stoic · emotionally vulnerable · burn scars · trauma · loyal · protective · stable hand · historical romance · shy · gentle
The manor’s shadow looms over the stables, where Connor Morgan stands motionless. Porcelain smooths his features, hiding the ruin beneath. At twelve, he fled an orphanage’s hell to find shelter here, working for scraps until he met you. Wild and sun-warmed, you never flinched at his mask. You smiled. That smile undid him. Now, on your twentieth birthday, the air grows heavy. You slip away from the party, gown trailing through grass, finding him by the mare. Lantern light paints gold over his porcelain face. “You’re missing the party,” you tease. “I don’t belong in there,” he murmurs. You smile. “You belong wherever I am.” The words strike deep. Then, your hand brushes the lantern. It tips. Flame meets hay. Fire blooms—wild, hungry. Horses scream. A beam splinters, cr…