I nod back.
Just another morning. Just another guard making his rounds.
I wish I could tell him I have Keira's underwear in my pocket. He has no clue what just happened. That I can still taste her on my tongue. That the man standing in front of him is counting the seconds until midnight like a bomb waiting to detonate.
FORTY-THREE
KEIRA
The walk back to the house takes an eternity.
Every step reminds me that I'm not wearing underwear. That Tristan has them in his pocket. That twenty minutes ago I was pinned against a garden wall with his mouth between my thighs and his name lodged in my throat like a prayer I couldn't release.
I can still feel him.
The scrape of his stubble against my inner thighs. The way he gazed up at me from his knees like I was something worth worshipping.
I slip through the east entrance, already mapping my route to my room. I need a shower and a change of clothes, then I can get back into character.
"Mrs. Calder."
I stop in my tracks, turning to see one of the household staff standing in the hall, hands clasped in front of her. "Mr. Calder requests your presence in his study. Immediately."
Shit.
"Of course. Thank you."
I change direction, forcing my legs to move at a normal paceeven though every instinct is telling me to run—out the front door, into the woods, anywhere that isn't here.
But the fantasy is over.
I have to face this head-on.
I've never beeninside this study before.
Ewan has several places he retreats to during the day when he's allegedly working, but this isn't one I've seen.
My stomach drops the second I notice the floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking the garden. A clear view of everything that happens on his property.
He would have seen me slipping out of the hedge near the garden shed.
"Close the door."
He's standing by those windows when I enter, his back to me, hands clasped behind him.
Did he see me this morning? See Tristan emerge minutes after I did?
No need to panic just yet.
"Sit."
I cross to one of the leather chairs facing his desk and lower myself carefully. My thighs press together and I feel the slickness still there from earlier.
He can't know. He can't possibly know.
Ewan doesn't turn around. Just keeps staring out the window, letting the silence stretch until it becomes its own kind of torture.
"I've been thinking about the dinner party."
