He knew what she was thinking. She was noticing him, noticing his handsomeness, was noticing his penetrating eyes, was noticing the way his gaze made her feel. Godric had learned while working for his father that a handsome face instilled a great deal of trust in people. More recently, he had learned that trust could become lust far too easily.
Still, something in her words struck him, hit him more deeply than he wanted to acknowledge. He knew exactly what it felt like, being trapped inside while the world moved around him. He watched Cecilia, reading her carefully, something which would not become a habit of his for another 40 years. The way she whispered, though, the way she could hardly speak , brought him back around. He leaned a little closer to her, lowering his voice. "I follow my senses," he said deeply. "I go where I feel, where instinct tells me. And something about this room called me forth." Reaching out, his fingertips brushed over the skin of her forearm. "And here you are. And the view is lovely... just as I felt it might be." This time there was no question as to what he was referring to, his eyes locked into hers.