Semele spent the morning touring the grounds, looking out Gothic windows and wandering along the sentry walks. She visited the Clos de Chillon wine cellar, where monk François Bonivard, the hero of Lord Byron’s famous poem, had been imprisoned. She did a small tasting of their Grand Cru and bought a bottle to take home to Bren. At the gift shop she also found a leather-bound copy ofThe Prisoner of Chillon.Wine and Lord Byron would be perfect anniversary gifts. She planned to give him both tomorrow night.
Semele’s fingers flew across the keyboard as she sent Bren a reply—perhaps a sappier one than usual to atone for her unexpected feelings upstairs. Then she finished off her drink and thanked the chef for a wonderful stay. As soon as the courier came, she would be officially done at the château, and she was ready to head home.
She waited for her computer to shut down and zipped it into its case.
Feeling mellow from the wine now, she wandered back into the gallery. A sharp pang of guilt hit her as she realized she’d been half hoping Theo would come downstairs. Although they had said their good-byes this morning, he was still here… and so was she.…
In a bit of a haze, she shut the door and leaned back against the heavy wood and closed her eyes.
“Daydreaming?”
Startled, she turned to find Theo standing in the doorway of his father’s study. He was waiting for her. He had changed into slacks and another sweater. Her eyes reflexively swept over him, but then she caught herself.
“Did you have a chance to take a last tour around the house before you’re off?” A knowing look danced in his eyes.
Semele’s heart hammered in her chest.He had seen her upstairs.“I-I… I wanted to look at yourOrbis.…”She hesitated, thinking that didn’t sound right.
“Did you? Look?” He walked toward her.
She watched him close the distance between them. “Is it really an original?” She hated how nervous she sounded. Her conscience screamed for her to back up, to look away, to figure out how to leave the room, but she couldn’t resist the spell that was weaving itself around them.
“I’m afraid this house is full of surprises,” he said softly. “God knows I shouldn’t be down here.” His hand came up and trailed along her cheek. “Tell me to go.”
The desire in his eyes made her forget every thought running through her mind. She wanted him—had wanted him from the first moment they met. Their lips locked, seeking each other, and the tension that had been building between them all these weeks turned into an insatiable dance. It was as though a hand reached inside and turned her like a spinning top.
“Semele,” he whispered and lifted her up.
She felt the table beneath her and his hands as they slid along the silk of her stockings. She leaned back, taking him with her as the kiss deepened. They were almost unable to stop.
It was Theo who pulled away. His breath sounded ragged as he ushered an apology. “I’m sorry.”
Those two words jolted her back to reality. She was lying across the examining table in her client’s arms.
Semele opened her eyes and saw a myriad of emotions play across Theo’s face before his gaze shuttered and the connection between them was severed.
He backed away and gave her room to stand. Her legs wobbled, her whole world off-kilter. She had no idea how to handle the situation—she couldn’t find her voice.
“Forgive me,” he said, sounding like a repentant gentleman from the 1800s. His stilted manner made everything worse. She could barely focus on what he was saying. “I’m afraid I let myself get carried away.” He seemed to be waiting for her response.
“Me too,” she stammered like an idiot.
Before she could recover, he said, “Forgive me,” once more and strode off toward his father’s study. “Safe travels, Miss Cavnow.”
The door closed behind him with a definitive click.
Knight of Swords
After Theo’s exit, Semele crashed back to reality. Her first thought was of Bren.
How could she have done this to him? A flush spread over her as she pictured herself with Theo.
She berated herself while she waited for the courier to come pick up the crates. An endless hour of waiting. Nothing like this had ever happened to her before. She was half tempted to call Bren right then and confess.
Tomorrow marked their two-year anniversary. Now she had this—this nightmare, this shame—blackening everything.
A million times she questioned why he had kissed her.
Theo Bossard was a client. They had barely spoken the whole time she was here, and now he dared to leave her withthatsend-off? It wasn’t as if she could have a fling with a man who lived four thousand miles away, even if she weren’t with Bren—and she was.
