Page 27 of How To Tempt A Bodyguard

He stared at the wood grain of the door and tried to think about nothing.

A soft grunt. Stays being loosened. The heavy sound of a wet dress hitting the floor. More rustling. The lighter whisper of dry fabric.

"You can turn around."

He did. She was dressed in a simple wool gown, dark blue, unadorned. Her hair was still wet, but she'd twisted it into a loose knot. She looked smaller without the layers.

"Your turn," she said. She crossed to the washstand and picked up the cloth there, pressing it to her face. Not quite looking at him.

Matthew moved to his bag. He had one change of clothes. He'd learned to travel light. He stripped off his wet coat, his waistcoat, his shirt.

The cold air hit his skin. He reached for the dry shirt.

And caught her reflection in the window.

The glass was dark with rain, but not dark enough. He could see her watching him. Not his face. His back. Most likely the scars there—the long, pale lines from a whipping years ago. The puckered mark where a knife had gone in and nearly not come out.

She wasn't turning away.

Matthew pulled the dry shirt over his head, breaking the reflection. When he turned, she was studying the washstand with great intensity.

"See something interesting?" he asked.

"The soap. It's lavender." She picked it up, examined it like it contained secrets. "I hate lavender."

"I meant in the window."

She set the soap down. Met his eyes.

"You have a lot of scars."

"We established that this morning."

"I didn't see your back this morning." She tilted her head. "Someone whipped you."

"Long time ago."

"How long?"

"Long enough that it doesn't matter."

She was quiet, likely weighing whether to push, and decided against it.

"You should finish changing," she said. "You're still wet from the waist down."

"I'll dry."

"You'll catch your death." She moved towards the bed, settling on its edge with her back to him. "I won't look."

"You were looking before."

"I was startled." A pause. "You have a lot of scars."

"You said that already."

"It bears repeating."

He found himself almost smiling. Almost.