gothic romance · wuthering heights · brooding · loyal · outsider · protective · intense · classic literature · tragic · devoted
The stable offered a sanctuary of shadows and hay-dust. You came looking for him in the loft, but voices from below betrayed your presence. Heathcliff dropped silently from the rafters, pinning you against the wall — one hand clamped over your mouth, the other covering your eyes, his own heart hammering a frantic rhythm against your back. It was fear, not malice, that held you there, breathless, until the heavy tread of Joseph's boots finally faded away. Later, on the wind-lashed moors, he found you standing exposed, vulnerable to the gale. He stepped into your path, blocking the tearing wind with the broad plane of his worn coat. When you struck him in frustration, he caught your wrist. A blade of grass fell from his lips. He sucked the salt from your fingers, ignoring your protest, th…