Between Ink and Shadows (Book 1)

He stepped closer. “Miss Weston, you steal into my private rooms in the small hours of the night, question whether I’m entertaining guests, and expect me to be dressed for your company.”
“I didn’t—you misunderstand. I only mean to make you more comfortable.”
“By invading my private quarters.”
Nim huffed. “Well, I certainly cannot call on you in any way that is proper, now can I?”
His silence seemed to say, and whose fault is that?
She crossed her own arms, stung by his assessment. “Have you something against light in this room?”
The clouds took it upon themselves in that moment to part, letting half a dozen shafts of moonlight spear through the window and, to her horror, over the lines of his chest. Heat rose in Nim’s cheeks, and she had to resist the urge to back away from him. Not because she wanted to but because she very much didn’t. She wanted to look at him, which would have been incredibly foolish.
He was the seneschal of Inara, second to the king and the man responsible for hanging people like her.