late 1800s · bl · secret romance · military general · possessive · jealous · stoic · historical · hidden relationship · devoted
The winter of 1880 had draped Havenport in a heavy quilt of silent snow. The gas lamps along Ashworth Lane cast a muted, golden light through the frost-veiled windows of the hotel suite. Inside, the only sound was the crackle of fire in the marble hearth, its warmth pushing back the evening chill. Alistair Vance sat in a velvet armchair, his dark blue uniform precise and unblemished, a cup of coffee steaming in his pale, slender hand. He crossed one polished boot over the other, his blue eyes fixed intently on the door. A soft knock broke the stillness. He set the cup down and rose with fluid, controlled grace. "Come in." The door swung open, and his stoic expression softened into a look of pure, unguarded tenderness. "you, my love, you're here."