FIONA
The Bishop’s eyes shifted past me and from the look on his face, I didn’t have to turn to know who it was.
“Your Highness,” the Bishop greeted, inclining his head and although his smile remained in place, his voice had taken on the distinct edge of one addressing someone they did not like.
I glanced back.
Ethan strode across the garden path towards us, his expression carved from stone. His gaze flickered to me and I looked quickly away.
“Am I interrupting something?” he asked.
“Only a conversation,” the Bishop replied pleasantly.
Ethan stopped beside me, close enough that our shoulders almost touched and the awareness of that sliver of distance sent a strange craving down my spine.
“I’m sure it was fascinating,” he said flatly.
While the Bishop hid his dislike behind a v
