“I did.” His voice cracked and he swallowed hard. “From the beginning, I wanted you. But that first night – you looked at me like I was a monster. You were terrified that I was going to make you…” He broke off, his face tightening.

“And later.” He sighed. “Being around you was the sweetest torture. I wanted to touch you, hold you, kiss you. I wanted all of you.” His shoulders slumped. “But I was afraid of what would happen if I gave in to my desire. If I let myself love you.”

“You were afraid it would break the curse?”

“That was only part of it.” I barely heard him speak his voice was so quiet. “I was afraid… I am afraid of loving you, knowing that someday you will go and leave me here.”

I shuddered, blinking fast to hold back tears. “That’s not how it’s supposed to be.” It certainly wasn’t how I’d imagined it. In my mind’s eye, I had always thought of us gaining freedom together. Walking out into the sun together. But that wasn’t what Tristan envisioned – he saw me leaving on my own and never turning back.

“There were so many things I wanted to show you,” I whispered. “Things you have never seen.”

“What sort of things?” he asked softly.

I thought about it for a moment. “I wanted you to see the world as it changes through the year, not the perpetual sameness it is here.”

“Describe it to me? Tell me about winter.”

I lay back on the silken cushions, closed my eyes, and remembered. “My father’s farm is far enough up the mountain slopes that in winter, the snow can pile so deep that only trees and houses stick out. Tiny flakes of ice fall from the sky and melt on the tip of your tongue. On the most bitterly cold days, the air is at its clearest and you can see for leagues, all around.”

The boat rocked as he shifted, my skirts pressing down against my legs as he knelt over me, his weight pressing my hips into the cushions. The clasp of my cloak opened with a click, the velvet soft against my skin as he pushed it back, baring my shoulders. His fingers trailed over my collarbone, leaving hot flames of desire in their wake. I felt his breath, warm against my throat, and I gasped, my heart beating so hard I was certain he could hear it. “And spring?” he whispered in my ear, his hair brushing softly against my cheek.

A smile curved over my lips. “The days get warmer, bit by bit. The sun shines. The snow starts to melt, and water runs in rivulets down the icicles hanging from the eaves. Bits of green start to poke through the snow and buds form on the tree branches. Then, in what seems like an instant, all the snow is gone and replaced by lush grass greener than any emerald, more vibrant than anything an artist could paint. The rainstorms come, blocking out the sun and turning midday to dusk. Lightning flashes across the sky and thunder echoes across the mountains. The spring rain comes down so hard and heavy that it soaks you to the bone in an instant, and the seas boil with the ferocity of the winds.”