Page 95 of The Thief and the Traitor Bride

“With that woman.”

He looked at her for a moment, still incredulous, and then he laughed, shaking his head. Caspian moved forward to the desk. He leaned on it, looking her up and down, like he was savoring every moment of her anger. “Finch,” he said, and she hated the self-satisfied tone of his voice. “Are you jealous?”

“We’re on a mission,” she said, every word clipped. Nore swallowed hard, trying not to think of the duchess’s disappointment—or what she suspected.

“I know that,” Caspian said. He laughed, shaking his head. “So I suppose you were just on a mission with Picantor-Donan, then?”

Nore rolled her eyes. “I was getting information,” she snapped. “Nothing untoward happened.”

Caspian’s eyes darkened. Like a taunt, he said, “What if I said I haven’t been with anyone since you?”

Nore clenched her hands into fists. “Then I’d know you were lying,” she said.

He stood straight, taking a step closer. Nore felt the chill of the glass against her bare shoulder blades. “Then why does it suddenly matter now, if I’m with someone else?” he asked. His voice did that thing, turned to velvet, curled in her stomach. A fire ignited in the pit of her belly—or perhaps it had been there all evening since he’d touched her, just banked low.

“It threatens our safety,” Nore said, forcing her voice to be level. “You’re my husband here—at least, that’s the game we’re playing. Any other dalliances endanger our mission.”

He stepped closer, his eyes dark. “Who do you think that woman was, Finch?”

Nore looked away, hiding the flush on her face. “I don’t know,” she said, steely. “It doesn’t matter. If you get close to anyone—”

“That was the sister of the Nestrian High Lord, one of the suitors put forth as a match to the High Lady of Locke. I was not trying to bed her, Finch, but if I could flirt my way into information—well. I was just following your own tactics.”

Nore’s stomach dropped. “You were… you were spying.”

Not just spying: using exactly the same method Nore had employed hours ago. All this suspicion about Caspian—and yet, here she was, ruining her own mission. And for what? Insecurity? Jealousy? For him?

Yes, that small, unwelcome voice whispered. For him. Everything, for him.

“I was,” Caspian said, his voice furious but level. “But back to your rules. Do they apply to you, too?”

“What are you talking about?”

His hand came up, almost as if he hadn’t directed it. His thumb swept over her collarbone. “Your friend. At the harbor.”

“Tern?”

Something flickered in his expression. “Yes.”

“Caspian, nothing—”

“You kissed him.”

Nore laughed, pulling away. How had he even seen that? “He kissed me.”

“So you don’t deny it,” he said, his voice brimming with fury.

“That was nothing. He’s a friend and nothing more. Were you spying on me?”

“What does it matter if I was?”

Nore felt her anger rising and tried to quash it with whatever sense she had left. “Hold on. No, we’re not doing this. You cannot be jealous of me. You cannot…” She trailed off, searching his face, as ice-cold realization punched her in the chest.

Caspian looked at her evenly.

“You cannot want me,” she said, feeling a fool. All this time, she’d been trying to unravel the mystery of her mission, if only to avoid the mystery that stood before her now.

But it was too late, wasn’t it? She already felt her body heating, turning traitor.