"What are you doing here?" She demanded, instinctively stepping aside as he entered her room with an air of casual authority. He gravitated towards her window and picked a pencil from her study table, his gaze finally settling on her, and he didn't miss the instant kick of her pulse.
"I'm here to see you." He dropped the pencil and allowed his gaze to wander around her room. "Are you satisfied with the arrangement? I mean do you like your new room?"
Polly opened her mouth to say otherwise, but then, she'd be lying, cause she does in fact love this room. The arrangements were practically to her fitting, and she wondered if it was just mere coincidence that he knew her taste so well—-or did Malcolm tell him about this?
