He hadwantedto kiss her for longer than he cared to admit, but now that he had, he felt utterly unmoored.
That moan. God help him, it echoed in his ears. His body still thrummed with want, with heat, with the frustrated ache of unfinished desire.
He was no better than a schoolboy, undone by a single kiss.
He stood abruptly. A walk. He needed cold air and distance.
Moving quickly through the corridor, he was thankful for the lack of questions as he grabbed his overcoat and stepped outside. The wind cut across his skin like a blade, promising rain.
No use walking in this.
He veered toward the stables.
“A ride will work just as well,” he muttered under his breath.
“Beg pardon, Your Grace?” asked the groom, tipping his cap.
“Nothing, John. Carry on.”
He swung onto the horse, boots snapping against the stirrups, and took off at a gallop.
The wind lashed his face. The sky opened. A shower fell in sheets as he reached the end of the lane, but he didn’t stop. He needed space. Movement. Sanity.
He wasn’t ready to go back. Not yet.
Benedict’s cottage isn’t far.
He turned the reins and aimed for his friend’s estate.
He needed distraction. Or at the very least, someone to remind him what the hell he was doing.
Because right now, all he could think about was her.
Chapter Ten
“Well, well, well, this is a surprise. No advance note? Just showing up at my door? How rude, Highcliff.” Benedict grinned at him.
In a quarter of an hour, Silas was at Benedict’s gate, his woolen overcoat and hat having kept him relatively dry.
He swung off his horse at the door to Benedict’s cottage.
It actually belonged to one of his mistresses, Benedict’s seat being at Richmont, but he used it frequently when he was in the district for work or just to visit.
Silas smirked as he tied his horse nearby. “My apologies.”
“I am only teasing. You’re always welcome here. Come! Unless you wish the rain to wash you clean of your sins.”
Silas snorted, shaking his head. “Don’t be ridiculous. That would require at least three thunderstorms.”
“Oho!” Benedict laughed, clapping him on the back as he led him into the cottage. “The man has some wit.”
“More than you, at least.”
Benedict gasped, grasping his chest as if fatally hurt. “You wound me!”
Silas took off his coat and hat, setting them aside on a nearby armchair as he smiled at Richmont’s antics. Being in Benedict’s company made him feel lighter and less as if the pressures of the world were carried upon his shoulders. His friend had always had that effect.
He followed Benedict into the den, unsurprised to find that his mistress was absent.
