First Impressions [Faeldor]

[Gilwen]

The answer he gave her at first seemed to be a half-truth, and had Gilwen the energy, she would have frowned slightly. Though, it seemed the man knew it as well, and shortly continued with the rest of it. She had known that the evening's events would surely bother him; he was too kind of a man to sit by and let anyone be hurt that way, Gilwen was sure.

For a moment, she thought it had been wrong to inquire as to his feelings at the moment, for it looked as if the anger he had felt would rise again, and she wished him not to feel so irate--he hated it so. Though, the minute he touched her cheek she released all her earlier qualms.

As he traced her skin, she closed her eyes. Then, her head was laid back against his shoulder. How shielded she felt right there in that moment she could never have described. She moved her hand back to his chest and sighed. Her shaking had finally stopped. It was as if she knew that there was no where that she would be safer from harm or ridicule, and as Faeldor spoke again, she listened, letting his voice soothe her further.

He was speaking lovely things to her, as he always had, and called her a treasure once more. It seemed strange, to Gilwen. He thought her such a treasure, and through her eyes it seemed that he was the one that was truly grand. Though nothing could have prepared her for the words he spoke following.

"All you need do is stay right here.” His tongue was well loosened by the wine, Gilwen was sure. Though she could feel no falsity in him. Her heart warmed, and she smiled slightly, and nestled against him all the more. Gilwen had not the faintest idea where her own civilities had gone. The feeling she had as she was there against Faeldor in that way, was in no way something that would have come from a proper courting. It felt right, like there was nothing about it that was improper in the least. Like she belonged with him.

He must have felt similar, Gilwen mused to herself. Otherwise, what would keep him holding her this way, and caressing her so? She finally relaxed, some tension leaving from her shoulders. She did not wish to respond to him vocally. It would ruin this moment, that the Valar seemed to have been working them toward the entire evening.

[Faeldor]

“Do tell me if I ever step out of my out of my bound in my affections, Gilwen, for I adore you very much, and would not wish to cause uneasiness in any way,” Faeldor finally said gently, after they had been sitting so for quite a time. He only said such for the sake of decency. But yet, he had no fear that the lady was uncomfortable at this moment though, for the entire time they sat so close, she had only brought herself closer, and the tautness of her shoulders had lessened. Her breathing and pulse had slowed to normal, and she neither sobbed nor shook no more. The salty tears had dried upon her face. He continued to hold her now, perhaps, for the sake of his own comfort.

Faeldor was no judge of the hour, but the fire had burned low since they had danced, and the room, though lit by candle in the corners was dimmer. He had asked to sit with her for some minutes, but it had certainly been many more than just ‘some’ minutes. Her parents would expect her back late anyhow, would they not? And surely if such trouble had not happened, the young children may have been already put to bed, but Grandfather would still be playing music, and they would still be dancing at this time.

It seemed that he had not even realized when Beleth silently made her way down the stone stair in her soft dancing slippers, from putting Haliel to bed, and seeing the two still in the room alone, quietly snuck from the doorway back to the hall to still her mother before she came in and interrupted, or sent the other children through to their own rooms. But Meleth had already known as well, for soon after she had left to get a cloth to help with the futile state of Gilwen’s dress, she had come back to see the woman crying on the floor, and Faeldor kneeling beside her. It was best to let them be now, she thought.

Eventually, the man’s gentle touches were stilled, and he sat motionless, though with a strong hand still delicately holding her pretty head against his shoulder. At this moment, Faeldor seemed to realize that tonight’s troubles were only fleeting, and that a day would come when he might sit before the fireplace each and every evening with this woman as she was now. With such feelings as he had for her, it surely could never be otherwise.

He smiled, keeping his thoughts to himself, for it would surely take awhile; yet, he knew the lady would be ultimately willing in the fullness of time. Perhaps it would take a long time, but he would look after her, and her parents as much as they needed him to. She was sweet and gentle, and needed to be loved as much as he needed to love her. What an interesting and pleasing surprise in his life; as simple as mistakenly bumping into a quiet servant as she went about her duty in the palace. He was certainly glad that she had mentioned her love for horses and her visits to the stables, or perhaps he might have never seen her again.

[Gilwen]

It was silent now that the room was devoid of the rest of Faeldor's family. There was nothing more than the sound of the fire as it burned itself into exhaustion, Gilwen's own breathing, and that breath which came from Faeldor. In the expanse of the silence, Gilwen found herself free from worry, finding a solace in the absence of words.

It by no means meant that she had forgotten the hurtful exchanges and devious plans that Miriel and Rosiel had plagued her with all evening, but simply that she knew here no more would come. She closed her eyes, and let the 'few moments' that Faeldor promised her with him stretch on.

Her parents would likely expect her to come home late. Her mother, she imagined, would be ready to intercept her at the door and inquire as to how it had gone. If staying here, with him, meant avoiding that conversation a bit longer, she would gladly let him hold her. Though, Gilwen knew that in her heart that was simply a veil to mask her own desires.

“Do tell me if I ever step out of my out of my bound in my affections, Gilwen, for I adore you very much, and would not wish to cause uneasiness in any way,” Gilwen smiled slightly and opened her eyes again. "If ever you do, Faeldor, you shall know it." If ever she felt apprehensive with the way a man treated her, she would most certainly not stay silent. She could not even imagine Faeldor doing something of the like. He kept ahold of himself well.

They fell silent once more, but it was not uneasy in any form. She thought she saw Beleth sneak down the stairs again, and leave the room empty once more. As a woman, Gilwen should have blushed, or been embarrassed as to what she had seen of her affections to Faeldor, though to her surprise, she felt neither. Her nerves had been so tested and tried! It was not really unreasonable to think that her bashfulness had taken leave of her a while.

The soft caresses finally stopped, though he never loosened his hold of her or bade her move. So move she did not. She simply closed her eyes once more, and attempted to fully clear her mind. Perhaps it had not been so horrible, after all. If Faeldor could hear the worst things about her and still care for her like this, there seemed no reason she should ever doubt his affections.

In one night, perhaps Gilwen had grown more than she had her entire life. To think, no, to know that one could still adore her, even if she thought herself far below them in all accounts...that had truly been a lesson she had needed. "It does not seem to have turned out too terribly," she whispered. The sound of her voice startled her slightly. She had not fully intended to speak those words to any but herself. Still, they were audible, and in no way hurtful or otherwise. There was no reason for her to get embarrassed by them, she concluded and merely returned to her silence.

[Faeldor]

"It does not seem to have turned out too terribly." Perhaps they had been sitting for an hour, maybe even closer to two. Most of it in contented silence and warmth. Then Gilwen had spoken ever so softly. “No… it has not,” Faeldor said, a soft smile still on his face, lightly squeezing the woman, and resuming the ministrations of his hands in her silky hair.

Finally, when just a light glow was coming from the fire, Meleth could wait no longer to send the children to bed for they were up far too late, and sleepy-eyed. She entered the room, making sure her footsteps were heard before they got there, and then ushered them up the stairs. Both children looked on their brother for a moment, but then took no further heed and put themselves to bed. Meleth stood for a moment in the doorway, looking both to her son, and to Gilwen. She pitied the young woman for what she had been put through in this, her own household! But Faeldor, she was proud of, for he was such a gentle man. By the way he held the woman, she knew that he had deep feelings for her. But she had already known as such by the way he spoke and sung of her about the house. She was glad though, for Faeldor needed such a comfort in his life as this sweet woman.

Meleth approached the couple slowly, and as she did so her face was kind, though still sorrowful. Faeldor loosed his grip on Gilwen slightly, allowing her to sit up, but not urging her to go, though did nothing more than slide over in the large armchair and let her slide next to him in the seat. They were still as close, and one arm was still securely around her and drawing her against his side, but he would not have Gilwen embarrassed over such, when his mother simply wished to express her condolences. Gilwen should know that neither of them had any need to be uneasy in the eyes of his mother.

Meleth reached them, ad began to speak. “Gilwen, I do apologize for such the greeting that you were given this night,” Meleth started. “It was not my intention to have you feel an unwelcome guest in our home. You truly are well liked and welcome here as often as you wish. I do sincerely apologize for my own daughter; I did not raise her as such a woman that she has turned out.”

The woman held a medium sized, glass jar in her hand, the color of bright sapphire. It was finely embossed, and it was a gift for Gilwen that she had meant to give to her at the end of her evening here. But such as things turned out differently, so did this. “It’s a cream I’ve made… rosemary and mint. If you do put it on after work it will help to sooth those hands of yours, and I do believe that mine are softer by the use of it,” she smiled slightly. Faeldor had of course told his mother about Gilwen’s nervous nature with her hands, and requested such for her, and Meleth had eagerly obliged to do something for the lady who seemed to bring joy to her son.

[Gilwen]

Gilwen was squeezed lightly, and she smiled a bit more. At least he seemed to have relaxed. He surely deserved it: to be so tried on his patience. His fingers began to finger her hair once more. It lulled her, bringing Gilwen into even more of a relaxed state of mind. It felt like a dream. To just be watching the light wane from the fire until it was merely a glow of embers.

Pointed footsteps echoed in the hallway before the young children were paraded up the staircase. She saw their glances, though they seemed too tired to react in anyway. It was all the better that way, perhaps. If they had made any sort of recognition to the state she presented herself in, a womanly shame would have come over her certainly. They were just children, after all, and could easily misconstrue her actions with their brother.

Meleth approached, and momentarily Gilwen did feel some sort of heat in her cheeks. Perhaps she was not so fraught anymore to ignore her honor entirely. She had certainly heard Miriel call her a harlot about the house, and the display she was giving could very well prove her daughter right, if she wished it to. Though a quick glance at Faeldor's face immediately told her there was nothing for her to be so worried over.

Faeldor shifted, and she easily fit beside him in the large chair. Though, it had been large enough of a chair that even if she had not been so petite she would have slid right into place. He drew her close still, and his comforting hold made her forget her frets over her presentation altogether.

“Gilwen, I do apologize for such the greeting that you were given this night,” Meleth began speaking to her. Gilwen's mouth opened as if she was going to assure Meleth that she was not at all to blame for any of the evening's events, though she had to hold her tongue for a moment as the woman finished.

"I found this house quite warm, indeed." Gilwen responded. It might have been a bit of an exaggeration, but the young woman was overall quite happy with Faeldor's family. All of them had accepted her immediately, and had striven to make sure that she knew it, as well.

A jar of the most beautiful blue was extended to her, and Gilwen grasped it nervously. It was always something the woman fretted over. Gift-receiving was not something her family did well at all. Though, very few of those on the third tier did. Perhaps it was pride. At least that was what it was with her father. Help could not be given to him because he was certain he could provide for his own family.

For Gilwen, though, it was simply a feeling of gratitude that she did not know how to express. "If you do put it on after work it will help to sooth those hands of yours, and I do believe that mine are softer by the use of it." The girl blushed, though thankfully gazed up Meleth. Her eyes said more than her words ever could.

"Thank you, my lady."

It did not seem to do it justice. Meleth had just handed over a gift that could take away, or at least make softer, the hands which felt more aged than her own mother's. Though, she knew no other words! She prayed she was in no way offensive to Meleth. This was incredibly kind of her.

[Faeldor]

“You are very welcome, dear,” Meleth answered the woman kindly, glad that she had accepted the gift. She seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then smiled more assuredly, and leaned down to kiss Gilwen atop her pretty head. Then she let herself go, and embraced her tightly about the shoulders. “Goodness, you are a lovely girl, you will be gladly welcomed in our family… or, I do mean… by our family,” she caught herself, then smiled, kissing her once more. She was allowed a motherly affection, was she not?


“And remember, that I should like to see you in my Bakery more often, it is rather warm as well,” she said, leaning closely to the girl with her hand upon Gilwen’s cheek. Meleth then slowly rose again, and looked to Faeldor, a joyous smile on her face now. “I will be off to bed now, dear,” she told him, with the same endearing tone that she had spoken to Gilwen. She now leaned to kiss Faeldor upon the cheek. “Goodnight, Mother,” he said.


Meleth smiled once more, with conviction, and turned to leave the room, her dress swishing a bit with the lightness of her step.


Faeldor watched his mother go, then looked back to Gilwen, his grey eyes held the familiar glint that they usually possessed. The past time had calmed him greatly; and aside he wondered where Miriel had went, though, he was slightly glad that he did not know, because it meant that she was not in close proximity. Probably to walk her drunken friend home, he thought pointedly. Keeping his face from the frown that the thought of Rosiel urged on him, he thought again of his mother’s pointed slip in speech. Had she said such on purpose? Or was it truly an accident?


The man almost brought himself to laugh; it seemed that his mother had certainly seen how taken he was with Gilwen. Certainly the modest woman was embarrassed. He chuckled slightly, reaching for Gilwen’s hands. “Might I?” he asked, offering to open the jar. He would like to take his own opportunity to warm and sooth her hands with it.

[Gilwen]

After she had taken the gift, it seemed that Meleth had the mind to do something, though she fought it. Gilwen was surprised, by the way the family acted, that she refrained. She got a kiss from her, and smiled. Meleth was proving to be akin to her own dear Niniel. Though, it seemed that was not entirely what Meleth had been seeking to do. As she threw her arms about the young woman, Gilwen smiled all the more. This woman was so kind and warm! No wonder most of her children had turned out so lovely. “Goodness, you are a lovely girl, you will be gladly welcomed in our family… or, I do mean… by our family."

Color drained for her cheeks, and Gilwen's eyes widened for the few seconds that Meleth had miscalculated her words. Was it a miscalculation? Or was Meleth more like her dear Mama then she had guessed? She didn't have too much time to think on the matter, a second motherly kiss broke her reasoning.

She spoke as to how she would much like to see the girl in the bakery more often. "Of course, I shall be happy to visit." She replaced her stunned expression with another smile. Meleth bade them both goodnight, though at that point, Gilwen was still at a loss for words. Her mind had returned to her earlier musings.

A warm chuckle, and then her hands were grasped. “Might I?” She looked down to the jar and then to him once more. She smiled, which was probably enough of an answer, though she nodded and added, "You may," in words. Her heart quickened slightly at the thought of her hands being soft.

Oh, Gilwen. You should not get your hopes up. The lye is sure to counteract it. She carefully measured to herself. She did not wish to be terribly disappointed if it happened to not work. But she trusted Meleth. If anything it would help, and that was enough for her at the moment.

[Faeldor]

“Mother is quite subtle, do not mind her,” Faeldor tried to comfort her, as if he noticed a perplexed look come across Gilwen’s eyes. His mother certainly had her own thoughts, and the man was not sure of them at the moment, but she would surely let him know when she had the chance, he was sure. He would be glad to hear her praise of Gilwen, for it would certainly be praise. He laughed to himself.

Gilwen had agreed that he might open the jar, but first he took a moment to press her hands. “I do not think you unlovely because of your hands. I only wish you comfort in them,” He lifted her hand and held it against his own cheek for a moment. Then he released her hands for the moment as he opened the jar. The cool scent of mint and rosemary filled the room, and it soothing enough in itself, even to Faeldor, for it seemed at once that it covered the flowery fragrance of Rosiel that Faeldor could not rid himself of. It gave him some relief.

He poured a small amount of the cream into his own palm, then took Gilwen’s hand again, and began to work his fingers over hers, slowly and gently as he went. He was glad for the chance to do so. He took care with each finger, from tip to palm, in between, and on her knuckles. She worked hard with those strong hands, and being a man who worked with his hands as well, understood the relief that such a touch could bring. Beleth would often do the same for him after he had a tiring day.

As the man worked from fingertip to wrist, he pushed her sleeve up just slightly so that he might lay a kiss against her wrist, all the while stroking the tender part of her palm, where the senses were the finest. As he finished the first, he kissed her wrist once more and took her other calloused hand, to perform the same ministrations.


Though rough, her hands still seemed delicate and small, and the oils softened them. Hard working, strong hands; they were nothing to be ashamed of. Not at all.

[Gilwen]

Subtle? Gilwen thought with a laugh. That was anything but subtle, she mused. Especially if she had meant that in the way her mother surely would have. He pressed her hands, and a somewhat serious look came over Faeldor's face for a moment as he lifted one of her hands and placed it against his cheek. His words were once more perfectly chosen.

She tried to find words to reply with, though her mind could come up with nothing to say in return. Her heart simply felt full of contentment. For a moment she studied him, and as he released her hands to open the jar she wondered exactly how she had gone so long without knowing him. All of those wasted years.

The jar was opened, and Gilwen breathed in the lovely scent of the mint. It was light, and seemed to relax both she and Faeldor a bit more. Then, Faeldor's strong hands began to work the lotion onto her hand, and immediately she seemed to be soothed. She sighed, and closed her eyes with a smile, just letting him bring her comfort through the gentle handling of her hand.

She felt a kiss on her wrist and she opened her eyes to look at Faeldor, and smiled. He kissed her wrist again, and set to work on her second hand. She did not close her eyes this time, but watched him, dropping her finished hand into her lap. His hand were large, though he was a tall man. It seemed that they engulfed her own---and he had such a tender touch.

She lost herself there, for a moment, and as he seemed to finish with the other hand, she took her free one and laid it over his. "Thank you," she murmured. "For everything tonight."

[Faeldor]

Faeldor thought for a moment to protest, for it seemed that he should apologize more for the foul things, then to receive thanks for the fair. But Gilwen was smiling, and he wished not to remind her of such things if she had for the moment put them aside. To see how her face had been transformed into that beautiful smile, from earlier tears; the lines of them still drawn in her face, though the corners of her lips were no longer frowning. Her hand had covered his, so he leaned down to kiss the wrist of the hand which he had finished. “You are very welcome,” he responded momentarily.

“Beautiful Starlight, how do they feel?” he asked her simply. She would be the judge. They felt lovely to him anyhow, and although only rest and time could heal the lye stung hands, and it would not stop them from being burned daily, it could at least take the discomfort from her when administered, and help her to feel more lovely of herself. There was no need for her to ever be distressed for lack of beauty, for she held a great deal of it, and not only in her pretty features, but her charming demeanor.

It seemed that Gilwen was absolutely relaxed, and he wondered at if she might fall asleep right next to him in the chair. “Lovely, shall it be time I take you home?” he asked the woman, though as he said so, his arms encircled her fully again, and he seemed to have regained his fondness for kissing her, for he pressed three kisses to the side of her sweet face. Tomorrow, perhaps, he would think back on this and consider himself impetuous. He assumed that all his wine was making him quite impulsive, though perhaps it was only in partiality, for he would have wished to do the same if he had not been thus intoxicated by it. He may as well make the most of it now though, for she was so near and happy, and two more kissed made their way to her cheek, along with another upon her jaw, before he had to finally tilt back his head and let himself breathe for a time to calm his own brash behavior.

[Gilwen]

It took him a moment to respond, though her smile did not change or falter. He punctuated his reply with another kiss to her wrist, though this time it was on her other. Gilwen's smile simply widened slightly and she giggled softly. She had never thought she could feel this important to anyone, aside from her dear Mama and Papa.

With just about everything Faeldor did, however, the woman could tell she was indeed esteemed by him. It was a strange feeling, but it was one she was sure she could get used to. “Beautiful Starlight, how do they feel?” The fated question had finally been asked. Gilwen looked at them, for a moment, before touching her fingertips to her palms. It was nowhere near perfect, but it was improved, and she was glad for it. "They are better," she stated, raising her eyes back to his.

This had been the perfect end to her night. The happenings of before seemed very far away indeed, and would only return to her forethought when she returned home---questions would surely be asked. She would not let that trouble her just yet. Even as Faeldor asked if was time to return her home, she comforted herself in the thought of having a bit of a walk before she would be at her doorstep.

She was about to respond, but felt his arms snake about her once more, and laughed softly as he kissed her three times. Clearly, the longer they sat together, the more the wine seemed to catch up with him. She did not mind in the least, and in fact clung to his tunic in much of the same fashion.

Her heart had skipped a beat and she blushed wildly as she felt his lips against her jaw. Gilwen knew that if he continued much longer, Faeldor would be distraught when the wine had finally left to all of his senses and he regretted his boldness. Still, she had to say nothing, for he restrained himself with his next breath.

She offered him a smile, and finally said, "Yes, I do think it is time for me to return home." She raised her hand and touched his cheek softly for a moment, before tracing his jaw to his chin, and returning her hand to her person quickly. It seemed to be an audacious gesture, and Gilwen felt as if she had been too bold. She hadn't the same excuse as Faeldor, either. She had hardly consumed half a glass of wine in all the evening. It had simply been she, loosing mind of herself. She blushed a bit darker and looked away.

Yes, it did appear to be time to head home.

[Faeldor]

The man about ready to stand, when he was surprised at the Gilwen’s touch upon his face. He was not upset by it in the least though, and smiled gently to her, watching her eyes until she finally blushed and averted her gaze. Women were well expected to restrain themselves from such gestures in such circumstances. Rosiel had been excessively bold, but with Gilwen, he liked this. If she were to return his own gestures, it was certain that she did not disapprove of them. He thought, the only likely thing to hold her back was her own modest nature.

With that, he gave the woman her own moment, and finally released her, standing up from the seat, and then with a bow, and a kiss to the palm of the hand that he had taken, they might be ready to proceed. He looked to the sapphire jar and picked it up from it’s place, that he might carry it to her home for her. Then he beamed at her, adoring the rosy coloring that her cheeks had taken, though he would not say such out loud.

“Shall we walk slowly, my Gilwen?” he asked the woman, his words claiming her as his very own. He pondered his gladness at the fact that she lived so far down on the third tier. All the more time that they might have before they must part and have another day’s work ahead of them.

[Gilwen]

His arms, much to Gilwen's disappointment, left her, and she stood. It was getting late, and she would still have to recall the night's events to her dear mother, before heading off to sleep. And then be at the palace early tomorrow. Faeldor had scooped up the jar, and then turned to smile at her, to which she readily returned one of her own. Though, the color was still lingering on her face.

"Shall we walk slowly, my Gilwen?” A single word in that sentence brought Gilwen the most joy she had felt that night, though she did her best to mind her appearance and showed no sign of the utter thrill it gave her. To be claimed by such a man was, she imagined, every woman's dream. Yet her name had followed the claim, and no other's,

"As slow as it please you," she responded brightly. Gilwen hoped that he would pick a slower pace, though to not seem unladylike, she worded it so that it was his choice--she would be thrilled either way, though. To have someone walk her home at this hour was a blessing. The walk home would be just as wonderful as sitting here, for at this hour the only Gondorians outside of their homes would be tucking themselves away in the taverns of the lower levels, and very few indeed would be out and about.

With that in mind, Gilwen began to move across the room, chancing a glance at her dress. The red wine had stained, quite thoroughly, her bodice, though the skirts were not spared either. She will notice immediately. She told herself, thinking fleetingly of Niniel. She did not expect it to be any other way, though she had hoped that perhaps the stain could be hidden for the first few moments she was home.

She turned to look at Faeldor, though, and the thoughts passed away completely. She would simply have to deal with it when she arrived home, no earlier. It would do no good to dwell. Not when things were going so wonderfully here.

[Faeldor]

"As slow as it please you." “Then it would please me to linger with you,” Faeldor answered outright, as he took the woman’s hand. She had not seemed to wish quickly departing and reaching her home. Certainly her parents would be waiting up for her, and would wish to hear of the evening. He almost frowned at the thought, that she must tell them how it truly went. The dancing was nice, the little girls and his grandparents adored her, Beleth had surely found a new friend, and this last part, when they were alone, had been the best. She would also speak of the meal though, and certainly Miriel’s comments to her. Hopefully she would not mention Rosiel, for even though her words would certainly be sweet and true, he did not wish Gilwen’s parents to think that the man had affections for another woman, by any means. And they would see her dress right off.

“I am sorry about your dress,” the man said tentatively to Gilwen, as she seemed to glance at it. It was a pity to see something she looked so lovely in ruined, and Faeldor imagined that the lady did not have many lovely things to wear as his own family did. He had never asked the lady of her family income, for that would be highly inappropriate, but he had a sense that they struggled slightly. Even with the long hours that Gilwen put into her labor, her father still had to work, and her mother worked on the side as well.

Gondorians were a proud people, and as such, the poorer families did not tend to identify themselves as such, and were not apt to receive assistance without embarrassment. Faeldor could have easily offered to pay for a new dress for the lady. It would not have even put a dent in his income. But offering such at the time may have been highly humiliating for Gilwen. The offer would have been surely denied instantly.

But would it be humiliating to offer her such as a gift of his own affections? He thought for a moment on the dressmaker’s shop that he had visited with his sister. The woman, Arien, did exquisite work, and would surely make a lovely dress for Gilwen. He would see what he might come up with, with the help of his sister Beleth or his mother. They could surely find a way to get her measurements to the dressmaker; and then, well, he would have occasion to invite the woman to a real ball. She was so fond of dancing, it seemed.

Faeldor tried to keep his face straight in his thoughts, and shortly after he asked the question, he simply walked toward her to take her hand and place it right where it belonged in the crook of his arm, once again bringing them close, though, appropriate enough to leave the safety of the sitting room as such. For a moment, he mused on missing the softness of the woman upon his lap and in his arms. For all the good and the bad of it; he would certainly never forget this night.