Completely baffled, Royce stared at the nearly invisible, tight seam she’d sewn. Proud, haughty, undisciplined, and headstrong she was, he admitted to himself, but she was also a damned expert seamstress. “Does it pass your inspection, milord?” she prompted with a tinge of amusement. “May we keep our jobs, sire?” If she’d been anyone else but his captive and the haughty daughter of his enemy, Royce would have been sorely tempted to lift her in his arms and kiss her soundly for her badly needed help.
