Reining in her thoughts, she set her fingers at the hinge of his jaw, stretching the skin taut. “Hold still,” she murmured, angling the blade just so.
“Yes, ma’am.”
The corners of his mouth twitched in a small, teasing grin.
“And don’t talk.”
His smirk deepened, but he obeyed.
Slow, deliberate, downward strokes. She traced the edge of the blade over his cheek, revealing high cheekbones, smooth skin, a jawline far sharper than she remembered.
Older.
Harsher.
He’d been on the cusp of manhood the last time she’d seen him. Now, he was all man.
Her fingers trembled.
Of course, it was him.
Ten years older. With no memories.
But he was…
Alastair.
She forced her breathing to stay even. Forced her hands to remain steady as she worked her way lower, over the hard planes of his face. The razor glided down his jaw, revealing the man beneath the bristle, the man who had once held her heart in the palm of his hand.
Had she known all along? From the moment she’d stared into his eyes?
She paused, the blade resting at his throat.
He leaned his head back slightly, exposing the long column of his neck, his Adam’s apple shifting as he swallowed.
“You trust me?” she whispered.
His lips parted slightly, as if the question surprised him. Then, with quiet certainty, he said, “Completely.”
His voice, low and rough, sent a shiver through her.
She rinsed the blade, exhaling slowly.
Steady, Daisy. Stay steady.
With careful precision, she resumed, sliding the razor over his throat, feeling his pulse hammer beneath her fingertips.
For these few minutes, he was hers again.
And God help her, she wasn’t sure she could bear to let him go. But then, like a clap of thunder, she clamped down on such foolish, dangerous thoughts.No. No. No!
Had he not hurt her enough already?
This changed nothing.
“Open your mouth,” she ordered. “Make an ‘O’.”
He followed her commands, and Daisy went to work on his mustache. Slow, steady. His breath caressed her face while she allowed the blade to do its job.
