A gleam that wasn't just affection but fire.
His brown eyes shimmered with a daring light, like someone who had just won his sword and armor and now stood ready for the war that Madam Beckett had quietly declared on him.
"Did you even sleep last night?" Clyde asked softly, frowning as he cupped the blond's cheeks—cold, still, from the morning air.
Ryley shook his head, laughing quietly. "Too excited to see our daughter ride her horse," he said, brushing his thumb across Clyde's wrist. "She's still asleep, though. I guess I'll use the time to make her—and you—those burgers you both love."
Clyde's brow creased deeper. "Just rest. Let the servants handle it."
But Ryley only smiled and took Clyde's hands from his face, holding them between his own.
"I'll be back soon," he whispered, before rising on tiptoe to steal another kiss—this one soft, fleeting, and maddeningly sweet.
