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I shut the door behind him, trying to seem casual. “Shall I just, um, sit on the bed?”

“Standing is quicker,” he said. “It’s easier to lift your skirts that way.”

I let out an unexpected, nervous laugh. “Oh. Yes. Yep. Lift my skirts. Obviously—” I backed away as he approached, until my back was pressed into the wall. I forced myself not to stare, not to give myself away with my expression.

God, why did this suddenly feel like he was seducing me … and it was working?

“Just like at the audition,” I said, attempting to change the subject. “You know, standing against the wall. Waiting … for things.”

Beric grinned the slightest bit. “Indeed.”

I rolled my eyes at myself as he bent down, but there was barely a moment to be annoyed with myself before I felt the cool air of the room around my legs and heard Faline chastise, “Beric! For the love of God, show a bit of delicacy, please.”

I didn’t look at Eliza—it would make everything so much worse. And I didn’t know what to do with my hands, so I rested them on my chest, fingers laced and focused on keeping my breathing level. His warm hand against my leg, tracing my scar, was unbearable. Even though it was such an innocent thing to examine a scar, it was not an innocent thing to be beneath my skirts, hot fingers burning trails along my skin, and I was ashamed to admit I’d let him stay there forever if I could.

Ann was right. He felt something for me. He must, to be so bold in front of others.

It took all of five seconds, but it felt both too long and not nearly long enough.

How wrong of me to admit, even to myself, that I yearned for his touch as soon as it was gone. And how sad to know it would only ever come out of duty. It seemed I would have to be in a constant state of distress or crying or defiant, for those seemed to be the only attitudes that would allow me to feel the warmth of his hands.

“Forgive me, my lady,” Beric said, adjusting the hem of my skirt. “I worked as quickly as I could.”

“It’s nothing,” I lied. Poorly. “You had to be sure. I appreciate your … attention to detail.”

I dared to look at Faline. Her brows were raised nearly as high as her hairline. Looking at Eliza would’ve caved in all my nerves, so I unfolded my hands and smiled at Beric instead.

“It’s a prominent scar,” he said. “But there’s nothing off about it.”

Are we truly talking of scars when you were just underneath my skirts?

“It’s fine,” I said. “I don’t mind scars.”

“It won’t be seen again, anyway,” said Faline, giving Beric a pointed glare.

“Perhaps,” said Eliza, “Lord Beric might provide some ointment to rub into it.”

“Oh, Eliza,” Faline fussed, slapping her in the arm with the pair of stockings she was putting away.

I felt myself blushing, so violently my heart pounded in my ears. I needed to get out of this room, as soon as possible, and find somewhere I might scream in delight without others hearing.

Beric shifted his gaze among the three of us, as if attempting to decipher what we were going on about. “We won’t be accompanying the king into The Dark for another several days, so I think it’s best if we wait and see how you feel tomorrow before heading out for more practice.”

“I appreciate that,” I said, thankful to be talking of something else. I cringed. “Although, I’m rather dreading going back out there.”

Beric frowned. “Next time there will be no one there to distract me from you.”

God … why did his words just feel like a caress?

“I beg your forgiveness, my lady,” Beric said, suddenly, as if he had been holding the words in for far too long. “I’ve been touching you in an unspeakable manner all day.”

The memory of the protective way he’d held me in the carriage flashed in my mind, but the way he’d touched me just now settled in to stay.

I chuckled to play it off. “If you’re one thing, my lord, it has never been shy when it comes to touching me.”

He blinked a few rapid times in succession. In the short time I’d known Beric, I had never seen him look so flustered.

“Please don’t tease me when I’m genuinely apologizing,” he said finally.