Margaret Tudor (sassy_margaret) wrote in tudorcourt, |
Just as much as he wanted to be alone with her -- she wished for the same. Every so often she peered over her shoulder toward him, her eyes shaded behind her lashes in an attempt to disguise what they would say if their eyes connected for too long. They would betray her and everything she felt.
Her palm turned up as his felt to hers, she grip at his hand as if in literal pain. "I am not, Charles," she took a deep breath as if to settle herself before she went on. "I want to go home," the brat in her emerged -- it was ever present but lately it had taken a forefront since she was being forced to do something she didn't want.