“No, we’re not. You’re trying to make decisions for me, just like Saint.”

He bristled at the words.

“When I made that deal with Holland, I did it on my own. You were never supposed to be a part of this.”

“Fable, I love you,” he breathed, still staring at my feet. “I don’t want to do any of this without you.”

The anger I’d felt was suddenly washed out by sadness. West was doing the only thing he knew how to do. “Will you look at me?”

He finally lifted his gaze.

“Would you have hurt that kid? Really?”

He bit the inside of his cheek. “I don’t think so.”

It was an honest answer, but I didn’t like it. “We said we weren’t going to do this by the rules. Remember?”

“I remember.”

“You’re not Saint. Neither am I.”

His eyes trailed over me, tightening.

“What’s wrong?”

He let out a frustrated breath. “This.” He motioned to the air between us and then to the frock. “All of it.”

I looked down at my skirts, trying not to laugh. I cocked my head to the side, narrowing my eyes playfully. “Are you trying to say you don’t like my frock?”

But he wasn’t taking the bait. “I don’t like it,” he said flatly.

“Why not?”

He raked a hand into his hair, holding it back from his face as he scrutinized the shimmering silk. His gaze was cold. “You don’t look like you. You don’t smell like you.”

I couldn’t help but smile even though I could see it annoyed him. But I loved the way he looked standing there barefoot by the window, half of his shirt untucked. It was the side of West I only got glimpses of.

I took another step toward him, the length of the skirts dragging on the floor behind me.

“I would be happy if I never saw you in one of those stupid things again,” he said, finally grinning.

“Fine.” I reached up and unhooked the buttons one at a time until it was loose enough to slide over my shoulders, and West watched as it dropped to the floor in a puddle of green. The underdress was almost as absurd as the frock, tied in tiny white satin ribbons that met in bows at each of my hips. “Better?”

“Better,” he conceded.

For a moment, it was as if we weren’t in Sagsay Holm. As if we’d never come to the Unnamed Sea or met Holland. But his smile fell again, like he was thinking the same thing.