The Widow's Son: 5. The First Time He Claims Her

It began with silence.

Not the comfortable kind, but the silence heavy with the weight of unsaid things. The kind that stretched and stretched until it threatened to break both of them. Caroline stood by the tall window of the guest room, hands trembling as she clutched the hem of her nightgown. The silk clung to her in the lamplight, sheer where it brushed against the curve of her thighs. Nathaniel had given it to her earlier that evening—an unspoken dare wrapped in soft fabric.

It was a poor shield for the storm raging inside her.

Behind her, the door clicked shut.

Her breath caught, but she didn’t turn. She knew who it was. She had felt his presence before the latch even fell into place.

“I can’t sleep,” Nathaniel said at last. His voice was low, rough at the edges, dangerous in its quietness. “Not with you down the hall. Not after the way you looked at me at dinner. Like you were starving.”

Caroline pressed her palm to the cool pane of glass, trying