“I trust that is not embarrassment,” he said, caressing her pink cheek. “If so, I’ll not have it.”
“Of course not. No embarrassment and no regrets, just as I promised. I do feel a little strange, as if I am slowly waking up from a vivid dream.” She toed at the carpet. “We were more than a little mad last night, weren’t we?”
“Insanely so.”
“Utterly mad.”
“Yes.”
Her arms angled out in a hapless gesture. “I think everyone should allow themselves to be mad at least once, don’t you?”
“Absolutely.”
She felt at her hair. She straightened her sleeves. “I should return home. I look a fright. I did not even have a brush with me.”
He had not noticed. He did not think she looked a fright at all. The morning light made her skin appear flawless, and her changeable eyes showed as blue right now. She appeared ravishing despite her sensible dress. As for her hair, he could not see it without thinking how silken it felt against his skin.
“I should return home,” she said again. “I need to—do many things.”
“I will take you. I sent Harold for the magistrate. You need to let him see what happened, so he can alert other homeowners to be cautious and try to find the culprit.”
“Harold—” Her gaze shot to the bed.
“It is well he was here. I would not want you to wait on the magistrate alone while I went for him. Have no fear that Harold saw you. He did not enter the house. He does know you stayed here, however, but I believe he will be discreet.”
That appeased her, mostly. Her growing acknowledgment of her danger could be seen in her eyes, however. “If he is not discreet, it will not matter if I stayed in a locked chamber all night or if I ran from my house with a murderer after me. I can bear the scandal myself, but I fear it will ruin my sister’s chances.”
“There will be no scandal.”
He led her down the stairs and left her while he went out to saddle and bring his horse around. She waited outside the front door for him, her reticule in hand. He led the horse while together they walked to the road.
***
How odd the day seemed. How strange to be walking beside Gareth in the sunshine, with his monster of a horse plodding behind.
She glanced at him on occasion. Her heart still danced at the sight of him. Perhaps it always would. If she had thought last night’s intimacy would dull that girlish excitement, she had been wrong.
Upon wakening, and seeing where she lay, and remembering the night, there had been one moment of panic. It passed, however, as the memories grew clearer and his phantom body pressed hers. The small soreness still throbbing deep inside provoked a smile, not dismay. While she washed, she wondered if she had become as wicked as he, to partake of pleasure so casually with a man she did not love, then know no guilt afterward.
Wicked.An interesting word. Not at all the same asevil.Far more damning thannaughty, though. One could not deny thatwickedoften carried implications of being a sensual rogue. She supposed she was one now too.
He had said last night that she could have had her choice of many men if she wanted. It had been a gentle kindness that touched her. A generous and thoughtful lie. He, on the other hand, most certainly could have had his choice of many women.
“I am hungry,” she said when they rounded the bend that took Albany Lodge out of sight.
“I should have fed you something.”
“I will find some cheese when I get home, assuming the intruders did not take it or ruin it. Nor could we dally for a breakfast this morning. It would not do to have the magistrate arrive at my house only to find me gone.”
Gareth pushed open the door, which she was sure she had not closed when she ran. Her trunk, canvas, and other things stilllay right over the threshold, where she had dragged them. He stepped inside.
“It is worse than you said, Eva.”
She followed, and looked around the front chamber at the destruction that greeted her return yesterday. Gareth walked over and picked up one of her paintings. He stared at it with angry eyes, then set it down. He came back to her and took her hands.
“We will see how bad it is in the rest of the house. Before that, you need to consider what you will say to the magistrate about last night. I think you should say you spent the night here and came for help in the early morning. I know you do not want to lie, but—”
“It is a lie, but one that can be excused. Should the truth ever become known, it will be obvious why I obscured it, and I do not think anyone will blame me.”
