“Lysithea.”
His voice permeated the steam of the bath chamber, stirring Lysithea from her reverie. Startled, she turned towards the door, her heart skipping a beat. He stood just outside, having nudged the door slightly ajar. His gaze descended hungrily upon her reclined form in the wooden tub.
“You’re taking quite a long time with your bath. What’s on your mind?”
His eyes drifted naturally from her flushed face to the contours of her body beneath the water’s surface, causing her to shrink back in modesty.
“Nothing, really,” she murmured.
She had not yet spoken to him about the child, and the secret was gnawing at her insides. Feeling that he could see right through her, she averted her gaze. This was not enough to turn him away, of course, because Ian was now her husband. He strode into the bath chamber and sat down beside the tub without a hint of hesitation.
“Truly nothing? You seem as though you were indulging in rather lascivious thoughts.”
