“Yes. The blue room.”
He hadn’t known it had a name, but true enough that its accents were that color. He nodded.
“Yes,” Niel said, and reluctantly let go of her hand. He rubbed his jaw as she dipped a curtsy. Then he turned and strode away from her. His heart raced abnormally fast. But it was only sensible, really, asking her to come to his room for warmth. There was no sense starting two fires, when he still wanted hismen to last as long as they could. And he didn’t feel like thawing out in the kitchen with whatever assortment of soldiers lounged there.
Perhaps he should have offered to warm her room instead of his own. But Niel’s chamber was bigger than hers, if they chose to eat together. It had been hard wedging the table next to her bed all the times they’d dined in her room.
Larkin was wrong. There was nothing natural about how Niel felt.
It wasn’t long until she knocked on his door, then peeked inside when he called for her to enter. Ayla’s hair still looked damp, and she still carried herself like she’d turned to ice, but she was dressed in a wine-red gown with a neck that scooped down inches below her clavicle. Her hands were buried in the soft cream-colored cloak wrapped around her shoulders.
Niel beckoned from where he crouched beside the roaring fire. He rose, dusting ash and wood fragments off his hands as the lady approached.
“You haven’t changed,” she said, almost accusingly.
“I was making the fire,” Niel said, flushing at the feeling of her eyes on him. “I will now. Please, make yourself comfortable.” He gestured at one of the two small wooden chairs he’d dragged up towards the fire. “Wine?”
“Not until you’re dry,” Ayla said, with a tone that implied any resistance on his part was a doomed battle.
He gathered a clean set of clothes, and retreated to the ice-cold bathing chamber to clean his hands and quickly strip from the snow-logged outfit. Niel hesitated, then left the chest armor on the ground beside his discarded clothing. He didn’t leave the sword, but only because he needed it near if they were taken by surprise, and carried it in hand instead of belting the sheath around his waist again.
In his stocking feet, he padded back out to the bedchamber. Ayla held her hands out to the fire, damp hair spilling loose over her back.
She was not seated in either of the chairs, and had in fact pushed one back to make more space in front of the hearth. She’d sat directly on the furs in front of the fire, her legs tucked beneath herself. His heart pounded harder.
He tossed the sword down onto the bed.
“Now will you take wine?” he asked hoarsely. She turned to look up at him, a soft expression on her face, and nodded. He approached with two cups. Her fingers brushed against his, hers so soft, as he handed a drink down to her.
And then he pushed back his own chair and sat carefully beside her, leaving a foot or two between them. Ayla held her wine in both hands, then took a small sip. He tried not to stare at her.
It was far more intimate, sitting on the floor with a woman instead of in chairs. On the floor, the distance between two points did not seem quite so fixed.
It was impossible not to remember the way she’d looked, pinned beneath him in the snow. There had been a moment, before shame flooded his body, where he’d dreamed there was desire in her eyes. And her lips had been so close to his own that he could nearly have bent down to press his own mouth to hers.
And just now, she was only feet from him. If he thought for even a moment that she would enjoy it, he could lean over towards her…
His whole body felt tight, and Niel tore his eyes away from Ayla, worried she could somehow sense the direction of his thoughts. She made him feel like some long-dead part of him was coming back to life. And that was dangerous.
“Did you do that often when you were younger?” Niel tried to keep the strain from his voice. “The snow fighting?”
“Yes, in the winter months. Did you enjoy it? I hope I was not too cruel.”
“Your name and cruelty don’t belong in the same sentence. Though I am not sure I should ever thank such a fierce warrior for attacking me without warning.”
From the corner of his eye, he could see Ayla laughing silently into her cup.
“I use what advantages I can, sir.”
“You have plenty,” he told her, his voice low. He cleared his throat and glanced towards the room’s small window, and the icy world beyond. “It was nice to have a game in the middle of this.”
“Life cannot all be war. Even in a siege.”
“No,” Niel agreed, and sighed, “though sometimes…” he tapered off, staring into the fire.
“Sometimes?” Ayla urged.
He shook his head, but he could feel her gaze on him. Almost involuntarily, Niel turned to look at her, and found her wide gray eyes studying him openly. He allowed himself the luxury of staring back. His heart thumped loudly in his chest.
