Felicity pressed her eyes closed to hold in her tears. She'd promised to make a show of acceptance and enjoyment, and for Owen's sake she would hold to that promise - and tears would destroy that illusion faster than anything else. She knew not which touch was worse - the father's, so soft as to make a mockery of tenderness, or the son's hard and tight grip winding in her hair.<br/><br/>"L-lucky, m'lord?"