Silence. That was all she was going to get from him.
***
He walked the hallways of the castle, doing his routinely check of the guards posted at every door. They saluted him, and he nodded in return. They were good men. He knew all of them by name, where they had grown up, if they were citadel folk or had arrived from the countryside to chase a better life for themselves. They took their position seriously and their patriotism ran deep. Putting a blade in their hands had been the easy part; the hard part was trusting that they would know how to use them if there was a sudden cause.
His father had asked about the extra guards but hadn’t put up any protests. Ewan had the feeling his father wanted to see how the responsibility of the crown would be handled once it was handed over, and he thought he was doing a good job of showing that he could be trusted to cope with it all well enough.
It had been an hour since her arrival and he found himself in the eastern wing of the castle. There was the hallway leading to her rooms and the door leading into them. He hesitated, but then thought it would be better to get her measure now. It would let him hatch a plan of how best to handle her presence.
Was she as big a threat as his mind insisted on making her out to be, or had the past year served to soften her somewhat? Or perhaps being in surroundings where she did not constantly have to worry for her safety would help to finally loosen that stubborn tongue of hers.
He entered without knocking and walked through the lush parlor that preceded her drawing room, which led to her bedroom. He thought the rooms were too quiet to harbor their new occupant and wondered if perhaps she had been summoned to an audience with the king. She was to be made an example of, after all, and she should know exactly what was expected of her. His father might very well have seen fit to take it upon himself. He would undoubtedly be informing her of the closed parameters she was expected to move within during her confinement with them. However long that confinement was going to last.
The possibility was that her whereabouts would be their responsibility until her dying breath.
The thought was mildly overwhelming as, should that be the case, she would be part of his kingly responsibilities. He would hold the key to her rooms and knowing her whereabouts at all times would be part of his duty. For some reason, he hadn’t thought as far as that.
The fact that he was distracting himself with that conundrum meant that he was entirely unprepared for the sight which met him once he entered her bedroom. In fact, he had his breath stolen right from out of his chest.
She was standing before her vanity with nothing but a slip on.
A slip that did very little to hide her modesty, truth be told.
She was leaning over, her hair dripping from the water she had just dipped it into, contained in the deep bowl placed in front of the vanity’s mirror. She turned at the sound of him in the doorway, her eyes widening but before she could scream, he had smacked his hands in front of his own eyes.
“Forgive me, I’m sorry,” he stammered, backing out of the doorway and slamming the bedroom door behind him.
He should have left the rooms altogether but felt too unsteady. He sunk down on the nearest chair, his cheeks burning both with shame and misplaced fury with her for daring to get undressed so quickly upon her arrival.
He regained some of his composure, fighting off the images of the curves of her hips and the hint of her buttocks through the thin fabric of the slip. Perhaps she had done it on purpose, knowing that he would come knocking. Of course, he hadn’t knocked. And how could she have known that he would seek her when he himself hadn’t?
Why had he come here?
Because she’s my prisoner, he reminded himself.And I am to do as I please with her.
At that thought, he got to his feet, took a breath to steady himself, and stepped back up to the door.
“I shall come in,” he declared, not waiting for a response before he turned the doorknob and stepped back inside.
She had pulled on the silk robe that had been provided for her. Her dark hair was still wet, creating a dark patch on the silk where the locks rested. Her eyes were telling him she disliked the intrusion, but she wasn’t offering up any form of protest.
“I’m to get dressed for dinner,” she stated, a touch of impatience there.
“Will it take you long to get ready, my lady?” he asked, unable to not be cruel about it. “I didn’t see you bringing trunks of clothing with you.”
“I’m fine with the dress I have,” she replied.
“Your one dress?” he wondered. “I remember you wearing green when you welcomed me to Fawha. It’s the color of my kingdom in case you’d forgotten. Wouldn’t it be suitable for you to wear it to dinner?”
“I’m fine with the dress I have,” she repeated, a streak of pain in her eyes he couldn’t tell the origin of.
He furrowed his brows at her.
“Do you know why I came in here?” he asked.
“To ogle me?”
The reply was so swift and carried such a sharpness to it that his mouth began to grow dry. It would be better if they didn’t address the fact that he’d practically seen her naked. In fact, it would be better if he never thought of it again.
