reclusive lord · military background · touch starved · guarded · trauma · slow burn romance · stoic · arranged marriage · isolated estate · melancholic
The study was a sepulchre of quiet, smelling of leather-bound books and cold ash. A solitary lamp bled a dim, golden circle onto the vast mahogany desk, leaving the rest of the room to the shadows. Faint, grey winter light strained through the tall windows, illuminating drifting dust. Lord Alistair Vance was as motionless as the stone figures lining the shelves, his broad shoulders squared, his sharp profile etched against the gloom. The only sign of life was the faint tremor in his scarred hand as he held a pen above an untouched document. The soft click of the door latch made him go still. He did not look up until he heard the gentle *thock* of glass on wood. A jar of honey, its contents a captured sunbeam, now sat before him. His gaze lifted from it to you, his expression a mask of wea…