He inclined his head, then finished off the whiskey and set the glass down. “I would like a bath since I have such . . . fond memories of how we met.”
But that wasn’t how we met. Not really. “Okay?”
A faint grin appeared. “You have been sent to service me, correct?” He faced me fully. “Would drawing my bath not be a part of that?”
Yes. Yes, it would, and I felt foolish for not realizing that immediately. I opened my mouth as he reached back, grasping the neckline of his linen shirt. Whatever I was going to say died on my tongue as he pulled the shirt over his head and cast it aside.
I inhaled softly as I eyed his chest, the slabs of tightly coiled muscles of his abdomen, and the tapering of his waist above the band of his pants. There wasn’t even a faint scar from where the lunea spikes had pierced his skin. Instead, power vibrated from every inch of muscle. Energy coated those defined lines.
“Or we can skip the bath and go straight to far more enjoyable forms of service if you want,” Lord Thorne offered, snapping my gaze to his face. “I will not mind at all.”
I pivoted, hurrying into the bathing chamber without saying a single word.
His low, husky chuckle followed.
Good gods, what kind of favored courtesan dashed out of the chamber at the mere suggestion of sex? And that was obviously what he believed me to be. After all, it was how I presented myself to all of Claude’s targets, but I was acting like a bashful virgin.
What was wrong with me? It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen him nude before. It just . . . Everything felt different now.
Cursing my reaction, and well, everything, I reached to flip on the light only to realize there were no powered lights in this space. I quickly set about lighting the numerous candles spaced on the stone ledges circling the oval-shaped chamber. Willing my hands to stop trembling, I went to the deep and wide tub in the center of the room. I cranked the water until it poured into the porcelain basin, using these moments to collect myself.
Who Lord Thorne was to me— not that he was anything to me— didn’t matter. Neither did the fact that he’d yet to recognize me. Nor did how . . . nice he was to look at, but that was rather a small blessing, wasn’t it? Or large blessing. The only thing that mattered was that I needed to get it together, to find some level of calm. Concentrate. Either Claude was too stoned to consider that my abilities wouldn’t work on a Hyhborn or he obviously believed my abilities could, and maybe he would know that, being that he descended from them, but . . .
But wouldn’t that also mean he knew another who could do the same as me? Which I was positive he didn’t.
Either way, I needed to get my intuition to work, to continue to prove how indispensable I was to the Baron. That keeping me comfortable was a priority, because if not . . .
The ever-present fear of returning to that desperate kind of life threatened to take root in my chest, but I squashed it. Giving in to it wouldn’t help. I shifted focus. There was this . . . this sense that I could get inside the Hyhborn’s mind. A knowledge I couldn’t back up but was there nonetheless. It was intuition telling me that I could. I just needed to figure out how.
But I did know what he’d shared with me already. That he was here because he’d been looking for something he’d believed that Muriel knew how to locate. However, I wasn’t sure if that was why he was here, at the manor. That was what I needed to discover.
Testing the water, I hoped Lord Thorne liked it warm as I cut off the faucet. I rose to retrieve a towel, to place it on the nearby stool as I said, “Your bath is ready, my lord.”
“Thorne,” he corrected.
I gave a little jump at how close his voice was. How one of his size could move so silently still was beyond me. Picking up a fluffy towel, I turned and nearly dropped it.
A wicked sense of déjà vu swept through me. Once more, Lord Thorne stood in the doorway, and he was completely, utterly naked, and I was transfixed by the display of smooth, sandy skin and taut muscle as my gaze lowered to his cock. My breath caught. He was thick and long, yet not even fully aroused. How could one fully take him—
All right. I needed to stop thinking. And staring. Maybe even breathing. Perhaps dying would be a good choice at the moment.
“Keep looking at me like that and I don’t think a bath will be what I’ll need.”
Heat exploded in my cheeks as I forced my gaze to his, hoping that in the candlelight he couldn’t see how red my face felt. I didn’t think courtesans blushed at a nude man.