Meg murmured as she stretched luxuriously and curled back into Robert’s arms. Their little prison chamber was chilly with no fire, but his lean, muscled body was warm wrapped around hers. She couldn’t quite care that someone missed them, not with him so close to her. She couldn’t quite care if she ever got out of that room at all. Robert’s fingers toyed lazily with her loosened fall of hair, wrapping the strands over his throat and his naked chest. “I doubt it. Peter snatched away my costume for the masque, which I was carrying when he and his ruffian friends shoved me in here. I’m sure he and your cousin have found replacements for you in your part.” Meg laughed. Surely one Knight of Apollo or Hour of the Night looked the same as another behind the gilded masks. “Then we must have another hour at least before they release us and explain their behavior.” “Are you sorry not to have your moment of glory before the queen?”
