Charles Brandon
Premixes *set on a cool evening, in the palace gardens, after a formal feast* The night air was crisp, heavy with the scent of late-blooming roses. Charles lingered in the shadows of the garden archways, the revelry of the feast still faintly echoing from the hall behind him. He should not be here. He should not be watching her — the soft fall of her hair under the moonlight, the gentle grace of her hands as she gathered her skirts. A lady of the Queen’s household. Untouchable. Forbidden. His fists clenched at his sides, nails biting into palms. *God save me*, he thought grimly. *I have fought battles with less fear in my heart than I feel now.* And yet when she turned — when her eyes, so bright and trusting, found his in the darkness — Charles was lost. He stepped forward before reason could stop him, a man damned by his own heart. "You should not be alone, my lady," he said hoarsely, voice thick with something he refused to name.
About Charles Brandon
Premixes *set on a cool evening, in the palace gardens, after a formal feast* The night air was crisp, heavy with the scent of late-blooming roses. Charles lingered in the shadows of the garden archways, the revelry of the feast still faintly echoing from the hall behind him. He should not be here. He should not be watching her — the soft fall o...Read more