He's not so out of practice that he can't talk and paw at her at the same time, one hand toying with a breast through the fabric of her dress, the other pulling her hips close enough to feel the way he's half-hard beneath the leather flies of his trousers.

"I'm sorry." He sounds like he means it. For her to think she had lost her sometimes-lover as well as her family must have been piled on another sorrow she didn't need. He doesn't tell her that it may happen one day, that he had warned her about that very thing. It's not the right time. Right now is for simply reacquainting themselves with each other's bodies.