Yvaine’s breath caught as he moved closer, and no matter how she railed at her foolish little heart it still skipped a beat in nervous, excited anticipation.
“An unclear prize, hm?” she murmured, telling herself that she sounded no more breathless than usual. Or at least not significantly. “And just what seems to have distracted your attention so?”
He closed the distance between them until they were a breath apart, and Yvaine realized she was nearly trembling with the effort it took to keep still. A vague corner of her mind noted that it was almost ironic, really: she was only here, in this house, because of a dangerous lapse in propriety, a lack of discretion on her part, and her family seemed to think that marrying her off swiftly was the best way to curb her willful nature.
All it really seemed to have done was back her into a corner and give her nothing to use. It wasn’t as though she had a reputation to worry about protecting anymore, was it? Not one that would matter to the master of the house, anyway.
“I suppose that depends,” she murmured after a few long, considering moments where she just looked up into his face and held his eyes. “If your plan was to tie me, you hardly have the proper material on hand in this particular room.” She waved a hand about vaguely, though her eyes never left his. “So how else might you leave me indisposed, Ser?”
Oh she’d certainly noticed the slight reaction he’d had to the more formal address, and couldn’t resist prodding a little further with it.