Three days.
That was how long Xavier had managed to keep her at arm's length. Three days of polite greetings, meaningless conversation, and cool detachment.
Camilla played her part in return, smiling for Adrian, nodding along to the endless stream of matchmaking whispers, all while pretending she didn't feel the weight of Xavier's gaze from across the room.
Because she did. Every time.
It was during a quiet afternoon in the library that she caught him. She'd slipped in to escape the chattering ladies in the parlour, fingers trailing over the rows of leather-bound volumes, the scent of old paper wrapping around her like a warm cloak.
She turned the corner of a tall shelf — and stopped.
Xavier stood at the far end of the aisle, one hand braced on the edge of the bookcase, the other holding a book he clearly wasn't reading. His eyes were fixed on her, unguarded in a way she'd never seen.
For a heartbeat, neither moved. His gaze traced her face, the line of her neck, the faint rise and fall of her breath — and heat flared low in her belly.
Then, like a mask snapping back into place, his expression shuttered. He slid the book back onto the shelf and turned away.
"You should be with the others," he said without looking at her.
"And you should be reading," she countered, stepping closer.
He hesitated, his back still to her. "Camilla…" Her name came out like a warning, rough and quiet.
She moved closer still, until only a few feet separated them. "If it was nothing, why do you keep looking at me like that?"
His shoulders tensed. For a moment, she thought he might answer — might tell her why he'd kissed her like a starving man only to push her away.
Instead, he exhaled slowly, and said, "Because I'm trying not to want you."
The honesty in his voice caught her off guard, softening something in her chest even as her pulse hammered. "And is it working?" she whispered.
His laugh was low, humorless. "Not in the slightest."
Before she could say another word, footsteps echoed in the hall outside. He stepped past her, the faint brush of his sleeve against hers a silent promise, and disappeared between the shelves.
She stood there long after he'd gone, her heart racing.
It wasn't over. Not even close.