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WpMetadataNoticeLast published Thu, Mar 15, 2018
The monarch with the gloves that reached her elbows and the collar that reached her chin and the dress that reached the floor. The monarch with the icy eyes and the pursed lips and the pale skin. The monarch who barely uttered a word, and when she did, it regarded the proceedings of her country or castle. The monarch who never attended the theater, who never laughed at the feasts, who never danced at the balls.
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He was so devilishly handsome; he was tall with unruly curls with secret promise never to be tamed. The way his clothes clung to his body showed off his exquisite physique, the white collard shirt was tight fitting showing his muscles bulge with every movement he made. What she wouldn't do to reach out right now and feel his skin up against hers again. Feel his soft lips pressed up against hers. She quickly pulled herself away from those thoughts, clearing her throat and lowering her face to hide the blush that was creeping up to her cheeks. 08.03.2016 #79 in Historical Fiction! 08.05.2016 #30 in Historical Fiction!

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