Amelia complied, and the maid began the process of fitting the corset. It was tighter than anything she had ever worn, squeezing her waist and making it difficult to breathe. She felt like a sausage being stuffed into a too-small casing. The maid pulled the laces with expert precision, and Amelia winced as the corset constricted around her torso.
Swallowing her anxiety, Amelia complied, settling back onto the bed. Alistair joined her, the mattress dipping slightly under his weight. She lay stiffly beside him, acutely aware of his proximity. His scent—clean, with a hint of something dark and intoxicating—filled her senses, making her heart race.