CHAPTER SEVEN
Chaney stood in front of the great hall’s open fireplace. The glowing embers of a single log were the only remnants of tonight’s banquet and the only light in the otherwise dark room.
A chill curled through her. Not from the cold, but from anticipation.
Later.
She didn’t know if Drake had meant later tomorrow or tonight. She hoped the latter even though it was past midnight.
Chaney wanted—no, needed—to see him. She owed him an apology for sending mixed signals again. Sure, he’d looked handsome at the banquet, but he usually did. With the medieval costume, his beard, and the mysterious smile on his face, she’d stared at him, practically mesmerized. The line between reality and fantasy had blurred.
She crossed her arms, her hand brushing over the luxurious fabric of her g
