I lift my chin in defiance despite the desire that throbs in my core. “Are you threatening me, Lord Ashwood?”
Kane’s lips curl, part smirk, part seduction. “Think of it as a promise I’m only too happy to keep.”
The attendant, her presence nearly forgotten, flinches at the exchange and keeps her eyes fixed on the tiled floor as she mumbles a flustered apology and quickly makes room for him to pass.
Kane lingers in the doorway, his gaze smoldering with an intensity that might burn me to the ground. “Lady Ashwood will dress in the bedroom.”
“Yes, my lord,” the maid responds mechanically before hastily retreating into the dressing room to lay out the gown.
I can barely make sense of my scattered thoughts over the rapid beat of my heart and the heat of unresolved tension that thrums against my skin. I take a deep breath, hide my gold scar, and steady myself as the attendantreturns to assist me out of the bath and wrap a warm towel around me.
My knees are softened butter as I walk through the dressing room, the plush carpet muffling my footsteps. Kane stands by the window, his silhouette framed against the fiery-orange sunset that filters through the heavy drapes, their deep-maroon fabric glowing like flames around the edges. He turns as I enter, and his dark eye meets mine, its heat burning into me.
After the warmth of the bath, the cool air of the bedroom is brisk against my damp skin, its chill prickling my arms. The maid begins her work, gently patting my body dry with the soft, fluffy towel, absorbing the leftover moisture from the bath in swift dabs.
Kane’s presence is commanding, his gaze lingering, heavy and intent, its weight pressing into my bones. I try to ignore the way it scorches my skin, the way it sets my veins ablaze and spreads through my belly, but right now, he holds me captive.
Once I’m dry, the maid sinks to the floor and guides black silk stockings up each of my legs before sliding a woven band to the top of the stockings at my midthigh, where she buckles them into place.
I can’t tell if Kane is murmuring his approval or if I’m hearing my pulse between my ears as the maid steps away and returns with a cotton chemise. She holds it up, its fabric gossamer thin and translucent in the soft light. I slip my arms through the sleeves, the cotton brushing against my skin like a light breeze.
“Lady Ashwood will go without a chemise or undergarments.” Kane’s instruction cuts through the air, and the attendant and I pause, chemise not yet over my head.
The maid’s hands tremble slightly as she grips the cotton. She glances between Kane and me, then slowly removes the chemise and sets it aside.
“Your corset, my lady.” Recovering her composure, she retrieves the garment and wraps the silk and bone around my waist.
My breath catches as the cool fabric encircles me. Her fingers move swiftly as she fastens the front and moves to lace the back. She pulls the laces snugly, the corset molding to my body, accentuating the gentle curve of my hips and rise of my chest and giving me the posture of a prima ballerina.
Kane’s attention doesn’t waver, and goose bumps crest against my skin as he looks at me through dark lashes.
“Tighter.” Kane’s demand interrupts the soft whisper of laces.
The maid pauses, her hands faltering. “We do not lace down so tightly, my lord.”
I clear my throat and find my voice, the words leaving my mouth automatically. “Do as he says.”
Across the room, Kane’s lips curve in an appreciative smile.
I let out a long breath as the maid returns to work. With each tug, the corset tightens. The stiff boning presses into my back and sides, straddling the line between pleasure and pain.
With every cinch of the laces, Kane’s desire winds around me just as tightly, his gaze never leaving the contours of my body. The room grows hotter, the air thicker with an unspoken need that clings as closely as the corset.
“Now the gown,” he commands, his voice low and rough.
With a quick nod, the maid retreats into the dressing room, leaving me cinched and sculpted and on display.
“You look…” Kane begins as he slowly circles me.
My breasts heave, billowing out of the corset as my heart thumps and I take small gulps of air. I want to please him more than I realized. I want him to want me. “I look…”
“Almost perfect,” he concludes.
I shiver involuntarily as he trails a finger down the small of my back, where the corset laces tighten into a knot.
The maid reenters, and Kane steps away, leaning against the bedpost, his muscles straining against his shirt as he crosses his arms over his broad chest. She lifts the beautiful gown and fits it over my newly molded curves. It settles over me in a cascade of deep-blue velvet, and Kane watches as every ripple of fabric spills over my figure.
“Leave the jewels,” he says as the attendant moves to the dresser and lifts the chosen necklace from the tray. “She outshines them all on her own.”
