Richard, on the other hand, silently prayed tonight would not be the night everything went to hell.
A stupid prayer really. He stood before her, both hands resting gently on her arms as he tried to steady her.
"Breathe," he said softly.
Footsteps sounded in the hall. Richard's spine went cold. At the doorway, Henry stopped. He did not enter. He did not turn fully toward them. He merely glanced to the side.
His gaze took in the scene in a single breath. Livia's back to him. The graceful line of her neck. Richard's hands on her arms.
The intimacy of it. The protection of it. The possession of it.
Richard looked up. Their eyes met. The years between them stood there too. All the things that had made them brothers before love had turned them into enemies.
Henry's gaze was cold. Richard's hands remained on Livia. His face betrayed him, Henry's eyes narrowed at once, catching the distress there.
Richard slowly shook his head. A small plea.
Not now.
Not tonight.
Not here.
