They were not entirely in plain view of the terrace, sheltered as they were by shadow and foliage, but they were still very much out in the open. Anyone who wandered too far from the path would surely spot them as they were now, lips locked, bodies pressed together. It did not matter that they were married. Intimate displays of affection like this were still frowned upon at reputable events like this one.
Circe seemed to realize this at the same moment he did. Her eyes widened as she broke the kiss, breath uneven.
Ragnar, for his part, could not have cared less about being found kissing his wife. He had endured scrutiny and exaggerated gossip being spread about him for most of his life, it trailed after him like a shadow no matter where he went. But Circe was new to this world, new to its cruelty, and he could not bear the thought of her being dragged deeper into scandal simply because she was tied to him.
