Page 77 of Spar of Hearts

Her breathing steadied as she took stock of the rest of her body. She still had a skirt on. Her corset was still on, just loosened. Weakness radiated through her limbs, but aside from that, there wasn’t a scratch—or a bite—on her.

“I wouldn’t take blood, or anything else for that matter, from someone who was unconscious,” Roderick said, catching her fingering her neck. “You don’t have to worry about that.”

“I-I didn’t mean—”

“It’s all right. I’ve dealt with worse.” Groaning, he stood to his feet and stretched.

And in that same moment, every diplomatic thought Anya ever had went straight out to sea.

This was the first time she’d truly seen Roderick’s body. Yes, she’d mapped it with her fingertips at the manor and the inn, but her mind’s eye was not nearly as inviting as the reality unfolding before her. Her core melted as her eyes traced over his form, getting lost among the bristles of red hair and copious scars that spanned his square chest. One long, pale gash divided his left pectoral, just inches from his heart. A plane of muscle gave way to a deep V that dipped below the waist of his undershorts. She followed the lines to their inevitable point over the center of him, where a very respectable swell shoved against the midnight fabric. The salty sea seemed to bring new appreciation to her eyes.

He was…

A man. Not just an annoying presence in her life, or a knight, or an earl. A red-blooded Centarian man.

Roderick cleared his throat, snapping Anya out of her appraisal. She growled to herself and shook her head. It wasn’t even a full moon, and yet she was looking at him like a piece of mulberry pie. And a good-tasting one, at that. The tonic she took wasn’t doing a damn thing to help her out.

“My apologies, I, um—I was trying to remember what happened. Please enlighten me.”

Roderick crouched by the fire, poking the embers with a stick. The position only further accentuated the sinew of his sculpted legs, covered in thick red hair. “There was a storm, and you went overboard. Octavio thought it was magic, somehow. But that’s all I really know.” He kept his eyes trained on the flames.

“What about you?”

“What about me?” He glanced up, glacier eyes reflecting in the firelight. They were blue like the glacial wall, but unlike the icy divide, nothing about these eyes said “keep out.”

“You saved me.”

“I did what any loyal knight would do. Although, you are lucky that I have experience going overboard.” He peeked up at her and smirked.

His smile lessened her guilt. But it was still there. Though for what, she wasn’t sure. Was it really about tossing him overboard, or the secret she guarded? Given his outburst, it was obvious there was deep-rooted pain in his heart. Though now was hardly the time to address it.

“Do you think they’ll find us?” Anya asked, pacing in front of the fire.

Roderick nodded. “The breeze is drawing the smoke out of the cave. They’ll see it. It’s only a matter of time before Yomira pokes her head in.”

Anya glanced down at her corset. She wasn’t eager to fly again, but better Yomira than the entire crew. Especially when she looked like this.

“Worried about what a wyvern thinks of your ensemble?” Roderick chuckled and leaned back against the cave wall. Every time Anya looked over at him, her eyes would catch on his broad chest. She wanted to count those scars. She wanted to hear the story behind each one.

“No,” she replied, blushing hard but still tipping her chin up in defiance. Upon the sight of her dress neatly spread in front of the fire to dry, she became suddenly aware that Roderick must have been the one to undress her. Most alarmingly, her shoes were gone. Had they come off in the water? Did he take them off and see the scar on her foot?

“Where are my shoes?” she asked hesitantly.

Roderick rubbed the back of his neck. “Probably at the bottom of the sea by now. Why? I thought you hated shoes.”

“I do, but I—” She froze. She’d let her guard down, and now one of her masquerade mannerisms was confirmed, fully sober this time. She glanced at Roderick. His face betrayed nothing. She abandoned the answer. More words would only be her undoing.

“Look, Anya…I know I said it before, but I really am sorry about the other day. I lost control of myself. It isn’t your fault for looking like…someone I knew.” He rubbed a hand over his scruffy jawline.

She stiffened. She didn’t just look like someone.

She was the someone.

How could she even respond to that? Was this really a time that called for digging a little deeper? Even if it wasn’t, a sadistic curiosity got the better of her. It would serve as a distraction regardless.

“Who?” she asked nonchalantly, fumbling with the ties behind her back. Threads were better than buttons with her Lycanian claws, but it was still a languishing task without Blackbird.

“Here, can I help?” Roderick rose to his feet with a grunt. His warmth was palpable as he stood behind her, despite the inches between them. “I’m pretty good with knots. Same concept, right?”