseptic on her hand sharply contrasted with the warmth of his grip.
"Is Ronan Fordham that person for you?" she asked softly.
"Yes." He looked up.
