Page 98 of Devil in Her Details

Wits! Why do you leave me so bare? So cruel!

“Truly?” Calliope asked. “Maxen’s shirt. I’ve never slept in his. I must try this.”

“Me as well,” Violet said, eyes reaching to the starry skies. She leaned forward. “Have you . . . taken rest . . . in Dagger’s shirt?”

Lilly’s face instantly flushed. The deadest of giveaways that ever gave away anything, judging by their knowing stares.

“Don’t worry,” Violet reassured. “We don’t care to judge either.”

Judging wasn’t what Lilly was worried about. Explanation was. Even if they didn’t question anything further, there would come a point where Lilly would have to question herself. Illuminate her desires. Her wishes. She’d been holding back on that so far and had acted as her heart desired openly. In the back of her mind, she’d always known, to some degree, that might come back to plague her most inconveniently.

“What is there to judge?” Lilly said with a faint smile. “A shirt was offered to me. I couldn’t resist.”

Violet snorted. “A shirt that was his shirt?”

His shirt. “Is a men’s shirt not a men’s shirt?”

“Only you could answer that,” Violet said, sipping her wine. “Would you wear Saint’s shirt? Or Knight’s? Or Serpent’s? Or Reaper’s?”

God, no.

Violet smirked. “As I thought.”

Lilly gave up. “Fine. You are right. A shirt isn’t just a shirt.”

Calliope grinned. “They tend to be that way. Irresistible. Those shirts that aren’t shirts.”

Violet rolled her eyes, then the wily fox grinned, too. “And broody. And possessive. And arrogant.”

“But also irresistible.”

Lilly groaned, then couldn’t help but smile at their teasing. They truly loved their husbands. And she truly avoided the prospect. There had been a time she’d believed she aspired to exactly the sort of love they shared with their panthers. She had even watched Allie and Leo throw all caution to every possible wind and felt envy. Hope. Excitement.

But after Calvington . . .

She might not have considered him a suitor from the start, but she’d trusted him to be a gentleman. At the very least. Then he had used her openness, her unconventional hobby, against her in the most dreadful, calculated marriage trap.

She had let her guard down, and she’d nearly paid for it with all her freedom. Imprisoned in a union of hell. Of course, following society’s rules, she’d have to marry eventually. Maybe. She could simply not marry at all. Spinsterhood wasn’t all that far outside of the rules. If one had cats. And dogs. And income. And the desire. Her gaze dropped to the scrapes on her hands. The soft lips of Dagger placing kisses there . . .

Should she just become a spinster with a dozen cats and dogs?

The life might suit her.

Liar.

The truth was she wanted marriage. The whole inconvenient, complicated thing. A partner who cherished her. Who challenged her. Loved her. She was coming to believe she wanted it badly enough that it frightened her. She cast another glance at Dagger, who was in conversation with the turtle, Reaper. Their eyes met, and her whole body set on fire. Call her wanton, but all she could think about now was his shirt, and how many hours until she could wear it again.

Would they share a chamber tonight, too?

Probably not. While she could brush away the presence of her servants, she couldn’t sweep away the presence of Dagger’s family.

That just didn’t seem . . . proper.

Now you want to be proper?

Yes, yes. She knew, she knew.

Still . . . some lines needed to be drawn and never crossed. Only, she badly wanted to cross every single line with this panther. Lilly glanced back at the women before her, the discussion having turned to candle scents. Her temple started to throb at resisting returning her gaze to Dagger and just . . .stare.