Silly me and my expectations. When was I going to learn not to assume anything? Of course it wasn’t my husband who came inside. It was the Guardian. His beard was trimmed close to his jaw and his hair damp, like he’d just had a bath of his own. The collar of his tunic showed a triangle of taut, smooth skin above his heart. His pants molded to strong thighs and draped to scuffed boots. His eyes were that vivid emerald green. He was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.
