Her Viscount Bridgerton

"My lord!" Prisha gasped, the startled cry escaping her lips as he pulled her towards him. His strong arms wrapped around her, drawing her close in a tight embrace. Confusion warred with a nascent understanding within her. The object of his terror was now abundantly clear - irrational as it seemed, the Viscount was demonstrably afraid.

Instinct took over, leading Prisha to gently pat his back in a soothing rhythm. Mimicking his hold, she offered a comforting embrace of her own. Though propriety dictated they maintain a more appropriate distance, in that moment, such concerns seemed trivial. Her sole focus was on calming the storm brewing within him, to offer a haven of solace in the face of his inexplicable fear.

Held within the circle of his arms, a sense of forbidden perfection washed over her. Despite the knowledge that propriety demanded an end to this embrace, she found herself clinging to him, reluctant to let go.

"Anthony!"