But she was not. Because for tonight, she was a different person. She wasn’t Allison, but neither was she Miss Priscilla Fellowes.
She was a woman. And this particular woman needed…
This.
Him. Emerson.
But suddenly, the cold wasn’t refreshing or invigorating. It was harsh. And images of the school and Chloe and Miss Primm rudely interrupted this awakening.
“I’m sorry,” she cried. The apology was meant to be all-encompassing.
He touched his fingertips to her chin, gently lifting her head back to meet her eyes. “Why?”
Because I’m not who you think I am. She held his gaze, wishing he could read her mind.
Because all of this is a lie.
Because I’m ruining everything.
“I can’t marry you,” was all she could think to say.
“Why?”
“I—” She would tell him everything. “Because—”
But he swallowed her confession with another kiss. And this time, when he pulled back, he looked dazed.
“Who are you?”
It was precisely the opening she needed.
Priscilla. I’m Priscilla.
But telling him would put an end to all of it—to this charade, but also, possibly the school. And most terrifying of all, it would put an end to the two of them.
To any possibilities or promises she’d ever imagined.
“You’re like a dream,” he said, threading his fingers through her hair. “I’ve been caught in this nightmare, and then you come along.” His gaze traveled over her face as though he’d found the holy grail.
It was a dream.
But it was also a nightmare.
Who is She?
Priscilla’s eyes opened before dawn, and she found herself clasping the pendant around her neck.
Black Sapphire. He’d said it wasn’t valuable, but to her, it was priceless.
The smooth stone beneath her fingertips summoned erotic images—of what she’d done with him on the cliff terrace—of who she’d been.
She ought to be ashamed, overwhelmed with guilt. And about half of her was. But the other half played it in her mind over and over again, relishing the memory. She ached to see him today.
What had happened to her self-control? Did she even have any?
Had she ever?
With such questions bouncing around her thoughts, she couldn’t possibly lie in bed until the house came to life. She needed to do something. She needed to move.
