Chapter 7: The Body Doesn't Lie

The heavy oak door swung open, and Kieran Sterling walked into the dark master suite. 

The single lamp on the nightstand cast a warm glow across the massive bed. 

Iris sat on the edge of the mattress, wearing the translucent white lace nightgown Eleanor’s maid had forced over her head. Her hair fell over her shoulders in loose waves, catching the soft light. 

The moment the lock clicked, Iris shot to her feet. 

She pulled the thin lace down toward her knees, her eyes fixing on him with instant suspicion as she moved slowly toward the other side of the bed, away from him. 

"Your grandmother dressed me and locked me in here," Iris said, her voice tight.

Kieran pushed the door shut behind him and turned the key in the lock. 

He leaned against the heavy wooden door, his eyes sweeping over her. The translucent lace did little to hide the subtle curve of her waist or the fading purple marks scattered across her collarbone. 

"My grandmother bought you an entire wardrobe," Kieran said, "and you choose the one dress designed to get a man's attention."

"I didn't choose it," Iris shot back, her chin lifting. "Miriam pulled it over my head and locked the door before I could take it off."

"You work fast for a woman who was crying at a graveside this morning," Kieran said, taking two slow steps into the room.

"I am not working at anything," Iris snapped, her hands clenching into fists at her sides. "Open this door and let me go back to my room."

Kieran didn't answer. He took another step toward her, closing the distance between them. 

As he walked into the light of the lamp, the warm scent of orange blossoms drifted from her skin and filled the air between them. 

He drew the air deep into his lungs. 

Instantly, the crushing pressure on his temples began to loosen. 

The agonizing throb that had been crushing his head all evening softened into a dull hum. His vision cleared, the red haze at the edges of his eyes vanishing in a single second.

Kieran stopped dead in his tracks. 

He stared at her, his pulse hammering in his throat. 

Dr. Hughes was right.

Celeste’s heavy rose perfume had made his head feel like it was going to split open. But standing three feet from Iris, breathing in her natural scent, his body relaxed for the second time in five years.

Iris noticed the change in his face and took another step back, her heel hitting the base of the nightstand. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Come here," Kieran said, his voice dropping into a raspy growl.

"No," Iris said flatly. "You made the rules yourself, Mr. Sterling. A contract marriage. Separate rooms. You told me never to cross the line."

"I made those rules before I knew what you were carrying," Kieran said. 

He crossed the remaining space in two long steps, reaching out before she could move away. 

His fingers wrapped around her wrist. 

The instant his skin touched hers, a wave of cool relief washed through his body. The remaining pain behind his eyes vanished completely. A deep, heavy exhaustion settled over his shoulders—the quiet, natural weight of sleep that his body had been denied for years.

Iris gasped as he pulled her closer, her free hand coming up to press against his shirt. 

"Let go of me!" she demanded, struggling against his grip. "You accused me of being loose this morning! You said I spent my parole in a stranger's bed!"

"You did," Kieran said, his grip tightening around her wrist as he pulled her against his chest. "And that stranger left his marks all over your skin."

"My father sold me for one night to save my mother!" Iris cried, her eyes flashing with anger as she glared up at him. "He handed me a key card outside the prison gates while she was dying in the hospital!"

Kieran froze, his dark eyes locking onto hers. "What did you say?"

"Gordon Whitmore locked the car doors and forced me into the Meridian Grand Hotel," Iris said, her voice shaking with rage. "He told me my mother's surgery deposit would only be paid if I stayed in that room until sunrise."

Kieran felt his chest tighten. 

*Room 1606.*

He stared down at the trembling woman in his arms. The piece of paper on Owen's tablet claimed Celeste was in that suite, but his body said otherwise. The woman who had stayed in the dark with him, the woman whose soft voice had pleaded with him in the gloom, was standing right in front of him.

"You're lying," Kieran said, testing her. "Celeste brought me the cufflink from that room today. She had the hotel record."

"Then go sleep with Celeste!" Iris spat, shoving hard against his chest. "If she's your savior, go to her guest room and leave me alone!"

"I tried," Kieran said, his voice dropping low as he pulled her closer until there was no space left between them. "I felt nothing from her touch. But the second I hold you, my head stops pounding."

Iris went still in his arms, her breath catching in her throat. "What are you talking about?"

"Your body is telling you the answer, Iris," Kieran whispered, his head dipping down until his forehead rested against hers. "You're not leaving this room tonight."