Page 41 of Severe Husband Warning

Rothgar bends over another engineering record, reading it for the third time before lifting a hand to rub wearily at the bridge of his nose. The movement is subtle enough that I doubt most people would notice it, yet my eyes keep returning to him.

I used to believe his composure came easily.

After spending the evening watching him sift through maps, reports, and engineering records without allowing himself a moment’s rest, I finally understand what it costs him to bear responsibility for an entire district. Every decision before him reaches farther than I had ever imagined, touching lives he will never know by name.

My hand finds his forearm before I’ve fully considered the gesture.

His gaze lifts from the parchment to meet mine, and the quiet intensity in them steals every word I’d meant to say.

“I believe you,” he says softly.

The simple certainty in his voice warms something deep inside me.

“I know.”

My hand remains where it is, neither of us seeming inclined to break the fragile stillness that has settled over the room.

Maps cover the obsidian desk, filled with forgotten tunnels and hidden spires, every line leading toward answers we have yet to uncover. As I look between the city drawn in silver ink and the man standing beside me, it strikes me that somewhere over the course of the evening we stopped carrying this burden separately.

Somehow, without either of us noticing when it happened, it has become ours.

20

ROTHGAR

Her hand remains on my forearm.

The heat of her palm steadies me more completely than the maps spread across my desk. Moments ago, Galmoleth held all of my attention. It takes only the weight of her hand to draw them elsewhere.

She returned carrying proof I should have uncovered myself, trusting me to see what she had seen. She could have walked away after our first conversation.

But she stayed. I turn my hand beneath hers until our fingers rest lightly against one another.

“Calla,” I say softly and when she looks up, every lingering hesitation dissolves.

My hand rises to her cheek, my thumb grazing warm skin. She leans into the touch, and everything else falls away.

The first kiss is gentle, almost questioning and she answers without hesitation.

“I thought we were going to spend the night buried in maps,” she murmurs against my lips.

“So did I.”

“What changed?”

I smile at that.

“I grew tired of pretending they mattered more than you.”

Her breath catches and before I can question the confession, her fingers slip into my hair, drawing me back into another kiss.

This one steals whatever restraint remains.

The maps crumple beneath our hands as parchment slides across the desk, weeks of careful notes scattering forgotten over polished wood. Neither of us makes any attempt to save them.

I lift her onto the desk, and she steadies herself with one hand against my shoulder before glancing down at the disordered schematics.

“I suspect those took rather a long time to arrange,” she teases softly, her fingers already working at the buttons of my collar.