He wanted to hit something. He wanted to scream. He wanted to cry, and he hadn’t done that in years.
When the bedroom door opened behind him, he whirled around and stumbled as the skirts of his gown wrapped around his legs. He bit back a curse. He was supposed to be done with women’s clothes, but there he was, still in a dress.
He glared at Velia, whose face was lit with amusement she wasn’t even trying to hide. “Don’t say a word,” he snapped.
“I wouldn’t dream of it.”