*Mirabelle*
I go to bed thinking about the deep crevice between Rhys’s brows. Is it there because he is in constant pain, or is it just because he has a wretched temper? Despite my better judgment, there is something about the ferocity in his eyes and the lines of pain around his mouth that makes me want to taunt him, to make him laugh, to force him to listen to me.
Which is absurd. He is a man who clearly has made the decision to spend his life alone, and from all indications has never thought twice about it.
Still, I keep thinking about his brow and fall asleep imagining a Rhys whose face has smoothed into laughter, a Rhys who isn’t Rhys.
I wake to find that particular brow frowning down at me. “You didn’t even turn over when I clumped my way into your bedchamber, cane and all. I hav
