Wheeling Gull Isle rankova

when bartholomew spoke his voice resonated in her ears as it had always. her arms tightened around him, not with possession but with affection.
he said these things against her skin and though they were holy things, words of love and of god and of remaining, all she could wonder was whether or not he could feel her heart racing, shuddering between them like a trapped bird.
bartholomew asked to stay. she could not look at him; heda was afraid she would see resignation where there was none in his voice.
"i never wanted you to go," she murmured into his lovely soft fur. "i want you to stay but i don't want you to resent me if you do." what about kacia, what about —
but heda pulled her mind away and kept close, fighting more tears, listening for what else he was going to say.
and trying so hard not to dream.