He stood and bowed, then headed toward the stairs.
Good heavens! What did he wish to talk about? That night they'd shared? She inhaled deeply, trying to dispel the jitters that had suddenly overtaken her entire body. Even her knees shook as she rose from her seat.
All will be well. He is not a cruel man. And he doesn't know…
At least, she hoped he wasn't cruel and vindictive like her late husband. Would Rebbie keep their secret if she asked him to?
After watching the dancers for a few moments to make certain Elena didn't notice her following Rebbie, she sedately strolled toward the stairs. Hopefully, they would think she was merely retiring for the night.
Her heart pounding, she ascended the steps and started down the dim corridor, lit here and there by a candle sconce. Walking as slowly as she could, she tried to calm herself as she approached the solar. The door was open and, inside, several candles burned along with a low fire in the hearth. A dark form in his black clothing, Rebbie stood before it, gazing into the flames, his hand propped on the mantel.
She stepped across the threshold and halted, knowing not what to say.
He turned. "Lady Stanbury, thank you for agreeing to meet with me. Please, come in." His businesslike tone helped her relax marginally. Maybe he wouldn't get too personal after all. Moving toward her, he motioned to the hearth, then bypassed her and closed the door. "You don't mind, do you?"
"Nay."Saints!Her heart-rate doubled. Was it fear or excitement? Maybe a little of both.
"Come. Have a seat." He took her hand and drew her to the chairs near the hearth. He wore no gloves, and she perversely wished she didn't either. From somewhere deep in her soul, she craved the warm touch of his skin—something she hadn't felt in a very long time.
Once they were seated, she thought he would speak, but he didn't. Instead, he picked up the poker and stirred the fire's coals, then added two pieces of wood. The fire popped and crackled, burning a bit brighter.
Her stomach ached with frayed nerves.
He set the metal poker aside and glanced at her briefly. "I remember that night," he said in a low, deep voice.
Her breath stopped and heat rushed over her. "Pray pardon, I—"
"Nay." He held up a hand. "Why on earth would you apologize?'Twasme who was a rogue and a scoundrel."
"Nay, you were not." She knew he'd said that because he was a charming gentleman, for she was the one who'd approached him.
She'd told him she was a widow back then. A lie. She squeezed her eyes shut. He could easily learn her husband died a mere five months ago.
"Anyway.'Tisour secret," he murmured.
She glanced at him. A hint of a sincere smile softened his sensual mouth. Was it too much to hope for… that he would keep their secret? With fathomless eyes, he studied her, waiting for her response. He could've easily taken advantage of her, forcing her to warm his bed in exchange for his silence, but thankfully he didn't appear to be that sort of man.
"I thank you," she said. "I never imagined… that I would see you again."
"You hoped you wouldn't, aye?" He lifted a brow, looking none too pleased about that.
It wasn't that she didn't want to see him again, for she certainly did, dreamed of it every night, but…. She shrugged. "Under the circumstances—"
"And what were the circumstances?"
She bit her lip. Could she tell him the truth, that she had been married at the time? And that she was an adulteress? Although, not by her own choice. Shame consumed her.
"You don't wish to say." His voice gentled. "I understand.'Tisfar different for a woman than for a man."
"Indeed."
"So, 'twas not something you did often?"
Calla's shocked gaze flew to Rebbie. "Nay. Of course not."
"I meant no offense." He could easily tell by her words and actions she was not very experienced at seducing men, then or now. She blushed almost as much as a virgin, for heaven's sake. If she were a practiced seductress, she would be all over him now, wouldn't she? Instead, she would rarely meet his gaze.'Twasobvious she was mortified that he remembered the night they'd spent together.
He almost wished she would do something. Smile at him, touch his arm. Anything. He wanted to see a glimpse of the lass he'd shared a pleasurable night of unbridled passion with. He remembered the joy in her eyes and her smile.
