"Lady Liliane," Tristan repeated, his voice soft as velvet… if velvet could be poisonous. "Is this… your version of a rescue?"
His gaze fell upon our hands, which were still interlocked like two panicked crabs solemnly swearing allegiance under life-threatening pressure. Oh, these damned hands. They had just changed professions from the hands of an elegant noblewoman to the tools of a heavy-duty kidnapper.
"I... I didn't mean to!" I exclaimed, letting go of his grip as fast as someone who just realized they were holding a live electrical cable. "I did want to run away, but the plan was to run away alone! You… you're just in the wrong place at the wrong time! Like a cameo that overstays its welcome!"
Tristan just stared at me with a flat expression, flat as the royal family's ironing board.
"I truly do not understand what you mean, Lady, but one thing is certain. You are kidnapping me."
