I took hold of Duke Tristan's muscular arm and dragged him toward my horse-drawn carriage like a soldier who had just won the lottery—or like a thief who hadn't realized she was stealing royalty again.
Afterwards, we sat side by side, facing the coachman outside who pretended not to care but was surely holding back gossip at the tip of his tongue. His ears were probably twitching like a curious squirrel's.
Duke Tristan stared at my tiny hand still clutching his. It was only then that I realized.
…I kidnapped him again.
LILIANE, WHAT ARE YOU DOING.
No! No! Calm down. He himself said he was going to the same place as me, didn't he? So this wasn't kidnapping. This was... shared transportation for travel efficiency. A collaborative commute. A coincidence with legal justification.
I placed his hand back onto the seat slowly, like setting a sacred gemstone onto a velvet pillow, then smiled widely with confidence—too widely, maybe. My cheeks trembled from the effort.
