And that was all the permission I needed.
The pulse in my throat jumped. “Thank you,” I whispered, though he had already returned to his work.
The bath steamed, filling the chamber with heat. I let the water caress every inch of me, scrubbing away the dirt of travel, of pretense, of patience. I perfumed my skin, rubbed oil into my hair until it gleamed, and slipped into silk pajamas that clung in all the places they should.
When I stepped out, the mirror showed a woman ready to claim what she had waited for.
Tonight, he would not ignore me.
I studied my reflection in the bath mirror, steam curling around my face like a crown. My skin glowed pink from the heat, my hair gleamed with oil, and the silk I had chosen clung in all the right places.
Men had once fallen over themselves for a
