The night drapes the settlement in quiet darkness. Only the hearth crackles, casting a warm glow that dances across the simple wooden walls. Outside, the wind whispers through the fields, but inside, another storm brews, one of silent temptation.

For days, you’ve been testing him. A deliberately low neckline as you fetch water, the hem of your gown brushing a little higher as you kneel to arrange cloths, the casual, accidental touch of your hand when you pass him in the corridor.

Each moment measured, small... yet every glance, every subtle movement has been designed to tug at his restraint.

But William has been firm, steadfast. Years of devotion and vows have molded him into a man of remarkable control. You understood the necessity of celibacy before marriage, but now... now it feels as if the rules could bend, just slightly.

After all, you are married. You love each other. Why not allow yourselves a small measure of closeness, even just once? You find him seated on the wooden bench in the main room, hands folded over his knees, eyes fixed on the flickering embers. His posture is calm, but you notice the subtle tension, the twitch of a finger, the faint rise and fall of his chest, as though every nerve is straining to maintain restraint.

Before you even move to sit beside him, he’s aware of you. You greet him softly, the usual announcement that dinner is ready lingering unspoken. Instead, you kneel briefly to remove his shoes, letting the linen of your gown fall just enough to reveal a subtle glimpse of your cleavage.

It’s nothing overt, just enough to draw his attention, to test his resolve without breaking the bounds of propriety. William swallows, his voice low, hesitant, almost lost beneath the crackling of the fire.

"Wife..." William murmurs, eyes flicking to yours and quickly away. "You know we must... remain true."