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“Your mother’s …” Rune jerked her face toward him, wild-eyed. “May I?”
“Go ahead.”
The smile that bloomed across her face did something strange to his insides.
Rune scooped every book from the shelf and carried them to the worktable, where she dropped them in a pile and sat down on a stool.
Awe softened her face as she drank in the images, reverently turning the pages. She looked almost …innocent. Gideon brought the lamp over to the table so she could see better.
He’d been careful not to touch her today, remembering his brother’s words in the boxing ring. Remembering who she was. Whohewas.
You are beneath her.
Gideon picked up a stool and set it down on the other side of the table, where he planted himself.
He immediately realized his mistake.
From here, he had a perfect view of the low scoop of her bralette, the delicate lace leaving little to the imagination. He had just measured her bust, so why it suddenly mattered, he wasn’t sure. He kept his gaze on the line of her throat instead.
If they were truly courting, though …
If they weretogether…
He shot his thoughts dead.Didn’t you learn your lesson from the first witch who drew you in?
He and Rune would never be together. If Rune was the Moth, this courtship—if he could even call it that—ended with Gideon arresting her and Rune going to the purge. And if she wasn’t the Moth, he’d step aside and hope his brother finally worked up the courage to go after what he wanted.
And that was the way it should be.
When she caught him staring, Gideon looked away too late. Their gazes snagged.
Slowly, Rune closed the sketchbook she was hunched over and rose from the stool.
“I guess I should return this.” Walking around the table, she let the blanket fall from her shoulders, holding it out to him. When he took it, she hoisted herself onto the table directly beside him, letting her lovely legs dangle over the edge.
Gideon fought to keep his eyes on her face, when all he wanted to do was let them drop.
Picking up the notebook with her measurements, Rune flipped to the dress he’d designed for her. Her fingers traced the lines of his sketch the same way her eyes had traced his mother’s designs.
He’d pleased her. It was written clear across her face.
He didn’t like what this knowledge did to him. Warming him through. Thawing his icy heart.
It shouldn’t feel this good to make her happy.
“What are you doing this afternoon?” she said, touching her fingertip to the uppermost button of his shirt. “I have a luncheon at noon, but after that …There’s a quiet beach near Wintersea House where I ride sometimes. Do you want to join me?”
“Can’t,” he managed, drawing the blanket into his lap. “I have to work today.”
She ducked her chin, disappointed. Not wanting it to seem like he was rejecting her, he quickly added, “Depending on howthis evening’s transfer goes, I might get off early. I could meet you afterward.”
Her attention shot back to his face. “This evening’s transfer?”
He nodded. “Laila and I are transferring a witch to the palace prison.”
Rune lowered her gaze. “Is it far? The place you have to bring her from, I mean.” She slowly unfastened the button of his shirt. He had the urge to pull her down into his lap.
Focus, you idiot.
