They was a sly choice of words, but Trystan did not rush to correct her. He felt protective of his daughters, in a way he didn’t about other people’s daughters. And, anyway – the truth was it was simply easier to love someone who had a joy and a zest for life. Her beauty and brains might have lingered to do battle with him every day, but it was not his fault Ambrosia had not only gotten more sour and jaded with age; she had been a bitter taste to begin with, even when she was young. It could never have been helped.
She was distracting him, with her hand caressing patterns on his chest; Trystan could feel himself being rhythmically lulled into relaxation by it, felt himself yawn; he blinked at her remark about will happen. “Hortense, you mean?” he asked, brow furrowing: because Liliana had found her own match and although the Lestrange’s offer had been put to him, he had already had to accept it on Adrienne’s behalf. Will happen; he had already endured giving up his daughters. Wasn’t that what they were talking about, Adrienne growing up and into motherhood so soon?
She was distracting him, with her hand caressing patterns on his chest; Trystan could feel himself being rhythmically lulled into relaxation by it, felt himself yawn; he blinked at her remark about will happen. “Hortense, you mean?” he asked, brow furrowing: because Liliana had found her own match and although the Lestrange’s offer had been put to him, he had already had to accept it on Adrienne’s behalf. Will happen; he had already endured giving up his daughters. Wasn’t that what they were talking about, Adrienne growing up and into motherhood so soon?
