More frightening, however, had been her willingness to surrender to him. She had wanted what he had to give—wanted it still—more than air to breathe. The emotions he had brought up in her were more powerful, more overwhelming, than anything she had felt before. Her body had not been able to contain it all, her tears falling with a sweet kind of relief.
Why he had turned from her, she would never know. But she could only be grateful. For she knew in her heart that she wouldn’t have told him to stop. She would have given everything to him and more. A realization made all the worse knowing that she had never felt anything close to it for Hillram.
Eventually the sky began to lighten. By thenher eyes were dry and itchy, the result of staring out the window all night long. Heaving a sigh, she rolled onto her back. Exhaustion sat heavily in her breast. She supposed she could close the drapes, bury herself under the covers, and claim a headache. She could stay in her room all day long.
And not have to face Peter and remember what they had done.
The idea was tempting.
But surely, with the coming dawn, the memory of last night would not have quite so much power over her. She would rise from her bed and face the day—and her feelings for Peter—so she could put it all behind her.
She threw back her covers, intent on finding a gown she could throw on quickly without having to call her maid. But after a cursory glance, she realized that the only dress that she could manage to do up herself was the one she had worn down to the ballroom the evening before.
The one she had kissed Peter in, which he had bunched his hands in while bombarding her with the most exquisite sensations imaginable.
She let loose a low growl, then stomped to where she had left her clothes draped over a chair. With quick, angry movements she donned them, then went to her dressing table to tug and pull her hair into a manageable braid. She refused to be cowed by what had transpired between them.
It was not until she had made her way downstairs and to the breakfast room, however, that she realized how early it was. The room had not yet been prepared for the morning meal, a lone chambermaid still sweeping the hearth. Hurrying out before the girl saw her, she chewed on her lip. What now? She was much too awake—and too determined to face what she had no wish to face—to return to her room.
Finally deciding that only a brisk walk would do, she pulled her shawl tight about her shoulders and made her way outside. The morning air was crisp, and heavy with moisture. She stopped on the front step, breathing in deeply, letting the faint mist of dew fill her lungs, taking in the scent of salt and sea. This Isle had been a place of refuge for her as a child, though she hadn’t understood it at the time. Now, looking back, she saw how it had allowed her a freedom she hadn’t had at home. There, she’d made sure to tread carefully, working hard every moment to be the daughter her father expected. On the Isle, however, she’d been encouraged to give her imagination free rein, and to explore that part of herself that she typically kept hidden away.
But though the place and the people in it were the same as ever, her youthful optimism was gone.
The realization sat heavily on her shoulders. She moved forward, heading across the drive and short lawn to the cliffs beyond. The wind came up from the ocean, made strong by the steep cliffs. It whipped her shawl about her, clawing at her hair until strands came free of her plait and slapped at her cheeks and neck. Stepping as close to the edge as she dared, she looked out over the roiling sea. It came up in sharp peaks, the white tops showing stark against the dark gray of the waters. A perfect accompaniment to the turmoil within her.
She wanted Peter. Even now, knowing he meant to leave in a little over a fortnight, she wanted him so badly, it hurt to breathe. For a moment, her willpower weakened, and she allowed herself to imagine him as he had been last night. When the maelstrom of emotions had carried her off, he had been the one thing grounding her. His arms about her, his lips on hers, had made her feel more alive, more herself, than she had in all the days and months before.
Sighing, she closed her eyes and raised her face to meet the wind, letting it carry the memory with it. The problem, of course, was that Peter was not a part of her world. No, he would eventually leave, and if she continued to care for him as she was, he would take her heart with him. And she would be left alone.
A familiar light step interrupted her thoughts; Margery had found her. She smiled. Perhaps not so alone after all.
“Dear heart, what are you doing out here?” Her friend stepped beside her and placed an arm about her shoulders.
Lenora opened her eyes and smiled into Margery’s worried ones. “Just getting a bit of air.”
But her friend didn’t return the smile. “You couldn’t sleep?”
“Not well, no.”
“Was it Hillram?”
Guilt flared, that Margery’s cousin had been the very last thing on her mind. She fought the urge to pull away. “No,” she answered, admitting the small truth.
To her surprise, Margery nodded, as if she had expected such an answer. “Was it Mr. Ashford?”
Gaping at her, Lenora did pull back then. “What?”
“I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And you seem to like him as well. I didn’t think much of it at first. But then last night, that strange conversation the two of you had in the drawing room. Now this morning he’s gone and you’re standing here by the cliffs, looking as lost as I’ve ever seen you.”
“He’s gone?”
She shouldn’t have asked it. She knew it the moment the words left her lips.
The worried glint in Margery’s eyes intensified. “Yes, he left not long ago, off riding, I believe. He appeared to be fleeing as if his life depended on it.” She looked closely at Lenora. “Did something happen between the two of you last night after we all retired?”
“No!” Heat filled Lenora’s face. She prayed Margery would attribute it to horror over the suggestion and not the true cause. “Why would you think such a thing?”
“I worry about you. Coming here hasn’t been easy on you.” She chewed on her lip, looking out over the churning sea below. Her body was tense where it met Lenora’s, almost thrumming with agitation. “It was a mistake to come here. I shouldn’t have suggested it. If I hadn’t overimbibed on champagne, I wouldn’t have even considered it.”
