Page 74 of Fall of Ruin and Wrath

“Does he have a reason to worry?” Prince Thorne asked.

“He’s apparently behind on his quarterly tithes,” I shared, stomach churning. “He feared that you were sent by the King to collect them.”

His head tilted slightly. “Your baron saw me. Do I look like someone the King would send to collect tithes?”

“No.” I almost laughed, but nothing about this was funny. “But I also don’t think the Baron was in the . . . um, right frame of mind at the moment to recognize who you were.”

“That’s vastly understated.” His fingers began to move at my neck, pressing into the taut muscles there. “He was as high as the mountains of my Court.”

“True,” I whispered.

“So, he sent you to ferret out why I was here,” he surmised. “Instead of waiting till the morning, as I advised?”

“Yes.”

Tension bracketed his mouth, but the motions of his fingers remained gently, oddly soothing. “Are you even a courtesan?”

“Why does that matter?”

“Because it does.”

“It didn’t matter when you led me to believe you were a lord,” I pointed out, which a part of me fully recognized I probably shouldn’t have, but it was absurd and . . . and unfair for him to be questioning me when he too hadn’t exactly been forthcoming.

“We’re not talking about me,na’laa.”

“I have a feeling you’re calling me stubborn instead of brave when you call me that,” I muttered.

“Right now, it’s a mixture of both.” His gaze swept over my features. “Did you have a choice in coming to me tonight?”

“What?”

“Were you forced to come to me tonight?”

His questions knocked me off-kilter. I couldn’t fathom why he’d care if that was the case. “Yes.”

He stared at me for several moments; then his lashes swept down, shielding his eyes. “Your baron is a fool.”

I opened my mouth, but I couldn’t really disagree with that statement. Claude was a fool and so was I for going along with this. My heart pounded unsteadily in the silence that followed. I didn’t know what to expect, but then he let me go. Confused, I remained where I was, my body pressed tightly against his, my hands flattened on his shoulders, and . . . the rigid length of him still nestled against my core.

“You should dry off,” he said quietly.

“You . . . you’re not going to punish me?” I asked.

“Why would I punish you for the idiocy of another?” Those lashes lifted then, and the faintest burst of white was visible in his eyes.

More than a little surprised, I rose on shaky legs, causing water to splash over the sides as I stepped out of the tub. I quickly dried off and then retrieved my robe. Sliding it on, I hastily secured the sash and made sure the pouch had remained in the pocket. If that fell out . . . good gods.

I turned back to the Prince, startled into taking a step back. He’d already left the tub. I hadn’t heard him or a single sound of the water being disturbed. Meanwhile, I’d sounded like a small child splashing in a puddle when I had risen. I picked up a fresh towel, offering it to him.

He didn’t take it.

Instead, his hands went to my throat. I tensed, nearly losing my grip on the towel.

Prince Thorne’s lips quirked as he slipped his hands beneath my hair. His fingers grazed the nape of my neck, sending a series of shivers down my back. I stood there as he . . . as he tugged the heavy length of hair free from the robe.

“There,” he said.

My breath . . . itskipped.Thrown by his gesture, I went completely still again.