Leonor had realized innumerable times before that Desmond's measure of her state was always through temperature. He would come into a room, feel her, and ask someone to adjust the fire accordingly.
He treated her like an egg that needed occasional turning and constant warmth even if he had to suffer for her to stay warm. Especially when he was still hiding himself away, he wore long sleeves and hoods.
She wanted him to be comfortable as well. That's why she complained less unless he felt she was lying by grabbing her hand or feeling her cheek.
Instead of fighting his insistence to keep her warm, Leonor relented by leaning into him and embracing his care. She felt tired and wanted the pampering that he would give her whether it was met with resistance or not.
The golden strings that kept the front of her dress together were loosened and Desmond deftly pushed the dress off of her shoulders, revealing the top half of her body, tightened with a corset.
