Or her new husband will suddenly turn amorous, and the sheer gown will fit right into the night’s activities. Judging by Cerian’s quick exit, that seems unlikely.
Small mercies.
She steps toward the outer room again to find Cerian looking out the window. Something about the stiff way he carries himself as he stands there tugs at her heart, encouraging her to move closer to him.
Is that the heartbinding influencing her?
Unsure what else to do, she gives in to the urge and approaches him. “Are you all right?”
With a glance over his shoulder at her, he nods. Apparently, he doesn’t feel like talking.
She follows his gaze toward the eastern horizon, where stars are just beginning to appear in the darkening sky.
“It’s a beautiful night,” she says. “A good night for stargazing.”
“The stars are difficult to see from the Wildthorne Woods,” he whispers. “The trees are too tall and too plentiful.”
There’s a wistful note in his voice, and his words give her an idea.
“Would you like to climb the astronomy tower with me? There’s a telescope and an observation deck where we could gaze at the night sky.”
That got his attention. For the first time since they met, he looks excited.
“You wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all.”
Anything is better than standing alone together in awkward silence while wondering what the night will hold.
He glances at her gown and frowns. “You should change into something else.”
“Hmm. Yes. That may be a problem.”
Unless he expects her to go stargazing in lacy negligee.
His brows wrinkle. “What sort of problem?”
“There aren’t a lot of...options to choose from.”
He deflates a little. “Perhaps another time.”
She eyes him thoughtfully and taps her chin, and he frowns.
“Did you bring extra clothing?” she asks.
“Yes...” He draws out the word. “Though my clothes from yesterday smell like a horse.”
“They probably got washed,” she murmurs. “I overheard someone talking about washing the elves’ clothing before tomorrow’s departure. Come on.”
Warily, he follows her into his inner chamber as she scans the room for his clothes. They weren’t in the wardrobe with hers. Perhaps a drawer?
Lying neatly folded in the top drawer of the bureau are his freshly laundered clothes from yesterday, along with the clothing he was wearing this morning.
She turns to look at him. “Do you mind if I wear your clothes? If I get my travel dress wrinkled before we even leave, Mother will fuss. And the other gown...isn’t fit for stargazing.”
He stares at her for a few moments. What’s going through his head? Hopefully, he’s not having second thoughts about stargazing as he imagines her in that sheer nightgown.
“You may wear my things if you think they’ll fit you,” he eventually says.
