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“You’re such a spoilsport,” she chuckles. “Show me your favorite room.”

“My favorite?”

She closes the distance between us, tugging on my arm. “Yes. Show me.”

“I…” My mouth closes as I ponder this. “Okay. Come with me.”

I turn on my heel and lead her back through the dining room, through the great hall, to the opposite wing that leads deeper in. I can hear her steps echoing behind me, her gait quick and full of that same eagerness she seems to give everything else. It almost makesmeexcited to share this with her. I haven’t shared it with anyone in a very long time. Not since I came here with my da.

I pause when we get close to the entrance, turning back. “Close your eyes.”

“What? No.”

I cock a brow. “What happened to your sense of adventure?”

“I’m not entirely convinced you won’t chuck me down an old laundry chute the second I turn my back.”

I can’t help the way my lips curl, and I take a step closer, pressing a knuckle under her chin. “Now, does that sound like something I would do?”

“I…”

I don’t miss the way her eyes flick to my mouth, and I know she’s thinking about it. That she’s remembering how close we came to crossing a line only a short while ago. I tell myself that it’s good that we didn’t, that it would only complicate things—but that doesn’t stop me from wondering how good it might feel.

“Close your eyes, Key,” I urge softly.

I watch the delicate line of her throat bob with a swallow, and after only a second, her lashes flutter closed just as I asked. Myknuckle still rests against her chin, and with her eyes shut, I can almost imagine leaning in just a bit, closing the gap, it would be so easy…

I step back, taking her hand instead.

“Now watch your step,” I remind her.

She huffs. “Kind of hard when you told me to close my eyes.”

“Don’t be an arse.”

I lead her carefully into the room, watching the floor as I steer her toward its center. I do my best not to touch her too familiarly, keeping my fingers light against her waist as I turn her where I want her before stepping back. She still looks so eager—her cheeks are flushed and her breathing is just slightly quicker than it should be—and I realize that my excitement over something as simple as this is the most I’ve felt in a long time. I wonder what I might find if I explore that thought.

“Okay,” I tell her, taking another step back. “You can open them.”

Her lashes flutter open as she takes in her surroundings, letting out a gasp when she notices what I’ve brought her to see. The light from the stained-glass window slithers over the old floor, the sunshine streaming through it making the colors seem to dance.

“Wow,” she says, stepping closer.

I reach for her wrist, holding her back. “Careful. It’s ancient.”

“How did it survive this long?”

I shake my head. “No idea. It’s been here as long as we can remember.”

“What does it mean?”

I tug her a step closer, pointing out the images in the center. “It’s my family crest. The tree symbolizes strength. The sword is for power.”

“It’s so strange,” she says quietly. “Isn’t it crazy to think that you had ancestors in this room hundreds of years ago?”

“Aye,” I answer softly. “I reckon it is.” I can still feel the heat of her skin under my fingers, and I could probably let her go, but I don’t. “When I was a lad, I would sit in here for hours while my da scoured this place. The lights change with the movement of the sun.”

“It’s so beautiful,” she murmurs. “Do you ever think about taking it out of here?”