Wulf remembered the feel of that hair, smoother, sleeker than any he’d known, twisting about him with a life of its own, creating a private world just for their dreams. Dreams that were long dead. He studied her as she drew her shoulders back and lifted her chin, staring into the space above his head. She started down the stairs. “Waiting up for me, my lady?” His voice was flat and cold. Not even the most wondrous of recollections could warm what had happened since. “How could I wait up for you when I was not expecting you, Captain Huntington? Do you have some business here? I can’t imagine why you would seek me out, and certainly not at this hour.” He’d have known those low, ladylike tones even if he’d been blinded. They twined about him as insidiously as her hair had once done. He should never have come. “It’s Major Huntington, now.”
