As he moved through the aft cabin, grooming and donning clothes, the exterior door to the dining cabin opened. The young soldier who delivered the meals—George was the name I’d pried from him yesterday—stepped in carrying a silver tray. And stopped.

His eyes flitted to me, where I stood beside a chair. They widened, blinked, and darted away. Then he hurried to the table.

“If you have something to say, Georgie, by all means…” I rested a fist on my cocked hip. “Let’s hear it.”

“Madam, y-y-you look…” The platter of dishes rattled as he set it down, losing his grip and poise. “You’re radiant.” His gaze snapped toward the day cabin, and his chin dropped to his cravat. “I mean to say, uh— My apologies, my lord.”

Without another glance in my direction, George swept out of the cabin.

“And that’s how you clear a room.” I started to turn toward the reason for his sudden departure. “Your presence seems to have that effect…”

My voice lost sound as I met Ashley’s gaze.

Hypnotic, shiver-inducing eyes. How unfair for a man to have eyes like that, with lashes so long and silky they cast crescent-shaped shadows on his cheeks. The black fringes made those ocean blue depths dominate his face and everything around him.

My attention lowered to a perfectly proportioned male chest encased in a red waistcoat of the shiniest silk. He was decked in clothing suited to royalty—an immaculately tailored blue frock, thigh-hugging breeches, and gold-buckled shoes. His white hose, made of woven wool, looked as though they’d been melted onto his defined calves.

I didn’t have to stretch my imagination to remember those legs, nude and flexing, as he chased his release.

He openly returned my assessment, his focus caressing my appearance at a leisurely crawl, his expression flat. Empty.

My nerves twisted. As his feet started moving toward me, I stood straighter, preparing for the worst. When he reached my side, his hand went to my hair, his fingers immediately catching on a knot I’d missed.

“I searched for a hairbrush and pins.” My cheeks heated. “I couldn’t find anything to tame—”

“Be silent while I look at you.”

“The laces on the back of my—”

“Quiet, woman.”

He paced a circuit around me, touching my body with only his gaze. Examining. Breathing. Driving me out of my skin. I felt like a target in a spyglass, waiting for the lit match to lower to the touchhole and drop thirty-two pounds of red-hot iron on my arse.

If I could only be so lucky.

After a full circle, he paused before me and stepped close. So close the buttons on his coat snagged on the gown’s embroidery. My heart stuttered as I stared straight ahead, where his cravat tucked into his shirt.