” Sebastian instructed, looking up from his meal. He embraced her small body in his arms, kissing her forehead over and over. ‘We’ll cross that bridge if and when we come to it. He devoured her with his eyes too, his shyness not able to disguise his furtive glances at the curvy outline of her breast against the imitation silk, his memory still exquisitely tortured by her movements in the miniskirt. Reverse psychology or something, it’s like she was trying to draw him nearer by pushing him away. Put him in the stocks, and there let him sleep off his drunken fit. He was braver than her husband, who paced and cowered in the corners of the once-sunny Palazzo. The fire still burned brightly. He neither attempted to prevent his nephew's departure, nor to follow him. His brain reeled.
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