It felt like a jab through the heart. He did his best not to recoil.
She strode through the doorway and shut the door.
In his face.
Dammit. He clenched a fist, ready to punch a hole in the damned door. He still wanted to kiss her. He wanted to tempt her. Hell, he simply wanted her.
To what end? Her words echoed in his mind, and he let his arm drop to his side.
If he started something with her, how would it end? Would he end up trying to separate her from her adopted sisters and making her miserable instead of happy? He’d never known anyone from the Three Cursed Clans who had managed to have a happy relationship.
He sighed. He needed to keep his priorities straight. They had work to accomplish, so he should be concentrating on that.
But he still wanted to kiss her. With a groan he realized what the real question was. Not if he wanted her. That was a clear yes. But she was leaving in a month. The real question was—if he fell for her, would he be able to let her go?
* * *
While Nissa untied the laces on Gwennore’s gown, her thoughts kept returning to the scene in the hallway. She’d come so close to kissing him! Good goddesses, she’d been so tempted. And then he’d asked her to date him?
She shook her head. Of all the things to focus on, that’s where her thoughts kept going? She should be making more plans on detecting the poison and debunking the so-called curse. But as she slipped on her nightgown, she kept wondering what Silas would think of her now. Would he still find her beautiful?
She glanced at the door that led into his dressing room. Was that the sound of running water? Was he bathing?
Don’t think about him. But how odd that he’d mentioned that Puff had an extra-large heart. When she’d done a reading on him, she’d noticed the same thing about him. It seemed like a strange coincidence—
“All done, my lady.” Nissa’s words interrupted her thoughts.
“Thank you, Nissa. You may go now.”
“Good evening, then.” Nissa bobbed a curtsy and made a quick exit through the bedchamber.
Gwen glanced once again at the door to Silas’s dressing room. He wouldn’t dare … she winced, recalling how close he’d come to kissing her. And all those outrageous comments he’d made. She’d been feverish with desire? And they’d been caught up in a blazing inferno of passion?
Oh, he would dare, the scoundrel. She dragged a chair over and rammed it against the door. He could probably hear the noise she was making, but that should make it clear that he was not welcome.
She strode into her bedchamber, closing the door to her dressing room behind her. As tense as she was, she feared she would have trouble sleeping. But it had been such an awfully long day that within minutes of crawling into the large bed, she fell fast asleep.
Some time later, she stirred when a sound emanated from her dressing room. It’s nothing. She rolled over and snuggled deeper into the wide, comfy bed.
The door to her dressing room made a slight creaking noise. Her eyes fluttered open, but she couldn’t see anything. The fire in her hearth had gone out during the night. A few glowing coals provided enough light that she could barely discern the blurred outlines of a few pieces of furniture. It’s nothing.
A shadow moved into view.
With a gasp, she sat up. It’s definitely something.
“Don’t be alarmed.”
It’s Silas! “What—what are you doing here?”
“No one will believe we’re lovers if the servants discover us sleeping in separate beds.”
He meant to sleep with her? “No!” She dragged the red velvet coverlet up to her chin. “You’re taking this lover pretense much too seriously!”
“Shall I take it lightly then?” He bounced onto the bed.
“What are you doing? You can’t get into my bed.”
“Oh, that reminds me.” He pulled back the edge of the coverlet. “I need to be under the covers, so it looks like I slept here.”
“You’re not sleeping here.”
His grin flashed in the dark. “You want to do something else?”
“No!”
“Ah, rejected again. How many wounds must I endure?” He pulled off his shirt.
“What are you doing?” She scooted to her edge of the bed.
He tossed the shirt onto the floor. “We have to make it believable. I never sleep with a shirt on.” He fumbled underneath the sheet.
She eyed him warily. “What are you doing now?”
“Just a minute.” He lay back and raised his hips. “There.” He sat up and pulled his breeches out from underneath the sheet. “I never make love with my clothes on.”
She gasped as he tossed the breeches across the room. “This is outrageous! Are you totally…”
“Naked? No, I still have on some drawers. But it might be more believable if I take them—”
“No!”
“Very well.” He flashed another grin. “Anything to make you more comfortable.”
“I’m not comfortable!” She grabbed a spare pillow and jammed it between the two of them. “Don’t you dare cross this line.”
“So you’re all right with me staying?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Gwennie.” He stretched out on his side, his head propped up on his hand. “I have the upmost respect for you. I won’t do anything to upset you.”
“I’m already upset.”
“I’ll stay on my side of the bed and leave you alone. In fact, you’ll be even safer with me here, because I can protect you. So go back to sleep.”
“How could I possibly sleep with you in my bed?”
He shrugged the shoulder he wasn’t lying on. “You ignore me.”
Ignore him? When he was practically naked and the sheet only reached his waist? And his chest looked so … interesting. She turned her head, focusing on nothing in front of her. “I won’t be able to sleep.”
“Are you not used to sharing a bed?”
“I am, actually.”
“I’ll kill him.”
She snorted. “You’re always joking.”
“Not always. Who is the bastard who shared your bed?”
She gave him a wry look. “Your sister. And if you don’t behave yourself, I’ll tell her
