‘Is it supposed to be like that?’ he asked, coming over and looking at the thick mixture.
‘Apparently,’ she replied. ‘I still have a few minutes before I’m supposed to wash it off.’ She made an exasperated sound. ‘Can you, please?’ she asked without thinking, gesturing to the stockings.
She was used to being dressed by maids, so she hadn’t thought anything of asking for a second pair of hands—but she had never been dressed by a man before. She went still.
Azam’s cheeks flushed but he didn’t hesitate. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Sit down.’
She took a seat, and he knelt down in front of her. The sight of him sent a dangerous thrill through her. Carefully, he lifted one of her feet, and she held it in place as he gathered the material of the stockings and slipped it onto her foot.
He pulled the stockings on slowly, his hand gliding over the smooth skin of her ankle and calf, up over her knee. He didn’t lift her dress and she watched as his hands disappeared under the fabric.
Heat welled across her skin everywhere he touched her as he settled the fabric above her knee, then brought his hands down to put her foot into her shoe, lacing it. Then, he moved onto her next foot, to do the same.
He was moving slowly, savoring it—or was she imagining that? Or had time slowed? Either way, she was at once glad and tormented.
She wondered what would happen if his hands went higher. She ached for it in a way that made her blood rush dangerously fast. She caught her breath, feeling dizzy as he settled the fabric above her knee, hands gentle yet firm.
He brought his hand down, his fingers skimming over her calf, down to her foot. He lifted her ankle with one hand, using the other to hold her shoe as he inserted her foot in. He laced upthe shoe. When he had finished, he settled one hand on either of her ankles, as if he wasn’t ready to let go yet.
It wasn’t enough. Desire burned through her, scorching.
He was still on his knees in front of her, but his gaze had been trained on her feet, her calves. Now, he brought them up to her face, and she stared into the dark depths, her own eyes wide and unblinking. Her pulse quickened.
His gaze dropped to her mouth, his lips parting. With some difficulty he dragged his eyes up to hers, and she heard the sharp inhale of his breath. There was misery on his face.
Tension pulled her muscles tight. She whispered his name, and he closed his eyes. A small crease appeared between his brows. He was trembling, face scrunched as though he was in pain.
Her chest ached. She wanted to reach a hand out and touch his face, then remembered the ridiculous cream on her hands that stopped her from doing so.
They were both frozen in place until the clock dinged.
He opened his eyes. They were dark pools.
‘Time to go,’ he said. His voice was rough.
Sonya stood, feeling unsteady as she went to wash her hands, which were indeed incredibly soft. She was ready. She grabbed her shawl, and down they went.
Basma and Arwa were at the front again. ‘Have fun!’ they called, when they spotted her.
Outside, the carriage was already waiting. Compared to the carriage they’d travelled in, it was nice and roomy, especially with just the two of them. Azam looked impressed, running a hand over the fabric of the lining.
They made it to the country estate after an hour long ride and, the entire way over, Sonya looked out the window with wonder, taking everything in. This part of their kingdom was so differentfrom Castletown! She saw rolling hills for miles and miles, lush greenery dotted with trees and white sheep and galloping horses. It was all so stunning!
She was excited for the wedding, as well, feeling jittery. When they arrived at the estate, Azam helped her down, and she took in the grand scene. There were carriages on the drive with guests coming out, while more guests were already inside.
Azam offered Sonya his arm and they walked in together. The mansion had been decorated beautifully with huge bouquets of blue forget-me-nots and white wisteria and, as they made their way into the ballroom, the beauty only intensified.
There were chandeliers with lit candles and even more flowers and tables upon tables of delicious food and drink. As they entered, a waiter served them a fizzy drink, and Sonya took a sip, surprised by the flavor: it had apple and elderflower and tasted fruity and floral.
‘This is incredible,’ Sonya said to Azam. She didn’t bother whispering; it was so loud in there with general revelry that nobody would have paid attention to her commentary anyway.
‘It’s surely something.’ Azam looked dazed, and she could see he was worried about the dress, how it would hold against all this finery. She squeezed his arm, and he took a deep breath.
They had a bit of a wait until the couple made their entrance, the smaller ceremony having already taken place.
Everyone was dressed immaculately, and she would have felt more self-conscious in her simple dress if it hadn’t been the perfect disguise. While she didn’t recognize anyone, there was a chance someone might recognize her. Dressed as she was, she would easily be overlooked, especially amongst the other ladies.
Finally, it was time for the couple to enter. When they did, the entire room gasped in delight and awe. Ximena held her husband’sarm; he was tall with cropped hair and dark skin, handsome in a sharp gray suit. And Ximena…even though Sonya had seen the dress before, the final effect was truly something.
