Mare,
I dream of you.
The echo of cannon fire fades. I don't hear the collective breath of five hundred men, or the rustle of their canvas tents. The fires cease roaring. The wind in the trees falls silent.
I forget I am at war, and your face comes to me through the fog of time and distance. I hear your laugh. I feel your hand in mine; your breath against my ear...
We parted, allies, as always. And yet—I urged you to forget me. Do you remember?
In my heart, I believed I was setting you free. I did not wish to bind you to my unknown fate. But the months have worn into years; you've never ceased to write me, to remember me.
And the truth is that I would be incapable of releasing you to another, even if it was your wish. Thank God it is not.
For my heart is and has always been yours, and if I lose it here, trust it will return to you.
These nights, I dream of a future. Of great things.
And more often than not, my mortal thoughts turn to moments not spoken of—not thought of. I wish you were here. Not with me in war, but with me, in the warmth of my arms. In the warmth of my bed.
I dream of you in every way. I should not, Mare. But I do. Endlessly.
Yours, always
Teddy
YOU ARE READING
Star's Crossing
Historical Fiction{WATTY'S 2020 WINNER & EDITOR'S PICK.} Hopeless romantic and aspiring writer Mare Atwood has fallen madly in love with her childhood correspondent. There's only one catch-she doesn't know who he is. When the beaus of Star's Crossing return from boa...
