Because she wantedhim, too.
She turned the handle and stepped through the door. Nerves tingling at every sound, her eyes darted down the hallway as she stood in front of his bedchamber. A small twitch of her fingers. A moment of hesitation, a half-second in time, and she wrapped one knuckle against the wood, a whisper of bone so silent she thought he wouldn’t hear it. Moving to knock again, the door opened and her hand met air with a startled, “Oh!”
A tight grip wrapped around her wrist, pulling her into the room. The door closed behind her silently. Her back against the door, Seth placed one palm on either side of her head, but didn’t touch her. His eyes bore into hers with fierce intensity.
“Seth,” she breathed.
His eyes traveled to her mouth for a moment before he took a step back. He deftly unhooked her cloak and pulled it from her. Wrapping the cloak in a bundle in his arms, his eyes roamed her with an analytical completeness. Her frustration faded when there was no fire in his eyes, no dark intentions. He sought answers, not affection. Satisfied with his inspection, his eyes softened, and he asked tenderly, “Are you all right?”
“Yes,” she whispered. Holding her hand out, she gestured to the cloak. In slow movements, he returned the cloak to her shoulders, his palms grazing her with a gentle touch.
“Did you sleep? Did you eat?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “And yes.”
“The doctor said you were injured.” His voice was a pained whisper. “Did I hurt you?”
“No.”
He gave her a dubious expression, one eyebrow quirked up as his lips tilted down.
Cassandra fidgeted with her fingers and looked away. “I’msore. Bruised,” she admitted and carefully touched her ribcage. “From the impact.”
Seth grit his teeth and turned from her.
“I’ll take bruises over the alternative,” she joked, trying to lighten the tension between them, but his shoulders tensed further. In a softer tone, she asked, “How are you?”
“Sore,” he said simply. He rubbed the muscles at the back of his neck and gave her a smile that was almost like his normal self. “I’m not really in damsel-rescuing shape.”
Not knowing what to say or where to stand, Cassandra glanced around. Dimly illuminated by the fire in the hearth and two oil lamps on either side of the room. It felt like a schoolroom. Colorless. Lifeless, with no personal adornments. The woolen drapes blocked all light from the windows.
“Did you sleep?” she asked, looking at his unmade bed. Its thin mattress would haveherwanting to sleep outside. Hastily, he straightened his bedding, his ears turning red. Was he embarrassed? A smile tugged at her lips, and a warm feeling came over her.
Adorable.
“Yes, a few hours.” He smiled sheepishly. “Enough, at any rate. Have a seat. I’ll need a moment. I wasn’t sure when you would wake, and then I didn’t think you wouldagree—” Fully grinning, he shook his head as if he couldn’t believe his luck. Seth moved a folded throw blanket from the seat of the chair, placed it on the desk, and encouraged her to sit.
Leaning against his bed, Seth laced his boots. His movements were natural. Domestic. As if they did this all the time.
“Are you going somewhere?” she asked.
“Yes,weare.” He leaned down and wrapped the soft blanket around her shoulders.
Instead of saying no like she meant to, she asked, “Where?”
“To the glasshouse.”
“Right now?” Her eyes widened, and she shook her head, not rising from the chair. The glasshouse was on the other side of the manor! They would be discovered for sure!
“Why not?” he challenged.
“There are hundreds of reasons why not.”
“Give me one.”
“One?” Nervousness peaked through her voice as her reason rose again. She glanced at the clock. “It’s not exactly a good time.”
“You’re wrong.” His voice lowered. “Now is thebesttime.” His eyes were intent upon her once more, smoldering in the firelight from the hearth. With her seated and him kneeling, he offered his hand to her, palm up.
