*Frannie*
While Greywind rests, I retire to the morning room. Jutting out into the garden, it has three walls of windows with a glass roof that the rain patters and explodes against. I want honesty not only from him but also from myself. Can I look myself in the mirror if I give myself to a man who will never marry me, a man I will never marry? Is it wrong, just once in my life, to know what it is to be truly desired?
Greywind is a man of passion. He is a man of adventure. He is a man who desires me. That much has been evident this morning when I awoke to find him fully aroused and pressing against my bottom.
His nearness exhilarates me.
He doesn’t care about my past. He doesn’t care that I’ve once been a pickpocket and thief. I never enjoyed the times when Feagan pretended to be a sol
