The soft sound of dripping water echoed against the marble walls of Julian Ravenshade's private bath chamber, bubbles floating into lazy patterns around Elowen Grantham's bare shoulders. The tub was carved from obsidian stone. It was indulgent.
Elegant.
And terrifying.
Her hands sank beneath the waterline, her eyes darting toward the door as if it might swing open any second.
What if he came in?
What if he saw her?
Oh heavens. What sinful thoughts.
The water did nothing to still her pounding heart. Even in his absence, Julian's presence lingered in every part of this room—his scent, his shadow, the echo of his cold smile. She had never bathed in a tub that felt more like a temptation.
She closed her eyes and sighed.
Then—
"Miss Grantham?" Keeper Jan's voice floated through the door, muffled but clear.
Elowen nearly jumped.
"Your clothes are ready. Breakfast is served already."
"Thank you, Mrs Jan!" she called back, cheeks flushed redder than the bathwater.
