Foxglove

As Blythe raised her mallet back, it swung from her grip and struck Fate between the legs.

“I am not a man who begs, but I am begging now for you to listen to me. I am begging you to think, Miss Farrow. To think about what it is that you want. Are you happy to spend the rest of your life surrounded by death? By pain and grief?”

, I have not seen him since the year 1346, when I killed the only woman that Fate has ever loved.

“Byron did not speak on my behalf.”

“You are my world, Signa Farrow.”

Blythe realized what was happening the second before he kissed her.

“On the contrary, I believe I’ve just fulfilled an oath. Are you not proud of your wife’s cleverness?”

Fate’s nostrils flared. “You are not my wife.”

“Don’t worry, darling.” Blythe laid a kiss upon his cheek, leaving a press of rouge. “You’ll have the rest of your life to make it up to me.”

It was official, then. They were engaged.

“Tell her that I miss her.”