And yet she couldn’t stop thinking of him.

“Now, shall I wear the nigh-transparent skirt”—Regin tapped her chin—“or the trews that encase me like a second skin?”

Lucia sputtered.

“Yes, well said, Lucia. Males do ogle me more when I wear the trews.” She pulled them on over her generous backside—with effort—then lay on the bed to tie the tight laces. Next she donned a sleeveless leather vest with a plunging neckline. Though it covered her breasts, the vest bared her midriff.

Lucia had begun to pace. “We’ve talked of this.”

“You talked of this,” Regin said as she braided her hair into a dozen haphazard plaits around her face. The rest she left flowing. “I averred nothing.”

Lucia wanted her to join the Skathians—the celibate archeress order she herself had entered—but Regin was too curious about coupling, too eager to discover what the warlord’s secretive smile that night had promised.

Yet that wasn’t the only reason she would seek him out. Though he’d been so stubborn and arrogant, he’d also laughed with her and enjoyed her humor. Over these years, men had gazed at her with lust, reverence, and even, on occasion, respect—but Aidan had looked at her as no man had since.

With appreciation. He’d appreciated her exactly as she was.

“To seek him out is madness, Regin. He believes that he alone will possess you. Like some … some thing, some object. He will never let you go!”

“Then he will not have me to begin with. We will make a bargain for three months, or for nothing.” She would explore her attraction to him, slake these drives, and loosen the hold he had over her.

Regin dug into her copious chest of jewels—containing no glittering stones, of course. She decided on adornments of polished gold. Males grew fascinated with how she made it glow. She donned serpentine bands of it around her upper arms and a circlet crown with strands to dip over her forehead.