Chapter Nineteen
Caroline slipped through the kitchen door and took the stairs two at a time, heading for the girls’ shared bedchamber first of all, dreading what she might find—or not find—there.
She almost sagged to the floor in relief when she saw three heads on three pillows, all fast asleep, with nothing more dangerous than a few wilted wildflowers littering the floor.
She drew the blanket up around Sorcha’s chin, and went to her own room.
She shut the door and leaned on it for a moment. No one had seen her. Relief flooded her, and she crossed to scrub her face in cold water, though it did nothing to cool the burn of her cheeks. She stared into the mirror, regarding her face in the first rays of the sun. Did she look different?
Of course she did. Her hair was a wild tangle, and her lips were pink and swollen from his kisses.
The mere thought of his mouth on hers made her knees weaken with desire for more.
She watched hot blood fill her face from chin to hairline, and her eyes—oh, how would she ever hide the look in her eyes?
They glowed, shone, and there was a soft, bemused look that hadn’t been there before.
Was it love, or just the satisfaction of a woman who had been well pleasured by a skilled lover?
She knew little about such things—well, before last night.
She’d heard servants gossiping in hushed tones, of course, their own eyes bright, their cheeks as flushed as hers were now.
She held on to the edge of the table, her knees suddenly wobbly, her body sore and sated.
She wanted nothing more than to sink into the comfort of her bed and sleep, and dream of Alec MacNabb and what had occurred between them in the tower.
But the sun was coming up and she had duties to attend to.
She washed her face again, vainly trying to scrub away the evidence.
She chose the primmest gown she could find, dull blue and high-necked.
She twisted her hair into a skin-pulling knot until not a curl remained, and fastened it with an army of pins.
Still, when she looked into the mirror, her cheeks were flushed, her mouth still lush.
Yes, she understood what the servants had been gossiping about now.
She turned away from the mirror. She would simply act as if nothing at all had happened.
She’d keep her eyes downcast, and her lips primly pursed.
Surely no one would dare to ask questions, to ask where she’d disappeared to last night. If they did, she’d simply tell them—
She reached the door with her chin high and stopped, her hand on the latch. Tell them what? There were no words to explain. And whatever would she say to Alec MacNabb when—if—she saw him? Oh lud!
She stepped back and stared at the latch.
She’d say that it had been a mistake—no, not a mistake—an impulse.
Not that she was the impulsive sort. Usually.
Saying it was the spirit of the evening might sound better—the dancing, the smoke from the fire.
It had all made her—well, “giddy” might be one word she could use.
She would make it clear that she did make a habit of doing such things, and her behavior of last night would not be repeated.
Ever. She put her hand on the latch again. “There, that should explain things.”
She drew back again. Oh, but if he smiled at her the way he had looked at her across the fire, or kissed her, she would be lost all over again.
She raised shaking fingers to her hot cheek.
Perhaps it would be better to find a way to avoid him altogether—at least until he forgot.
How long did it take a man to forget a casual conquest in a dark tower?
It was certainly something she’d never forget, even if she lived to be as old as the tower itself.
She took a deep breath and opened the door.
She came out of the tower and nearly collided with a maid coming along the main hall with tea and toast for Devina.
The girl simply nodded back and went on her way without saying a word about flushed cheeks or knowing eyes.
Caroline let out the breath she was holding.
She had passed the first hurdle. She headed for the stairs with a smile.