Lucille

Roman insisted on walking me to my bedchamber. The parlor between our private suites was cool and dim with only embers glowing in the hearth. The temperature didn’t rise as we stepped into my bedchamber. After helping me under the blankets, Roman added more logs to the fire and stoked the flames. When he returned to my side, the room was brighter.

He sat on the edge of my bed. “I’m sorry for dominating the conversation.” ...