Page 117 of Lady Knight and the Thief

“I never said that,” he countered, knuckles white on the bench.

The carriage lurched to a halt, causing Cypress to lose her balance, wobbling above him.

Fuck it.

Torren hauled Cypress against him, pulling her flush over his body.

“Does it seem like I’m uncomfortable, Duchess?” Torren whispered huskily, only a hairsbreadth away from her neck.

When Cypress swallowed, her throat pressed against his lips for only a second, but Torren felt the shiver run through her body, her skin pebbling beneath his hands.

“I,” Cypress started, and moved to push off of him.

Torren kept her pinned in place with his hands on her hips.

She cleared her throat.

Torren grinned.

“I think we’ll do just fine at the ball,” Cypress finished, her tone brooking no argument.

Torren loosened his grip on her hips a fraction and said, “I was thinking the same thing.”

37

Jungle Cats in Carriages

Cypressopenedthecarriagedoor.

She’d managed the dress herself, but the corset was still stiff; the leather hadn’t molded to her yet, so she couldn’t cinch the ribbon as tight as she liked.

“Do you mind cinching me in?” Cypress asked Torren before her still-booted foot hit the ground. She’d never been keen on the small, flimsy slippers often favored by the ladies at court.

“Usually I'm asked the opposite,” Torren grumbled, but motioned for her to turn around. He'd managed a shave while she was changing, leaving the chiseled line of his jaw bare.

Cypress’s fingers trembled as he began to pull on the ribbon ties at her back and on either side of her hips. “Get used to it,” she joked.

Torren huffed a laugh, but finished tying the corset without further comment.

When he finished, Cypress turned to thank him, but her mouth went dry at how his clothes fit and stretched across his form.

A deep plum shirt hung from his shoulders, leaving his chest bare. Chains glinted in the sun under the fabric.

Black pants clung to Torren’s thick thighs and did nothing to disguise theprintof him.

“You look nice,” Cypress managed, linking her fingers together in front of her waist. She still needed to place the small silk mask over the bridge of her nose, but otherwise, she was ready.

Well, as ready as Cypress could be while she prepared to go back into the place where people she once thought of as friends wanted her dead.

“You look like the Duchess you were always meant to be,” Torren rumbled.

Cypress’s skin pebbled at the timbre of his voice.

She laughed and didn’t respond, instead returning to the carriage and gathering her skirts onto the bench beside her.

“Ready when you are,” she said in a mild tone, and tried to keep her face neutral.

The corner of Torren’s lip curled. It was the faintest ghost of a smile before he joined her in the coach.