Clint blinked hard, trying to push through the haze clouding his vision but he felt dizzy and almost fall.
But he found himself caught in the firm hold of a man. One arm wrapped around his back, the other steadying his waist, as if Clint might collapse again if he so much as shifted wrong.
The flickering candlelight from the nearby candelabra cast shadows across the duke's bare torso still damp, water trailing faint lines over his toned skin from freshly washed hair that clung to his nape and temple.
A towel sat low around his hips, the only thing guarding modesty, and Clint instinctively looked away, but the dizziness made the room tilt and he had to grip the duke's shoulder to stay balanced.
"W–What?" Clint muttered "What are you doing here?"
"I should be the one asking… what are you doing in my room?"
"…Shit," Clint breathed. He hadn't just followed a shadow into any room.
