The answer came an instant later. Now that every one of her senses was flaring, it took everything she had not to tense as she felt the large presence move up behind her.

“Aren’t you going in?”

The deep voice made her spine straighten and skin tighten. The reaction was anger and annoyance. She was sure of it. Mostly.

Very slowly, she turned to meet the penetrating gaze of Alex Seton.

If she needed proof of the danger and threat he posed, she had it. She’d been trained to evade, but he’d been trained to track—probably by the same person.

She should be thinking of how to rid herself of him as quickly and definitively as possible. Instead she was struck by the crystal-clear blue of his eyes—the color seemed almost unreal—and by the weariness of his expression.

He looked as if he’d barely slept in weeks. As if he had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He’d even missed a spot shaving this morning. The thin line along the left underside of his jaw seemed a testament to his exhaustion, and something about that made her chest clench. She felt the strangest urge to reach out and smooth a comforting hand over that stubbled jaw.

But why should she care if he was tired? Why should she want to comfort him? He’d followed her, she reminded herself. She couldn’t allow that to happen.

She lifted her chin, eyeing him angrily. “Not that it is any business of yours, but not today.”

“Perhaps you should reconsider,” he said.

She frowned at his dark tone, at the same time noticing the tiny white lines around his hard-set mouth. He was acting angry, which didn’t make sense. If anyone had a right to be angry it was she.

She crossed her arms. Putting a little more of a barricade between them seemed prudent; she sensed he very much wanted to put his hands on her. “Why would I wish to do that?”

“If that gown you are wearing is any indication, you need some new ones. Preferably with a bit more fabric.”

She gasped—a few times—in both shock and outrage while staring at him incredulously. Of all the . . . “How dare you! What I wear is no business of yours. The last time I looked you are not my father or my husband. I have a guardian—I do not need another.”

“You do if he lets you walk around in gowns like that.” He paused, giving her a hard look. “Men might get the wrong impression.”

She was holding on to her temper by the last wispy threads, yet her voice was deceptively calm. “And what impression is that?”

If she expected him to back down, she was to be disappointed. Looking her square in the eye, he said baldly, “That you wish to bed them. Despenser clearly had that idea.”