Joy remained seated on the bench with Sir Fluffington the Second curled peacefully on her lap, his tiny chest rising and falling with each gentle breath.
She stroked his impossibly soft fur with absent-minded tenderness, a serene expression settled across her features that surprised even herself.
When she'd finally pulled back from crying in Cassius's arms, she'd braced herself for the inevitable wave of embarrassment.
She'd expected shame to crash over her, anger at her own weakness, frustration at losing yet another battle to this infuriating man.
She'd literally cried in her enemy's lap—surely that was the ultimate humiliation.
But the shame never came.
Instead, when she'd opened her tear-blurred eyes and found Cassius still gazing down at her with that same gentle expression, she'd felt something entirely unexpected.
Safety.
Complete, enveloping safety, as if the entire world had been wrapped in a warm blanket and she could finally, finally stop worrying.
