The room felt larger once she was gone.
The wine-red dress lay alone now, neat and ready. Emma lifted it and draped it over the chair, then set the grey one aside without regret. She unhooked her day dress and let it slide down to the floor. A rush of evening air kissed her shoulders.
She stood like that for a moment and listened to the noises of the castle, just like she always did when she was alone. She could hear faint voices in the far passageway. Perhaps the guards were making a few more changes before retiring for the night.
She pulled the wine-red dress over her head and worked it down. The fabric moved easily. When she reached back for the laces, the door creaked open, and Ava poked her head in.
“I said I would send Lara,” she said, already crossing toward her. “Well, I might as well do it meself.”
Emma opened her mouth to speak, but Ava continued, “Turn around.”
Emma turned and braced her palms against the wall. Ava looped the laces through the eyelets and drew them firm.
“Nae too tight,” Emma reminded her.
“I ken how ye breathe,” Ava muttered. “Hold on.”
Emma obeyed as the dress closed neatly and smoothly around her back. Ava gave the laces one last tug, then tucked the ends.
“There.” Ava stepped back. “Look.”
Emma turned back to the mirror. The color flattered her skin perfectly, just as she knew it would.
The dress lookedfabulous. It hugged her body appropriately and hung around her like a choice she had made well and on purpose.
“It will do,” she allowed.
“It will dovery well,” Ava said. “Now, the ribbon.”
Emma hesitated, then shook her head. “Nay. Nay ribbon. Nae tonight.”
Ava considered and let it slide. “Shoes, then.”
“Shoes,” Emma echoed.
She bent, slipped them on, and straightened.
Ava went to the door. “I will wait in the corridor and see if anyone else needs help with anything. Knock when ye are ready.”
“I will,” Emma said.
Ava left, and the door clicked shut behind her.
Emma braced her hands on the back of the chair and looked at the wine-red fabric where it folded at her waist. She strained her ears again, hoping to hear something, but nothing came forth.Nothing except the sound of the logs popping in the fireplace, anyway.
She lifted her chin and drew a steady breath. Then another.
The mess on the bed could wait, but the hour, on the other hand, could not. She stood for a long moment with her fingers on her waist, letting the silence slow her churning thoughts.
Emma found Jack later that night waiting outside his study, hands tucked behind his back, shoulders squared. His white shirt hung around his torso, and his leather trousers reflected the low candlelight.
He looked at her, and for a breath, he went very still. She knew the bodice pushed up her breasts, and she jutted her chin as if it did not matter. Satisfaction curved her lips as she noticed the look on his face.
He was entranced.
That was it.
That was the feeling she was going for. The realstatementshe wanted to make.
