*Faye*
I return to Hunter's bedchamber and knock on the door.
"Come in!"
I open the door to find him standing, shoulders slouched as he grips the edges of the table holding the washbasin. He's dressed in trousers and a white linen shirt, without any boots. Why does his current attire feel more intimate than seeing him in bed with just a sheet covering him? I approach cautiously. "Hunter?"
He glances over at me with bloodshot eyes, droplets of water coating his face. His hair is damp. "I don't think I would have made it to the dining room."
"You seemed to have enjoyed yourself last night," I remark.
He shakes his head. "I don't remember half of it."
"I fail to understand the appeal in that."
"No, you probably wouldn't." He splashes more water on his face, then reaches for a towel an
