I’m not sure if I’m relieved or disappointed that he’s pulled on a pair of loose-fitting cotton breeches. He’s still topless though, his muscular back on display as he closes the wardrobe doors.
“I didn’t know you wore breeches,” I say.
“The way you were looking at me earlier. . .” He leans against the wall by the window, his eyes glinting playfully as he shakes his head. “I thought I’d better cover myself up as much as possible. I was feeling very vulnerable.”
I sit up, pulling my knees to my chest as I lean against the headboard. “And yet, you seem to be absent a shirt.”
He laughs, then shrugs. “I left my kilt in the forest. Don’t tell anyone, but these breeches are actually rather comfortable. Do I look like a gentleman?”
I laugh, too, and shake my head. “No.”
“No?”
“You look lik
