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He wasn’t sure, but it had something to do with the fact that even now, as he stood before her, his heart was racing a mile a minute. Looking at her made him feel… giddy. He wanted her to go, but he wanted her to stay. He wanted to talk to her, but he didn’t want to talk to her. He didn’t know what he wanted. All he knew was his carefully held control, the wall that he always had up around himself, was beginning to show signs of stress when she was around.

Weakening.

And he couldn’t explain it.

“Ye dinna do wrong by washing my things,” he said after a moment. “But ye… ye’re the daughter of a contè. Ye’re from Spanish nobility and ye shouldna be working like a common wench. Ye’re a fine and beautiful woman and ye should be living a life of leisure, and… where in the world did ye get that ugly dress?”

The subject shifted to the brown broadcloth she was wearing, and Esme looked down at herself.

“Lilia loaned it to me,” she said. “Lady Ayr’s fine silk was coming apart at the seams, so she gave me this to work in.”

“Ye’re too beautiful tae wear such things.”

“But I have nothing else.”

That stopped him, at least momentarily. “Then I’ll buy ye what ye need, but ye’re not tae wear things like that,” he said. “I dunna like tae see ye in them.”

It was clear by the expression on Esme’s face that she thought she had offended him somehow. She had no idea what to make of his statement, but she knew that he was displeased. That was the last thing she wanted.

She stood up from her chair and nodded quickly, moving to the door.

“I… I must retrieve my dress from Lilia,” she said tightly. “She was going to clean the dirt from it, but I will take it back right away.”

Titus could see that she was close to tears. That hadn’t been his intention and he stopped her before she could get to the door.

“Wait,” he said, watching her pause with her hand on the latch. “I meant that ye’re not meant tae be wearing a peasant’s dress.”

Esme was losing the battle against her tears. “But it is all that I have.”

Titus could see that he wasn’t communicating well with her. This was an entirely new situation for him. Usually, when he was alone with a woman, she was doing all the speaking. And all of the work. He just lay there and let her do it.

But this was different. It wasn’t that he had to communicate with her – it was that he wanted to.

He didn’t want to make her cry.

“Come back here,” he said quietly. “Sit down. I dinna mean tae upset ye.”

Esme turned away from the door, slowly, but that wasn’t fast enough for him. Titus reached out and took her by the arm, directing her back into the chair she’d been sitting in. She plopped down, keeping her gaze lowered as she wiped at her nose with the back of her hand.

He just stood there and watched her, feeling a good deal of remorse.

“I dinna do a very good job of telling ye that I think ye’re too beautiful tae wear such plain clothing,” he said. “That’s what I meant.”

She nodded, sniffling. “I did not mean to displease you,” she said. “I do not want you to regret agreeing to help me, so I was trying to make myself useful.”

“I realize that.”

She didn’t reply, but simply sat there and continued to wipe at her eyes as the silent tears fell. With a sigh, Titus sought out the nearest chair and sat down heavily, weary from his morning of training and wandering thoughts.

The object of those thoughts was sitting a few feet away, and he took a moment to stare at her, unimpeded. He could see her long, dark lashes when she blinked, and her eyes, he noticed, were beautiful and expressive. He liked that. She was the most enchanting creature he’d ever seen, but he literally couldn’t figure out why.

What was it about her that had his attention?

Any regrets or second thoughts he had about helping her evaporated. He was sorry he had even suggested giving her the money to return to Navarre.

He didn’t want to see her go.

“So… ye willna take my money.”