Without thinking, she looked back at Ewan, letting her gaze track over the ridges and planes of his chest, down over his muscled thighs and then back up, slowly—slower than she should have been, over the beautiful planes of his face, more proof that the boy was gone. This was no boy. She met his eyes, not knowing what to expect. Definitely not expecting the knowing curve of his lips, the rise of one blond brow, as though he had witnessed every inch of her perusal. As though he’d liked it. He lifted his chin in her direction, as though to acknowledge her careful inspection, a knight in tourney,
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