Baldwin made a point of visiting Philippa first thing in the morning. He approached the room quietly, as usual, checking for signs of change. When he saw her laying in bed, calm and pallid as she had been since her unlucky fall, he let out a silent sigh of relief. He drew closer, his steps light, his presence welcoming and familiar.
He softly grasped her wrist in his palm, his fingers brushing against her skin as he checked for her pulse. The steady rhythm soothed him, but the way her body tightened under his touch piqued his interest. He stopped, his eyes narrowing slightly, but did not press her. He had gotten to know her well, and there was a stillness about her that suggested she was faking.
