“You’re here,” she said, proud she could make her tone so cool and detached.
He nodded and took a step closer, testing her resolve. God, he was tall. She’d forgotten how tall he was.
“I am,” he whispered. “At last. It’s good to be…”
He trailed off, and she smiled softly. “Home?” she asked.
“Yes.”
She shivered slightly. Yes, this had always been his home. He’d come to this house at the age of nine and left it permanently at twenty-five. In some ways he belonged here as much as she did.
And right now they both felt like intruders.
“I do admit, though, that I don’t know what it is Stenfax wants, exactly,” he said.
She stiffened at that statement. He was watching her carefully, closely. Judging her. But the light wasn’t out of his dark brown eyes, nor was pity lingering in their depths. So he wasn’t lying. He didn’t know the truth, not even a fraction of the truth. She still had time.
“I’m certain my brother will explain all to you soon enough.” She half-turned toward her chamber again. “Good night, Mr. Seyton.”
His jaw stiffened slightly at her dismissal of him, but he didn’t press her or argue. He merely inclined his head. “Lady Barbridge.”
She froze at the use of her title. He’d never called her by that name before. He’d never known her as the wife of that bastard. Now she felt marred by his voice saying that name. Damaged.
She said nothing as she went back into her room and shut the door behind her. She leaned against the door for a moment and stared at the flame from her candle. It shook and danced because she was trembling, and she cursed as she crossed to her dressing table and set it down.
Asher had always affected her. He still did. Only now she knew full well what those driving needs in her body were. Now she knew how dangerous they and he were to her.
Was it possible she could still convince Stenfax not to tell him the truth? To send him away?
She hadn’t broached the subject with her brother in the week since he first announced Asher was coming. Both he and Gray had been strangely quiet on the subject, probably thanks to the intervention of their wives.
But if she told Lucien she didn’t want to see this man, that she didn’t want Asher to know her shame, would he listen? Would he set aside his desire to save her out of a need to protect her from her feelings?
It might be worth trying. That would solve her Asher problem. Send him away without ever having to tell him the truth. Without ever having to watch his face change and hear the strain in his voice when he spoke to her.
She would try tomorrow. One last ditch attempt to keep him at bay before the world came sliding down around her.
With a sigh, she blew out her candle. She had intended to go down to the library to find a book to pass the time, but there would be no focusing on even the most engrossing story with Asher just down the other side of the hall from her. Undressing. Climbing into crisp sheets.
She flopped down onto her bed with a groan. Damn it, why did she have to have these feelings? These needs when it came to him? Why couldn’t she feel as detached as she pretended to be?
Life would be so much easier that way.
But that was asking too much. Right now her body hummed with excitement at seeing the only man she’d ever wanted. It trembled with memories of his hands closing around her arms, his mouth slowly lowering to hers, his taste on a long ago night that almost felt like a dream rather than a memory.
She sighed and let her hands slide down the apex of her body. There was only one thing she could do to release this tension. She pushed her nightgown up and placed the flat on her palm against the warm folds of her sex. She blushed to find them already wet. Asher did that to her without even touching her.
Which proved she was weak to him. Too weak.
She pushed those thoughts and all others aside, and focused instead on the warm rush of tingling sensation that flooded her body as she began to grind her hand against her body. She closed her eyes, letting her mind take her on a fantasy. The same fantasy as always, and it starred the man she had just encountered in the hallway.
A fantasy back on the terrace that long ago night. Except instead of just kissing her, he drew her back into the shadows. Lifted her skirts up and touched her. Then took her, his strong arms supporting her as he pressed inside her willing body. His face straining as he thrust over and over again until she shattered.
She lifted her hips with a muffled grunt as wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. With a sigh, she pushed her night rail back down. Many nights that self-pleasure helped, but tonight the ache between her legs lingered, taunting her and torturing her. Because Asher was here.
And until he was gone, she was going to keep wanting what she couldn’t have. Regretting what she had lost. And wishing for a different path that didn’t exist.
Chapter Three
