Delphine's body suddenly stiffened, not daring to move an inch, and she didn't look back.
Ignatius Leclair saw her like a little beast, her eyes betraying the panic and tension she tried to suppress, while her face maintained an outward facade of calm composure. She resembled a territorial cat, poised to strike at the intruder with its claws when the moment was right, a sight that held a certain charm.
Ignatius Leclair leaned down toward her.
The man's breath was steady and deep, brushing against the delicate skin near her ear, leaving goosebumps in its wake. Delphine felt her breathing becoming labored, preparing to push him away, but Ignatius already reached out to tuck the stray strands of her hair behind her ear. Then he stepped back and said in his husky voice, "Your hair is messy."
Delphine, partially irritated, ignored him. She moved to the sofa by the window, picked up a book that Desmond Wood had bought, and began reading.
