*Frannie*
Dressed in one of Evangeline’s nightgowns, I sit at the vanity, brushing out my hair. A hundred strokes. It was one of Feagan’s rules. I often wonder if a she-wolf in his life brushed out her hair for him. Did he love her? Did she love him? He’s so secretive about his past. But tonight, I don’t want to reflect on where I’ve come from. I’m interested only in where I might be going.
Sterling said good night to me at the bedchamber door, giving the impression that he truly meant good night. He will not come to this room. He won’t come for me.
The choice as to whether or not we’ll ever lie together is mine… because he will never marry me, and so he is leaving the decision to me. I meet my gaze in the reflection in the mirror. To willingly go to a man who will not make an honest sh
