“He thinks,” Thomas began, “that age has never looked better on a woman, let alone a duchess. He thinks…” His throat pulsed as he swallowed hard. “…he’s been given a great gift. And he thinks he might wish to know that same exquisite pleasure again as well. After…” Without breaking his gaze, he slid off her and adjusted himself more comfortably. “…a short nap.”
With his arms around her still, Loretta felt him relax beside her. The windows rattled as a gust of wind shook the small abode. A nap sounded heavenly. She closed her eyes and snuggled deeper into his embrace. Just before drifting off, she was vaguely aware of him drawing the blankets up to cover them.
A gift.
He’d said she was a gift.
* * *
A chill sweepingthrough the room pulled her from sleep. But why was she sleeping in the middle of the day? For surely daylight filtered from behind her eyelids.
Loretta opened her eyes and all the indiscretions she’d engaged in swept through her in a rush of shame and something else.
Rebellion?
But she was alone now. Clutching the sheet to her breast ——good heavens, she was naked—— she crawled off the bed and then padded across the floor to peer outside.
Snow. Millions of large snowflakes swirling so thick that she could hardy make out the trees. Thomas would have gone to check on the horses.
They hadn’t intended to be here this long. He’d instructed the stable lad who’d met them to give them water but they’d still been tethered to the curricle.
The high flyer which they could not use to travel in this weather.
She shivered and then glanced around the cottage. A stove took up most of the corner. Near it, a table with but two mismatched chairs, and of course the bed. Along one wall, a small bookshelf held dozens of books. Atop the shelf sat a candle and flints.
A large gust of wind rattled the windows once again, sending another shiver through her.
Her maid would be worried when she did not return this evening. Millie would send word up to the manor informing Dev and Sophia.
What would they think? Had they even known she’d gone along today? What would they imagine? Surely Mr. Findlay… Thomas… had told them of the journey to inspect the estate. They’d realize she was safe with him, would they not?
The chill in the air drew her out of her contemplations, and she located her dress and chemise. Upon unravelling the material, she struggled for a few minutes before finally managing to get herself decently covered.
The laces needed tying, however, and the skirt had wrinkled terribly.
She’d not dressed herself in decades. When she touched her hair, she could not help but groan. The sleek chignon Millie had made up earlier that morning must now resemble a bird’s nest!
A search of the bed revealed most of the pins had fallen out during… She bit her lip.
What had she done? Running her fingers through her hair, she located the remaining pins. She pulled her comb from her reticule, but wished for a glass. Perhaps she could affect something presentable.
* * *
Thomas gavethe horse one more vigorous rub with the towel and then stepped back. He’d not expected the snow.
He’d not expected the duchess…
His hand shook slightly as he hung the damp cloth on a hook.
After watching her sleep for a while, he’d grown restless. What had this meant to her? She was a blooming duchess for Christ’s sake!
He’d climbed out of the bed and then dressed quickly when he saw the snow falling outside. Stupid of him to have brought the curricle. He should not have gambled that the weather would hold.
He needed to return to the cottage… return to her. Would she be cold and distant once again? Would she have reminded herself of her station in life? Would she have reminded herself of his?
Or would she be the warm vulnerable woman he’d made love to?
A man of action, he pulled his jacket around himself and dashed out the stable door into the storm. He could barely see his way to the path, the flurries having turned to something of a snowy tempest.
