And somehow, in the shifting manner of dreams, it comes to pass that he is holding both her hands between his palms. His nails are exceptionally long for a man of her time, and they are filed to points.

He caresses her skin, up to her delicate wrists, again turning her hand to expose her palm. His skin is soft, almost too thin, but the musculature beneath is solid as granite. He moves closer to her, bending to place a soft kiss on the mound of her thumb.

"You are so very beautiful," he murmurs quietly, his beard tickling the soft skin of her inner wrist. "If I were your husband, I would never leave you alone. Not for a moment. Even if it were just to watch you across the room. The mere sight of you fills a man's heart to overflowing."