Draven's head snapped toward the threshold. The relaxed, easy posture he had assumed on the couch vanished instantly. His powerful frame went completely rigid, his dark eyes locking onto mine with a sudden, unmoored shock. He didn't say a word.
He just stared at me—his chest rising and falling slowly as his gaze swept over my faded grey dress, my stained apron, and the raw, agonizing betrayal written all over my face.
Behind him, Lady Courtney didn't move away immediately. Her fingers remained curled possessively against his shoulder, her eyes narrowing as she stared down her aristocratic nose at the "maid" who had dared to barge in.
But Draven didn't look at Courtney. The moment he caught the liquid shine of tears threatening to spill from my eyes, he smoothly but firmly shifted his weight, stepping completely out of Courtney's reach. Her hands slid uselessly off his shoulders, dropping into the empty air.
