Leroy leaned against the carved panel, his gaze following every movement as Lorraine shed her silk dress. The fabric slipped down her shoulders like spilled moonlight before pooling soundlessly at her feet. Then, quickly came the shift as she changed to linen, plain and rough, swallowing her radiance as she tried to disguise herself.
She looked suddenly smaller, unbearably mortal, as if the tower walls might forget she had ever been its queen.
She bent to the pocket of her discarded gown, fingers searching. When she drew her hand back, he saw the gleam of green in her palm.
The emerald pin.
His emerald pin.
Something inside him tightened. That simple piece of jewelry, compared to her many treasures, was almost unworthy of her. And yet she held it now as though it were the only jewel in the world.
Her hand moved, subtly, toward the pocket of her linen dress.
He caught her wrist.
