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Balls of anxiety plopped from my chest into my stomach. “That I don’t know,” I said. Here was where things would get tricky. “It was very hard to read him, even when I . . . when I was touching him.”
Claude was silent as curiosity crept into his expression. “What do you mean?”
“When I try to, you know, connect to him?” My nails dug into my palms. The story I was fabricating was flimsy at best. “I saw white— like a white wall, which made it hard for me to get a lot of information out of him.”
“Huh.” Claude appeared thoughtful, and for some reason those balls of anxiety started to knot even further in my stomach. “This shield you saw was attempting to block you?”
“Yes. I thought if it was that, it could be broken.” My stomach churned upon me admitting that out loud to Claude. It left a foul taste in my mouth.
Claude said nothing for a long moment. “A prince would be far harder for you to read than a lord.” He then looked to Hymel as I frowned. “I’ll speak with you later.”
The dismissal was clear. So was Hymel’s irritation. He slammed his glass down on the credenza before stiffly exiting the study.
Claude arched a brow as Hymel shut the door behind him. “He’s a prickly fellow, isn’t he?”
“He doesn’t like it when you pull rank and he’s reminded that you’re the baron.”
“And that he is not?”
“Yes.” I watched Claude stand. “But you know that.”
“I do so love to needle him when I can.” He flashed a quick grin, motioning me to him. “Come.”
The danger of Claude somehow figuring out I’d admitted to being sent to the Prince to gain information seemed to have passed. Curiosity rose in its place as I stood, coming toward him.
He moved aside, extending a hand to the side of his desk free from letters. “Sit.”
I hopped up on the desk, wrapping my fingers around the edge of the smooth wood. My feet dangled a few inches from the floor.
Claude looked me over slowly, starting with my face and then moving lower, as if he were searching for signs of something.
Having no idea what he was up to, I held still as he brushed the strands of hair over my shoulder.
“Did you have a good evening?” he asked abruptly. “Truly?”
“Yes.”
There was a brief smile. “I want all the details of what transpired between the two of you.”
“Well . . .” I drew the word out, quickly thinking of what I could or should share. “It appears that you may have also believed you told him that I would be joining him, but actually didn’t.”
“Fuck.” His fingers halted along the strands of my hair. “Seriously?”
I nodded.
“I am sorry. Really.” His eyes briefly met mine. “I wouldn’t have sent you if I’d known it was the Prince of Vytrus.”
I wasn’t sure I believed him. Claude was capable of making any unwise decision while intoxicated.
“How did he respond to your appearance?”
“He was . . .” My brows lifted as he touched my chin, turning my head to the left and then the right. “He was caught off guard by it.”
“Did he harm you?” he asked, a lock of hair falling across his forehead. “In any way?”
“No.” I realized he was looking for a sign— a mark or bruising. “He didn’t, Claude.”
He said nothing for a long moment. “Did you service him?”
