Hazel’s Pov
I had just slipped into my nightgown…thin white silk that skimmed my thighs and left my shoulders bare when the knock came.
I walked to the door barefoot, the hem of the nightgown whispering against my calves.
It was probably Martha.
I opened the door.
And froze.
Nicholas stood in the hallway, tall, broad, and radiating tension. His white shirt was open at the collar, sleeves rolled up to show corded forearms. His dark hair was messy, like he’d been dragging his hands through it. His eyes…those stormy, dangerous eyes…dropped straight to my body, sliding over the thin fabric, the curve of my breasts, the bare skin of my legs. Heat flashed across his face before he caught himself and jerked his gaze back up to mine.
He cleared his throat, voice rough.
“What are you doing
