Countess Clara Azmed stepped inside.
She had prepared herself carefully and the thin nightgown from earlier was gone. In its place she wore a deep wine-red gown of heavy silk that clung to the mature lines of her body without being openly scandalous. The neckline was modest by court standards, yet the cut still emphasized the soft swell of her breasts and the elegant curve of her shoulders. The fabric followed the narrow dip of her waist before flowing over the rounded shape of her hips.
A single long slit ran along one side of the skirt, revealing a glimpse of her delicate legs. Her hair had been loosely pinned up and a few soft strands framed her face. There was no heavy jewelry, only a thin gold chain at her throat and the wedding ring that still sat on her finger. She looked every bit the composed, graceful countess.
Her expression was calm, but her eyes carried the same quiet wariness he had noticed in the courtyard.
