"Dahlia," Liam gasped, his voice cracking.
The name hung in the air, breathless and terrified, a single word that shattered the last vestiges of his arrogance.
He rushed to cover himself. He scrambled backward on the bed, his movements jerky and uncoordinated, the lingering effects of the drug making his limbs heavy. He grabbed a silk pillow, clutching it to his chest like a shield. He grabbed the tangled sheet, pulling it frantically over his legs.
He looked pathetic. The Crown Prince, the man who aspired to rule the kingdom, the man who had plotted wars and assassinations, was reduced to a naked, shivering boy caught in a lie.
Behind Dahlia, in the hallway, Marissa and Lady Edwina reacted instantly.
"Oh my heavens!" Edwina cried out, her hand flying to her mouth, turning her back to the door in a flutter of silk. She was genuinely shocked, her aristocratic sensibilities overwhelmed.
