Rosalind's fingers slowly tightened around Alaric's neck and, just as her thoughts urged her on, she began to increase the pressure... but she never expected Alaric's hand to suddenly find hers and clamp firmly around it.
His eyes fluttered open, and he turned to look directly into hers, which widened instantly with fear. A slow smirk curled at his lips as he took in the sight of her pale face.
She sucked in a deep breath and forced herself to remain still.
She was truly finished now. He would have her executed for treason, she thought inwardly.
But instead of anger, he slowly lifted her hand to his lips and pressed a kiss against it, leaving her confused as her brows drew together, while the unexpected warmth of his lips against her skin sent a strange flutter through her stomach and made her toes curl.
"Wrong place, Rosalind," Alaric muttered softly. "I asked you to stroke my hair."
