Circe and Ragnar climbed into their carriage the moment the ball drew to a close, eager to return home. Ragnar placed a firm, possessive hand at the small of Circe's back as he guided her inside, following only after she was properly seated. Once within the enclosed space, they took seats opposite one another. From that moment on, Ragnar did not take his eyes off her, not even once.
Circe, for her part, attempted to feign innocence. She sat primly, spine straight, hands folded demurely in her lap, the very picture of composure. But the act fooled no one, least of all Ragnar, especially not with the way the corners of her mouth kept twitching upward, betraying a teasing smile she couldn't quite suppress.
