Isabella’s POV
I waited in our shared chamber, the fire burning low and casting long shadows across the large bed.
The nightdress I wore was thin, far too thin for anything resembling modesty. The fabric clung to my skin, my n*****s already hardened into tight peaks from the cool air and the anticipation I refused to name. Lucan had not yet returned from the training grounds. I had prepared fresh bandages and salves, telling myself it was only duty. Only the bargain. Only the need to keep him alive so I could survive.
Yet my body knew the truth. It ached for him. For the dangerous game we played every time I tended his wounds.
The door finally opened.
Lucan stepped inside, still carrying the faint scent of the training fields, sweat, steel, and that wild masculine essence that made
