She looked down at her hands, which were still covered with her sister’s dried blood.
‘I’ll show you where you can wash up,’ he said.
She followed him outside the greenhouse, where a washing area was set up.
He lit the candles to reveal large basins filled with clean water, a small bucket for pouring, bars of soap, and a sponge. Xander pointed out the towels on a shelf, and she set the dress down beside them.
‘I’ll just be inside,’ Xander said. ‘If you need anything.’
‘I—Thank you.’ She met his eyes, hoping he understood just how much she meant it. ‘Really, Xander.’
He swallowed. ‘Of course.’
He left her, and Bisma tied her hair up into a knot, preparing herself. Then she stripped off her clothes, which she would be discarding now. It felt like peeling off a layer of skin, and she poured cold water over herself, then scrubbed with the sponge. She watched the water turn pink with the dried blood; she scrubbed and scrubbed until it was all gone.
Bisma took long, measuring breaths, her heart slowing. It was done now; there was no use in being upset about it. She ordered herself to be alright.
Grabbing the soap bar, she lathered suds across her skin, inhaling the scent. The soap smelled strongly of cloves, and when she washed it from her body, she found she smelled just like Xander.
Pressing her nose to her skin, she breathed it in. She closed her eyes, letting the scent calm her.
Once she was clean, she patted herself dry, then stepped into the dress. It was of a fine material, and the moment it touched her skin, she felt safe from the chilly evening.
The dress had a dark plaid print with full sleeves, though the neckline was wide enough that the sleeves were barely hanging onto her shoulders. The dress was long on her, for Eleanora was taller, but that was not the biggest issue.
The dress laced in the back.
Eleanora had maidservants to help her dress, of course, but Bisma had no such thing. She tried to reach across and lace it up herself but to no avail. The dress slipped off.
With a sigh, Bisma considered putting on her own dress, but she looked at the sorry state of it and her mouth soured.
Well, there was only one thing for it.
After drying her feet and putting on her shoes, Bisma slipped the dress back on. Holding the front of the dress in place, she walked back to the greenhouse.
Luna was still asleep, and Xander was leaning against the opposite table, watching her with careful eyes. When he heard Bisma come in, his gaze immediately went to her. His jaw went slack.
Suddenly, she felt exposed. Her wet hair was still up in a knot, tendrils falling down, but for the most part her entire neck was bare. His eyelids fluttered.
‘It laces in the back,’ Bisma said, hesitating. ‘Can you—’
He looked her up and down, his gaze lingering. He clenched his jaw, then nodded. ‘Come here,’ he said, his voice a command.
A shiver ran through her.
She went to him, holding the dress tightly in place to keep it from falling. Beneath her palm, she felt her heart race. Suddenly, she felt shy, not wanting to turn, for her entire back was bare.
Xander slid his hand over her waist. With the barest pressure from his finger, he turned her. She couldn’t help but gasp as he pulled the laces, pulling her closer to him. His legs bracketed her; she stood between his knees.
He began at the bottom, at the base of her spine, the pads of his fingers dancing across her bare skin. She imagined what it might feel like if he slipped his hands under the dress; it would be so easy—he could pretend it was an accident.
But he did not, which almost made it worse. The temptation hung there, like a sword swinging above her head, back andforth, waiting to fall. She wondered if he felt it, but she couldn’t see his face, which she was almost glad for. Her skin grew hot.
He continued lacing her up, tugging the strings tight, and Bisma briefly forgot how to breathe. His long fingers worked deftly but slowly, as if he was savoring it. Desire pierced through her, sharp and bright.
She felt his scattered breath against the bare skin of her shoulders as he finished, tying the laces in place into a tight bow. The dress was secured, but Bisma still held onto her heart as it pounded thunderously.
A single finger went down the laces, as if he was checking them, and she felt an electric current tingle through her skin with the movement. Then his hand settled on her waist, holding onto her like an anchor.
