By the morning of the next day, the rain and thunderstorm had stopped, leaving the land damp and wet, with the skies heavy with gray clouds that cast a gloomy shadow over Aragonia. The servants in the Dawson's house had woken up as usual, cleaning the halls before the nobles wake up for their mornings, and wiping the rain that had slipped in through the window gaps from the floor.
Rohan could hear the constant movements of the servants outside Belle's room even in his sleep, and he wrinkled his brows in displeasure at the noise as he opened his eyes. He had not actually given himself the luxury of sleep in a while now, but last night, after he had made love to his wife like that, he had not been able to resist letting himself rest.
Consequences be damned, he would compel anyone who noticed him leaving the room if need be, but the warmth of his wife nestled in his arms was something he wanted to hold while he slept. And the sleep had been wonderful, because he felt light now.
