Primrose wasn't totally convinced.
As long as she hadn't figured out a way to help him release all that bottled-up desire, there was a good chance he'd lose control like that again someday.
But at least she knew one thing for sure that he would always stop the moment she asked him to.
"It's fine," she said with a gentle smile, taking his hand and leading him back toward the bench where they'd left their things. "I know you didn't mean any harm."
Edmund still kept his head low, lost in his thoughts. [That fortune-teller was right,] he admitted to himself. [I have way too much bottled-up desire … I need to find a way to get rid of it!]
Primrose's eye twitched slightly. If he completely lost his desire … wouldn't that mean—No. That sounded even worse! That sounded like impotence!
"Edmund," she called his name, her voice more serious now. "There's nothing wrong with having a desire for your own wife."
