For a long moment, Ligon simply sat, his eyes fixed on the door she had disappeared through. Then, quietly, almost to himself, he murmured,

“By the moons… that woman will be my undoing.”

He tried to turn his mind back to the parchments before him, but Valia’s image refused to fade. The damp sheen of her skin, the stubborn lift of her chin, the white cloth clinging to where his thoughts deliciously wanted to explore. His breath came rougher than before, and the silence of the chamber ...