“Rose is a fetching color on you.” He came over, walking a half circle around her, his eyes sweeping over her from head to toe. “Yes, that color is magnificent.”
Rosalind frowned. She didn’t like how he behaved, as though her appearance required his approval. As though he owned her.
“Claire, find my green gown,” Rosalind said. “I shall change—”
“No!” Ashton cut her off, not sharply, but firmly. “Don’t be silly, Rosalind. Claire has better things to do than change your clothes simply because you wish to be contrary to me.”
She arched a brow. “It is not my goal to please you. If I wish to change, I may change.”
His eyes twinkled. “I agree. You have every right to change clothes. However, a woman of your intellect has far better uses for her time than figuring out how to rebel against me
