The soak had been shared and short-lived, with most of the steaming water ending up on the floor of his bathing chamber before it had time to cool. And his sleep—what little he’d gotten—had been in Khamsin’s bed rather than his own. He should have been exhausted today. Instead, he felt more invigorated than he had in months. The few hours he had slept, with Khamsin draped over him, had been deep and dreamless and utterly restorative. Despite a second bath they’d shared again this morning, he could still smell her on his skin, and the scent kept distracting him as he attempted to plow his way through the mountain of papers awaiting his review. The fifth time his mind went wandering while attempting to read the same single paragraph in a report, Wyn gave up. The paperwork would have to wait. He pushed back from his desk and summoned Deervyn Fjall. After explaining what he wanted and sending Fjall to see it done, Wynter went in search of his wife.
