She didn’t know, but it hardly mattered. Her one night of exquisite pleasure was over now. The magic gone. She would have to be thankful for what she’d been given.
She was just inhaling his scent one final time when the bedchamber door suddenly burst open. Lia gasped and instantly dropped the pillow on the bed. Her eyes closed and she prayed that it was only Ms. Gilly behind her. Or one of the maids. Or— “Please continue,” came a deep male voice. A very familiar voice. Achingly familiar. One that had demanded wicked things of her in the bathtub last night, then whispered sweet and tender things while he held her close. “The bed must be seen to, of course…” he said.
She didn’t dare turn around. Not because Cas would recognize her—that was impossible—but because she couldn’t bear to look at him and see that cold, impersonal stare. Not after how he’d looked at her last night. With such fire, such desire, such knowing.
Magic was both wondrous and cruel.
“Yes, my lord.” She said the words softly, carefully, trying to hide her voice. He would not recognize her scarred face, but her voice… That could be the one thing to rouse suspicion.
“But first, see to my closet,” he commanded.
Was this going to be her punishment? An hour or more of Casworon Trevanion ordering her about—his maid…
Without a word, she started across the room, her limp as pronounced as ever. Maybe more so. Stress was not kind to ailments. Aware of his eyes on her, she straightened her spine as she moved. She despised the tears that threatened. She would not give in to emotion. This was as it should be. As it was meant to be.
“You hesitate,” he observed in a firm tone.
“No, my lord.” Chin lifted, she gripped the double doors and opened them wide.
The first thing she saw had her gasping, had her backing up a foot. “Oh…” There, on the floor, surrounded by several pairs of handsome Italian loafers, were her shoes from last night. Gold and glass slippers. She stared, her heart beating a frantic, confused, hopeful tattoo. If he’d not only kept them, but placed them with his own— “Was it in battle?” he asked, his voice no longer edged with authority Her heart lurched. No. No. No. She shook her head imperceptibly. “I’m sorry, my lord, I—”
“How you were injured?”
Her eyes closed on a sigh. This wasn’t happening. She had to do something…come up with something. He couldn’t know… “There was an accident on my family’s farm, my lord.” Was her voice high enough?
“Where is this farm?” he inquired. “And pray turn around to face your Master, female.”
Lia’s heart dropped into her belly. The very belly that had, only hours ago, thrummed with heat and climax. Lord Trevanion had just commanded her. She had no choice. She couldn’t disobey him. Breath caught in her lungs, she slowly turned, but kept her eyes on the rug.
“You won’t look at me?” he asked.
“I think it’s better if I don’t, my lord.”
She heard a sniff of irritation, then without warning, an object came flying at her. Time slowed. Born out of instinct long held and honed, Lia’s hand shot out and easily caught the object before it hit the wall.
Candlestick.
Her breath came out in a rush as she realized what had just happened, and that Casworon Trevanion knew exactly who and what she was.
Her lip curled. Pennice had given—and he had taken away.
No doubt, she would be out of this house before lunchtime.
Her eyes lifted to connect with those of the Master and Lord of the castle she’d called home for the past five months now. It hadn’t been a perfect existence, but it had suited her.
Where would she go now?
His gaze moved over her, from her maid’s uniform to her face. “It is you,” he said. The words were neither accusatory nor blissful.
“Yes,” she admitted.
For long seconds, Lia stood there under his scrutiny. Yes, Master Trevanion. That is a hideous, repulsive scar. And yes, I stand lopsided and damaged. And no, I didn’t tell you of it last night. What you had in the bathtub and your bed was an illusion. Now say what you must and release me.
“You were a Blade?” he said, his voice accusatory. “A Temple Blade?”
“Yes,” she confirmed, trying to hold back her tears.
“And a servant in my own home?”
His gaze moved over her again as if he was seeing her for the first time. She despised it. Despised herself. She wanted to run.
“Oh, Lia,” he breathed and crossed the room. Had her in his arms in seconds. “My Lia.”
Lia stood there, frozen, confused.
“Bloody hell, female,” he uttered, running his hands up her back. “I am so relieved to find you, to see you.
Her heart was pinging and paining, and she didn’t know which one to listen to. “And yet, you didn’t see me before,” she whispered back, tears pricking her eyes.