Finally he spoke. “You have a beautiful body, Nesta, and it has given me pleasure to watch you bathe, but put something on now. Cover yourself.” A note of exasperation sounded in the command.

Duty bound or not, angry or not, he had been distracted by her nakedness.

It was all she needed to know.

She rose to her feet. A robe waited on a stool by the hearth, but she did not reach for it. Instead she turned and walked to the chest near the door. His gaze took in the full view of her.

She plucked a sleeveless, sideless surcotte from the chest and slipped it on. Its panels dipped low on her chest and back, and fluttered along her sides, exposing glimpses of her hips and legs. Turning, she raised her gaze. Marcus’s lowered lids and tight jaw revealed what she already knew. The hint of nakedness was even more enticing than all of it.

Good. The longer he was distracted by lust, the farther away Genith would get.

He speared her with a glare. “You like it, don’t you? Making men want you.”

“I suspect it is much like the feeling you get when you unhorse a man in a joust.”

“What did your husband think of your tournaments?”

“He was not young, but lusty enough. It was he who taught me how to use my weapons.”

He took dark amusement in that. “Where did you send Genith, Nesta?”

“I sent her nowhere.”

“She left here.”

“Perhaps she went for a walk. This cottage has been too crowded.” She spoke lazily while she turned a bit and raised her arms to release the knot into which she had bound her hair while she washed. She noted with satisfaction that Marcus did not miss how the gesture revealed the side of her breast.

She strolled back to the hearth, kicking at the panels of the surcotte, giving him more to see. Each step bought Genith more time. She struggled to suppress the undeniable stirring in her breasts and stomach that his attention was causing.

Gazing into the fire, she waited for more interrogation. It did not come. That worried her. He should be furious with impatience. He should be bellowing demands for information. A good argument would delay him a long while, and she could keep him dangling until night with ambiguous tidbits and flashes of skin. Instead he just stood there, burning her back with his gaze, causing unwelcome thrills to tremble through her.

“Nesta.” His soft, quiet voice was right behind her. She had not heard him move, and she started with surprise. The word sounded soothing and gentle, like the uttering of a man making love.

She glanced back at him. He didn’t look gentle. His eyes held wicked lights.