Thérèse watched as he inspected her finger, pouting as he listed her various clumsy episodes. She knew she lacked a certain finesse, and it had been her utter downfall at Versailles, where grace and total gentility were of the utmost importance. She was about to murmur something quite put out, when kissed her finger, and all upset thoughts disappeared. Her stomach did a backflip and she looked up to meet his eyes, swallowing.
"I like to think so," She murmured, her finger lingering against his lips. The feel of them against her skin was something she wanted to remember, and she found herself absentmindedly tracing the outline, before she caught herself and stopped.