The aching would remain for some time; he could tell. But he would have happily taken twice the hurt for the stolen moments of his mouth against her skin, the warmth of her close enough to blend into his own, the fragrance of her rolling across him... Twice and again, he would have taken it. When her blind faith in him spoke for her, an entirely different pain filled him, sweet and sharp and true, as his chest swelled with unreasonable pride. He wished it were the case. He would have made it the case, if it were a matter of his will alone. But he knew, despite her declaration, that the only safe place for her was within his manor. Or with him.
His attention turned away from his own thoughts when she touched her ring. He pressed his pain-stiffened lips into a questioning smile. "What is it that you're thinking, there?" he asked her quizzically. He wanted to draw her hand back to him again, set it against his cheek again, feel her touch -- but it was unwise. It was unwise.