After Gideon left, Adeline retreated to her bed, but sleep remained elusive. She spent the next hour tossing and turning, the earlier incident pressing heavily on her mind.
Seeking some respite from her restlessness, she finally slipped out of bed and stepped onto the balcony, hoping the cool night air would clear her head.
As she leaned against the railing, a prickle of intuition told her she wasn't alone. She turned her head and found Gideon standing on his own balcony just a short distance away.
He held a glass of dark amber liquid, his only attire a loose robe that hung open, once again exposing the rugged expanse of his chest and the jagged scars that marked it.
"I-I couldn't sleep," she stuttered, her voice small in the quiet of the night. Her eyes flickered to the glass. "Why are you drinking at this hour?"
"To plan a strategy," Gideon answered, his voice a low rumble.
"A strategy to stop the attacks from the rogues?" she asked, her brow arching in concern.
