I’m sure, she said, her voice small but steady.
He smiled gamely. I shal be down to supper so quickly no one will even realize I went with you.That is not the point.
Isn’t it? You said you were concerned for your reputation.So quick, he interrupted, putting an end to whatever manner of protest she’d been working toward. I’d hardly have time to ravish you even if that were my intention.She gasped. Lord Winstead!
Wrong thing to say. But so terribly entertaining.I jest, he said to her.
The saying of it is the jest, he quickly explained. Not the sentiment.
still, she said nothing. And then: I think you have gone mad.The faucet is running. Apparently Reece is washing his hands in the adjoining bathroom. When he emerges, he’s fully dressed. He looks cool and composed, as if nothing significant just happened between us. As if our being intimate was nothing to him.
He turns to face me, his face devoid of any emotion. You did very well. You’ll probably be a little sore tomorrow. A warm bath with Epsom salts will help.I nod dumbly. I just want to be alone and try to process everything that’s just happened between us. Can I stay? I tug the blanket up to my chin, curling onto my side.
Of course you can. Stay as long as you like.I turn away, shielding myself from the sight of him.