Morning.
Carriage ride.
Critic-Ishire.
**************
As the gentle sway of the carriage rocked her back to consciousness hours into the morning, Lydia's eyes fluttered open, the world around her coming into hazy focus.
The soft creaking of wood and the rhythmic clatter of wheels on cobblestones were the first sensations to greet her. Then a smell she breathed in with a smile.
Her vision slowly cleared, and she found herself nestled in the arms of her husband, Theo, he was the owner of the scent she could never forget.
Slowly her lips drew into a smile as her gaze traced his sharp jawline, her gaze then settled on his nose and it made her blush, that is the part of his body that he uses to sniff her and how she enjoys it. She blinked and the carriage came into view; its interior was dimly lit, with flickering lanterns casting warm, dancing shadows on the polished wooden panels.