Quinton followed his love to the stables, enjoying how her hand felt in his. His heart swelled at the sight of her. How had he not seen her this way before? Perhaps his desire for her during their initial little meet cute had happened for reasons beyond his lustful appetites. He longed to make love to her again, far more gently than before. He wanted to hear his name on her lips, wanted to see her writhe under him as he took them both to the plains of pleasure. It would be sweet, and the two would share knowing looks over the dinner table. The image was simple and clear in Quinton’s head. Perhaps he’d marry her, have a gaggle of children.

At the touch of her lips on his cheek, Quinton would try and turn his head and capture her mouth with his own, looping his arms around her waist, “Of course, my love,” he said, voice low and at a purr. He ignored the servants as he did this, not caring if they saw him acting with less decorum than was called for, “Or we could make a bed out of one of the stables…I cannot wait much longer to have you in my arms.”

Scout had followed Honora and Quinton from a distance, a very safe distance. She couldn't hear what they were talking about, but that seemed better than being spotted by either of them. What she could see were the touches between them, which confused her. Quinton was anti-Gifted, and Honora was openly Gifted. She wondered if Honora was using her Gift on the lord.

Scout wouldn't enter the barn. She would stay near the entrance, hidden behind a well-positioned plant. Again, the distance made it difficult to hear properly, but at least she could see what was happening.

[No need to count Scout in on a posting order, I'll respond sporadically!]