“I want you to sell those. And burn this dress.” “As you wish,” he said, pocketing the combs. “Such a pity, though. Your enemies would have fallen to their knees if they ever saw you in it.” He’d almost fallen to his knees when he’d first seen her earlier tonight. She huffed a laugh that might have been a sob and wrapped her arms around his waist as if trying to steal his warmth. Her sodden hair tumbled down, the scent of her—jasmine and lemon verbena and crackling embers—rising above the smell of almonds to caress his nose, his senses. Rowan stood with his queen in the rain, breathing in her
...more
