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pounding. Her hands clutched at her towel and it took her a moment to calm and realize who it was that stood before her.
    Her lovely man in the mirror—Aric. She’d seen the mirrorlight and mistaken it for sunlight.
    With a gasp of relief, Cora broke into a smile and pulled the second towel from her hair, using it to wipe the mirror clean. “You’re here.” Happiness bubbled in her throat as she cleared off the mirror. During daytime? Perhaps their link was growing stronger.
    Perhaps he might be able to stay for longer than a few scant moments.
    His gaze—so green in his darkly tanned face—scanned her face with a hungry urgency, as if trying to memorize her features again. Then, it slid lower than her face, to the towel that she clasped to her breasts. The need in his eyes changed to a different type of longing, and she recognized the desire on his face, the way it changed the stark angles of his gaze to something darker, hotter, seductive.

    Possessive.
    The breath caught in her throat as she recognized the expression. His desire called to her, made her feel beautiful in a way she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. His gaze had fixed on the slightly damp swell of her breasts, where the edge of the towel clung. The look in his eyes was hungry with desire.
    Flushed with the same giddy desire that he felt, her hands moved against the edge of the towel, and then she slowly, deliberately pulled it from her body and let it drop to her feet.
    She swore she could almost hear his quick inhalation of breath, or maybe it was just her own. His stance changed, his hands curling into fists against the edge of the mirror and bracing. His clothes were concealing and loose, a dark tunic belted over tan breeches.
    She approached the mirror, placing her fists against his on the glass, sucking in a trembling breath. Everything in her screamed to cover up her body, to hide, to blush like a madwoman and run away in modesty. The only thing that kept her there, that kept her tightly-wound body still before the mirror was the heat and intensity of his gaze. Her entire body quivered.
    Cora leaned forward, as if she could touch her lips against the mirror and somehow convey her words better. The tips of her breasts brushed against the cold mirror, hardened, and she saw his gaze dip there, saw his fists uncurl and his fingers move towards those teasing tips, as if he could touch them if he tried.
    “Aric,” she spoke, and the word went unheard, his gaze not on her face.
    Disappointment flowed through her, frustrated at her inability to communicate with him, to share that she knew who he was.
    But then he looked up a moment later, and she whispered his name again, and the possessive heat in his eyes made way for wonderment. He gave a small nod and repeated the syllable, his lips moving like her own. A hint of a smile curved his mouth and he spoke something else that she couldn’t follow.
    “I learned your name,” she said shyly, wishing desperately that he could hear her speak. “I looked through all the books until I found your coat of arms, and I found your name. I had to find out, to discover who you really were.” She tasted his name against her lips. “Aric de Beauchamp, heir to these lands in 1193. That’s you, isn’t it?” He began to speak again, his lips moving at a rapid pace that she couldn’t follow, his gaze darting over her face.
    “Tsk,” she said, and a laugh bubbled from her throat. “No fair talking and me not being able to hear you.” Cora ran a finger down the front of the mirror, and then tapped it. She pointed at his shirt and brushed her breasts against the mirror again, gasping at the chilly sensation that ran across her nipples. “First me, now you. I want to see you naked.” It took two more gestures before he understood what she was miming to him. Part of Cora wondered if he would dismiss her request and continue to feast upon her body only, or if he’d give in willingly to her request.
    Of course,