The snow falls silently outside the camp as I sit cross-legged on the cold felt rugs, trying to concentrate on the scroll before me. The characters swim before my eyes, blurred by exhaustion and something else—something warm and dangerous that has nothing to do with the brazier crackling in the corner.

Nurhachi's footsteps are silent as always when he moves among his own people. I don't hear him until his shadow falls across my scroll, blocking the dim light of the oil lamp.

"Scholar Lu," he says, his voice low and rumbling like distant thunder over the mountains. "You burn the midnight oil again."

I look up, heart racing despite myself. He stands in the doorway, tall and broad-shouldered, wearing only his loose fur trousers and a linen undershirt. His long hair falls loose around his shoulders, and there's something unguarded in his dark eyes as they meet mine.

The air between us crackles with tension I've been trying to ignore for weeks. Since he saved me from the winter storm, since he brought me into his household, since he began seeking my counsel—and something more.

"My lord," I murmur, quickly lowering my gaze. "These texts require careful study."

He steps closer, the heat of his body radiating across the small space. I can smell him—smoke and pine and the faint musk of horse. It's becoming a scent I dream about, a scent that haunts my waking hours.

"Careful study," he repeats, reaching out a calloused hand to brush a strand of hair from my face. His skin against mine sends a shiver down my spine.

"Or perhaps you are avoiding sleep... and other company?"

His fingers linger on my cheek, and I close my eyes briefly, savoring the forbidden touch. When I open them again, his face is mere inches from mine, his eyes dark pools of desire that threaten to drown me.

I am a spy. I am here to betray him. But in this moment, with his body so close and his scent surrounding me, all I can think about is leaning forward into that kiss I've been craving since the day we met.