Page 23 of Thief of Hearts

“Your brother was right. You would have died. I’m glad you didn’t.”

“You don’t even know me,” I said.

“I know some and I hope to know more.”

Nothing this man did made any sense to me. “Why are you being like this?”

He straightened up. “Have you never been wooed before, illora?”

“I—” Thracian men did not flirt. They didn’t use their words to coax or woo. They propositioned me, I said either yes or no, and they accepted my answer. “We just met.”

“The meeting is what lets you know if you find a person attractive or not. And just as I find you intriguing, you are attracted to me as well.”

I sat straight up in my cot, ready to protest, but he didn’t give me the chance.

“Don’t bother denying it. I can see it. Hear it. Feel it. You have your reasons for resisting and that’s fine. I won’t press you.”

Why did I feel both relieved and disappointed?

“Is that why you wanted to share a room with me?” Was this all just a ploy?

“The two things can be true—I find you attractive, and I would prefer you share a room with a man who will respect your wishes as opposed to one who would not.”

He thought he was protecting me. Which was unnecessary, but still sweet. “Why would you want to woo me?”

“Many reasons. You’re a mixture of contradictions and I want to know more. That, and you’re incredibly beautiful.”

That was twice now that he’d said it, and having never received that kind of compliment before, I wasn’t even sure how to respond.

“If you want me to stop or I make you uncomfortable, you have only to say the word and I will.”

Of course I wanted him to stop. This was ridiculous. I wasn’t here for some fleeting romance. I was here to find a way to change my mother’s mind so that I could take over for her.

But the words didn’t come out. I didn’t say anything. I just sat there.

Feeling many different shades of foolish.

And that feeling wasn’t helped when he grinned knowingly at me. “We’ll talk more about it later. I get the sense you’re not ready for a full-frontal assault.” He walked over and picked something up off the trunk. “Here. I got this for you.”

It was blue, shimmering fabric. He held it out to me and I realized it was a dress.

A cobalt-blue silk dress. I brushed my fingers against it. “Did you steal it or pay for it?”

“Does it matter? You needed a dress and now you have one.”

“Yes, it matters.”

But he didn’t respond. He didn’t have to. He had given me the dress and I was stroking the fabric. So soft and luxurious. He had trapped me the moment he put it in my hands. I really did need a dress, and it would only be for one night. I’d make him return it tomorrow, which would ease my guilty conscience. “This feels expensive.”

“Silk is how Sagaris got wealthy. Centuries ago someone stole silkworms from Serica and now they have all this. Even the poorest members of this city wear silk. Which means you won’t stand out at the celebration.”

I should have told him to put it back where he found it. Especially because I was certain it wouldn’t fit. I stood up and held the dress against me. My mouth dropped when the hem hit the floor. “How did you find one long enough?”

“I’m very, very good at what I do,” he said.

I wanted to try it on. “Turn around. I’m going to change.”

“As you wish.”