The Dragon's Match

XVIII

Continuing, Lillian trailed a fingertip against the polished edge of a vanity, lingering over the shaving utensils stacked neatly upon the top and to one corner. She caught her reflection in the looking glass and almost did not recognise herself. Her hair was a wild mane that cascaded over her shoulders, unbound, and the shirt dipped negligently over one shoulder, leaving the webbing of her scars exposed and on display. She glanced away quickly and moved from the vanity, tugging the shirt to cover her marred skin only to have the oversized garment droop back down shortly after.

She should leave, she knew she should, and Lillian found it personally offensive that she was proving to be a right snoop, yet her eyes caught on a modestly-sized writing desk pushed against one corner. Dark shelves surrounded the space, littered with books of renowned human literature- quite possibly a collection of Aëghan's favourite first editions- and atop the desk lay several leather-bound ledgers that caused a frown to knit her brows together.

Despite her better judgement, she thumbed open the topmost ledger to reveal rows upon rows of balanced accounts- numbers and entries filling the page to the very bottom. She peered closer, dipping slightly at the waist to peruse the curling prose better. Momentarily, Lillian was suffused with no small amount of surprise to discover the entries pertained to an eerily well-managed estate- much like the Ravensfield ledgers she used to study with her father and the factotum when Derrick Adams was still alive. If her suspicions were correct, then Aëghan was fastidious to a fault when tracking the income of his holding and the expenditure- anything as innocuous as pastries had been accounted for, to the more elaborate expenditures of yards of timber for a new paddock he was building... but where? She straightened, her gaze lingering on the window outside. The forest surrounded them, trees looming for as far as she could see or envision. What would he need a pad-

"Our princess has finally arisen," his cheerful voice sounded from the threshold of the chamber and Lillian spun, a guilty flush blooming over her neck and cheeks.

Aëghan ambled into the room with all the languid grace of a lord, two steaming porcelain cups cradled in his hands. The sight of him only served to churn the remnants of her common sense into porridge.

What was it about this particular male that could render her stupid with a mere glance? All logic fled her mind at the tousled, unkempt appeal of his inky hair, the boyish grin dimpling his cheeks, the wry mischief glinting from the depths of his deeply blue eyes. He hadn't bothered to change his attire, the irreparably creased shirt he had slept in the night prior hanging over the dark trousers he wore, the neckline dipping low over his chest to reveal a tantalizing glimpse of smooth flesh beneath. And his feet were bare.

None of it should appeal to her. Lord help her, but it did.

"Lillian?" Aëghan halted before her, extending the cup of steaming liquid between them. "Ah, perhaps coffee will loosen your tongue. I have heard some humans fare better after partaking of it in the mornings."

She tore her gaze away from the humour displayed on his face, accepting the cup and cradling it to her chest. "Thank you," she mumbled. Truthfully, the reactions undulating through her body at the behest of the male before her made her feel disconcerted- especially after everything she had shared the evening prior. Especially since she had surmised that Aëghan had a purpose for her presence.

Suddenly, the touch of his fingers against her cheek as he brushed a tangle of her hair behind her ear snatched her gaze back to his. "If you are not averse to it," Aëghan began, his voice a quiet murmur between them, "I'd very much like for you to join me for a tour of the grounds since the weather is pleasant."

The sincerity and tenderness easily read in his gaze startled her and she shied away from his touch, her heartbeat doubling. "That... that would be acceptable," Lillian said, and because she was perhaps a coward right then and needing some space to compile her thoughts and feelings about everything that had transpired, she veered quickly towards the doorway, intending to barricade herself in her chambers until she was bathed and ready. "I need to change my attire." At those words, she became fundamentally aware that she was wearing little else other than a shirt before him, and the garment bared most of her legs to his scrutiny.