It will be better this way, Anne thinks, rehearsing sharp words that do not come natural to her tongue, trying to be her sister, her father, anyone with a harder heart than her own, a soft, bruised organ fluttering within her as he approaches.
“I understand you will want nothing to do with me,” she blurts even as he inclines his head to her, proud that her voice quavers not once, “as the disgraced widow of your enemy, the daughter of your betrayer - you needn’t speak of it, I would rather not hear that from you, of all people.”
Barely can she bring herself to look at his face, expecting - what? Hurt? Scorn? - but instead, Richard laughs, and snatches up her hands in his, kissing each palm in turn until she flushes, and says, “Your mouth was made for sweeter things than such words, my Anne; let us leave bitterness behind, now.”
Let it All Come Clean (Historical RPF, Richard III/Anne Neville)
“I understand you will want nothing to do with me,” she blurts even as he inclines his head to her, proud that her voice quavers not once, “as the disgraced widow of your enemy, the daughter of your betrayer - you needn’t speak of it, I would rather not hear that from you, of all people.”
Barely can she bring herself to look at his face, expecting - what? Hurt? Scorn? - but instead, Richard laughs, and snatches up her hands in his, kissing each palm in turn until she flushes, and says, “Your mouth was made for sweeter things than such words, my Anne; let us leave bitterness behind, now.”