A sharp rap at the door shattered the quiet. Matthias strode in, but the greeting died on his lips. Olivia was, in every sense of the word, breathtaking.
He stood frozen, his gaze locked on her for several long minutes, words failing him entirely. Finally, he glanced at Keira; sensing the unspoken command, the maid bowed low and slipped out, leaving them in a charged solitude.
"You are ready, then?" he asked, his voice a fraction deeper than usual.
"What do you mean?" she countered, arching an eyebrow as she gestured to her reflection. "Can you not see I am finished? Or do I look hideous to you?"
He quirked an eyebrow, his eyes traveling slowly over the gown. "Well, that isn't exactly what I meant. But..." He paused, his gaze lingering on the daring cut of the silk. "I believe your dress is torn."
"Torn? Where?" She spun toward the mirror in a mild panic.
"The back. There is no back at all. Did you not feel the draft?"
