Words fail me. I only nod. I nod far too long, staring at him while flashes of the dream surge up, icy water closing over my head, his unmoving silhouette watching me sink.
The room is warm, but I shiver.
I am startled by a soft thump. I turn to see the female laying out a dress and coat on the velvet-draped bed across the room. When she finally glances at me, it is fleeting and empty of feeling. Her attention shifts past me and lands on Luceran instead. She bows.
He gives her a single nod, and she disappears as swiftly as she came, closing the door behind her.
I look at him with a mixture of curiosity and irritation.“Who was that?”
Lord Frostwyn grips the arms of his chair. Frost ripples across the fabric beneath his hands as he rises. He steps forward into the amber glow of the fire and smooths that errant strand of ivory hair back into place.
“If you have indulged long enough in my hospitality, kindly get your ass out of my tub and get to work.”
His words snap the last of the dream’s chill out of me. Even any foolish flicker of attraction is gone in an instant.
“Gladly, if you would step out so I can get changed.”
He snorts, sweeping aside his fur-lined coat and planting his rune-etched fists on his hips. “You think in all my years I have not seen the naked body of a human woman? You believe yours is somehow special? Breathtaking enough that I am desperate for a glimpse?”
I gulp, arms curling tighter around myself, suddenly painfully aware of every inch of exposed skin.
“It would be gentlemanly to at least turn around,” I manage.
He lifts his chin, considering.“If it will get you out of the tub and to work faster, then very well, Neve Devlin.”
He pivots with a dramatic sweep of his coat, the fur flaring behind him as he turns to face the wall.
I wait a few seconds, just to be sure he will not suddenly whirl back, before reaching for the nearest towel. I snatch it and drag it toward me. Rising from the water steals the warmth from my skin in an instant. The towel snags on the tub and I fumble with it, glancing anxiously between the tangled fabric and Luceran’s rigid back. At any moment he could turn and see me bare.
But he does not. He stands perfectly still, silent, the picture of disdainful patience.
Perhaps he is a gentleman after all.
I finally manage to free the towel and wrap it tightly around myself. A glint in the corner of my eye draws my attention to a decorative silver plate perched on a table near the fire. The amber glow turns its surface into a perfect mirror, reflecting every detail in the room.
My breath catches. I can see myself. So clearly.
Then I swallow hard, because the plate is angled directly toward Luceran and I have the sickening suspicion that he is watching the reflection. Watching me.
I tug the towel tighter around my body. I cough in warning. His shoulders tense, ever so slightly.
“Are you finished?” he says, voice rough.
I cannot help thinking he already knows.
“I appreciate how accommodating you have been, but I need to dry myself and get dressed. Perhaps, my lord, I could have a moment of privacy.”
Luceran glances at me over his broad shoulder, golden eye catching the firelight. His gaze sweeps over me so quickly it almost looks accidental, but I am not fooled.
“Very well,” he says.
He turns toward the door. Frost crackles across the floor in his wake, thin lines chasing his footsteps. He does not reach for the handle. Instead, with a casual wave of his hand, a swirl of snowflakes rushes forward, coils around the metal, and pulls the door open before vanishing on a cold draft.
He pauses and tips his chin toward the bed.
“These should serve you better than the rags you arrived in, and wear gloves and a scarf at all times. I did not bargain myself a servant only to waste half the day watching her soak in a bathtub.”
My head tilts. “So you were sitting there half the day then?”
