“There was no point in visiting Gwendolen’s bedchamber again, he told himself, over and over. He’d given his word that he would not bed her before marriage, and he’d drunk too much wine tonight. In his present mood, a single moment alone with her could turn him into a liar, or worse. Nevertheless, when sleep continued to elude him, something compelled him to rise. He lit a candle, donned his shirt and tartan, and quietly ventured out of his father’s chamber. He walked through the chilly castle c...orridors toward the East Tower and hesitated there. The torch at the bottom of the stairs had gone out, so he used his candle to light it again, climbed the twisting staircase, and stopped, disconcerted, outside Gwendolen’s door. He felt like a dog that had caught the scent of something juicy and couldn’t resist rummaging around. Reaching into his sporran for the key to her room, he inserted it into the lock, carefully turned it and entered, with the full intention of merely checking on her.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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