the gowns.
Ava might have the power to end the hatred. If she could repay her brother’s debt, if she could make Rothcastle see she was human, her brother was human, perhaps she could repair the breach. And once she was free, assuming Christian was good to his word, she would work on teaching her brother the same thing.
It was a poor prospect, but perhaps the only one left. But first she would have to surrender her body to a man who despised everything her name stood for.
She shivered.
“Let me get you a wrap,” the servant said, mistaking her shiver for one of physical, not emotional reaction. She pulled a thin, pink swatch of silk from the folds of the garments and handed it over.
“Then we shall work on your hair. You can wear that gown today, and I’ll work on altering these others to better fit you. They will not be professionally done, but they will do.”
Ava shook her head as she took a place at the dressing table. “I assure you, I appreciate anything you can do for me.”
Laura did not respond, but began to brush Ava’s hair. As Ava stared at herself in the mirror, she realized in some ways she was going to battle. Her clothing, her hair, her demeanor would have to serve as her armor. And her weapons would be wiles she did not even fully understand.
But if she wished to win this war, to end this war, she would have to do her best with what she had.
Christian paced his office, jumping at every shuffle in the hall, every voice of every servant. He had been told that Ava was awake and readying herself to meet with him. She would be here soon, and he could hardly restrain himself.
Her body could very soon be his. This was a fact that gave him far more pleasure than the mere act of revenge upon her brother should. His desire for her was personal, and even though he knew he should not encourage such a connection, he still thrilled at the memory of their searing kiss.
There was a light knock on his door, and he froze in his pacing to stare at the barrier. He smoothed his jacket and adjusted the position of his cane before he called out, “Enter.”
The door opened and his sister’s lady’s maid, Laura, stepped inside. They did not make eye contact, just as they had not since Matilda’s death, when he had heard Laura, through the fog of his injuries, screaming that both he and Windbury were equal partners in her death.
Another man might have fired her when he was well enough, but Matilda had adored her maid. He could not bring himself to do it.
“Lady Ava, Your Grace,” Laura said softly and stepped aside to allow Ava entry. “May I bring you anything else?”
He shook his head, his gaze never leaving Ava. “No. Thank you.”
The maid stepped away, closing the door with the slightest of clicks, though Ava jumped like it was the recoil of a rifle that had sounded in the room.
She looked lovely, of course. The pink of her gown, likely one from his sister’s wide selection, highlighted the translucent beauty of her skin and made the auburn highlights of her hair gleam a little brighter.
“Would you like tea?” he asked, motioning to the pot on the table. “My cook also prepared a bit to eat, since you are too late for breakfast.”
She shook her head. “No, thank you. I apologize for the lateness of my rising. I assure you I am not normally a woman who sleeps almost to luncheon.”
He waved a hand to dismiss the apology. “You’ve had a trying time as of late. I thought it best to allow you to sleep as long as you needed your rest.”
“That is a…kindness.” She emphasized the word and seemed a bit confused by it. As if she had not expected to find anything like that in him.
And when his rational mind retook him, perhaps she was correct. He cleared his throat. “It is nothing, I assure you.”
His suddenly distant tone seemed to bring her back to reality. She clenched her fists at her sides. “I have considered your offer.”
Arching a brow, he took a seat at his desk
Ava might have the power to end the hatred. If she could repay her brother’s debt, if she could make Rothcastle see she was human, her brother was human, perhaps she could repair the breach. And once she was free, assuming Christian was good to his word, she would work on teaching her brother the same thing.
It was a poor prospect, but perhaps the only one left. But first she would have to surrender her body to a man who despised everything her name stood for.
She shivered.
“Let me get you a wrap,” the servant said, mistaking her shiver for one of physical, not emotional reaction. She pulled a thin, pink swatch of silk from the folds of the garments and handed it over.
“Then we shall work on your hair. You can wear that gown today, and I’ll work on altering these others to better fit you. They will not be professionally done, but they will do.”
Ava shook her head as she took a place at the dressing table. “I assure you, I appreciate anything you can do for me.”
Laura did not respond, but began to brush Ava’s hair. As Ava stared at herself in the mirror, she realized in some ways she was going to battle. Her clothing, her hair, her demeanor would have to serve as her armor. And her weapons would be wiles she did not even fully understand.
But if she wished to win this war, to end this war, she would have to do her best with what she had.
Christian paced his office, jumping at every shuffle in the hall, every voice of every servant. He had been told that Ava was awake and readying herself to meet with him. She would be here soon, and he could hardly restrain himself.
Her body could very soon be his. This was a fact that gave him far more pleasure than the mere act of revenge upon her brother should. His desire for her was personal, and even though he knew he should not encourage such a connection, he still thrilled at the memory of their searing kiss.
There was a light knock on his door, and he froze in his pacing to stare at the barrier. He smoothed his jacket and adjusted the position of his cane before he called out, “Enter.”
The door opened and his sister’s lady’s maid, Laura, stepped inside. They did not make eye contact, just as they had not since Matilda’s death, when he had heard Laura, through the fog of his injuries, screaming that both he and Windbury were equal partners in her death.
Another man might have fired her when he was well enough, but Matilda had adored her maid. He could not bring himself to do it.
“Lady Ava, Your Grace,” Laura said softly and stepped aside to allow Ava entry. “May I bring you anything else?”
He shook his head, his gaze never leaving Ava. “No. Thank you.”
The maid stepped away, closing the door with the slightest of clicks, though Ava jumped like it was the recoil of a rifle that had sounded in the room.
She looked lovely, of course. The pink of her gown, likely one from his sister’s wide selection, highlighted the translucent beauty of her skin and made the auburn highlights of her hair gleam a little brighter.
“Would you like tea?” he asked, motioning to the pot on the table. “My cook also prepared a bit to eat, since you are too late for breakfast.”
She shook her head. “No, thank you. I apologize for the lateness of my rising. I assure you I am not normally a woman who sleeps almost to luncheon.”
He waved a hand to dismiss the apology. “You’ve had a trying time as of late. I thought it best to allow you to sleep as long as you needed your rest.”
“That is a…kindness.” She emphasized the word and seemed a bit confused by it. As if she had not expected to find anything like that in him.
And when his rational mind retook him, perhaps she was correct. He cleared his throat. “It is nothing, I assure you.”
His suddenly distant tone seemed to bring her back to reality. She clenched her fists at her sides. “I have considered your offer.”
Arching a brow, he took a seat at his desk
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