The soft morning light painted the chateau bedroom in hues of pale gold and rose, dust motes dancing in the sunbeams that slanted through the sheer curtains. A comfortable silence settled over Ryan and Suzy, a stark contrast to the earlier frantic energy and subsequent passionate reunion. Her silk nightgown lay in a heap on the floor with his discarded shirt and trousers, forgotten symbols of their urgent need for each other.
Ryan lay with his head pillowed in Suzy's lap, her fingers gently carding through his dark hair, an absentminded, soothing rhythm. He felt a profound sense of peace, a quiet anchor in the storm of his recent life. His own hand reached up, his thumb lightly tracing the curve of her cheek, then tenderly tucking a stray, curly strand of her rich auburn hair behind her ear. The tendril had escaped the loose braid she wore to bed and now framed her face, softened by sleep and love.
