The chill of the night air skittered across his skin. Bran collapsed. Her legs were hooked around his hips, holding him to her. He could spend his life right here, and yet reality always had its way. He had to be crushing Kate. He eased off her, pulling her with him onto her side. He reached for the coverlet and flipped it over them.
She lay where he had left her. She appeared serene and peaceful, her lashes forming dark half-moons against her cheeks. He watched, thinking she was completely perfect.
Her eyes opened. Her gaze met his. “Dear Lord,” she whispered reverently.
Bran grinned, pleased with himself. “We are good together, aren’t we?”
“I’d forgotten.”
“I had as well,” he confessed.
In the haven of the coverlet, she turned to him, her hand resting on his chest. She wet her lips. Her every movement was fascinating to him.
And then she kissed him. Deeply, fully. Her telling kiss a ringing hosanna of praise.
With Kate in his arms, he fell asleep.
Kate’s body hadn’t stopped humming from their lovemaking. She was unwilling to move or do anything to destroy her perfect sense of well-being.
It was as wonderful as she remembered. More so.
Hemling had almost destroyed her memories of that night in Brandon’s bed. In truth, the aging marquis had rarely touched her after the rape. He had preferred parading her around as if she was some pet.
She ran her hand down over Brandon’s arm. Her leg rested on top of his and she reveled in the intimacy of their position. She’d never felt shame being with him.
Brandon’s large body took up most of the space on the bed. Her heart filled with tenderness as she watched him sleep. She would adore nothing more than to sleep beside him, and yet the time had come to leave.
She didn’t want her actors to know of this. They would tease her unmercifully—they would see this as weakness. A man could take on lovers. A woman was held to a higher standard if she wanted respect.
Over the years, Kate had witnessed many independent-minded women who set their own rules, and there was always a price. Those who pretended to be widows usually fared well in the long run, even if they had many lovers.
Then there were others—never married—who didn’t give two snaps of their fingers what people thought. Some acted in secret and others boldly, almost defying anyone to judge them. The bold ones always struck Kate as coarse. The secret ones made her wince at their weakness.
She had chosen a different path, an honest one to her way of thinking. She’d been celibate. She had never wanted to be seen as weak or coarse or to be pitied.
Of course there was speculation and gossip, but Kate lived in her own truth.
Nuzzling up against Brandon’s warmth, she accepted that this was a new truth with which she must live.
Then there was the problem of the duke. She had no doubt he wouldn’t take her choosing his uncle over him well. Perhaps the best course was to say nothing to Winderton, at least until she and Brandon could sort out what truly was happening between them. If he found out, he might impetuously throw his uncle out of these quarters and, while Kate had no doubt that Brandon could fend for himself, she didn’t want to be the one to cause problems.
She leaned forward and kissed his cheek at the corner of his mouth. His lips curved into a sleepy smile. His arm draped around her waist, keeping her close to his body heat. She was tempted to stay right here forever, except she was a realist.
Gingerly, Kate slid out from under his arm, inching to the edge of the bed. She put a foot on the cold hardwood floor. They had thrown their clothes here and there. Fortunately she had not worn much. Still, it did take her a few precious minutes to locate her shoe from under the bed. She was thankful for the candle.
Brandon rolled over, gathering a pillow to him as if holding her. His sleep was deep and peaceful. She fought the urge to give him one last kiss.
She left the room. She did not look back.
The hall was very dark. With one hand on the wall, she felt her way to the staircase. Downstairs was as sparsely furnished as the upstairs. It was as if no one was living here. She passed a dining room with a table and chairs and yet there was nothing as a centerpiece. She wondered if that meant that Brandon wasn’t here very often. She would have to ask him the next time she had an opportunity. She let herself out the back door.
The walk back to the tents did not take long. There was maybe an hour left before dawn although Kate was far from tired. In fact, she felt like dancing. She could have performed a reel right there in the middle of the forest and managed a few steps to prove her boast—
“It isn’t like you to sneak around, Kate.”
Silas’s voice made her jump. She had just passed the line of trees and her tent was in sight. She slapped her mouth to keep from screaming. Kate whirled on him, her voice low. “You gave me a terrible fright. Why, I must have passed right by you without seeing you. What are you doing up?”
“I couldn’t sleep. Not after Jess woke me to tell me you were missing.” He kept his voice equally low. “Apparently she discovered you were not in your bed.”
