Page 73 of An Affair at Stonecliffe

The roses. The garden. “Carlisle!”

“Mmm-hmm,” he mumbled against her neck.

“We’re outside!”

“I know.”

She shoved at his shoulders. “For goodness’ sake, get up. What if someone came along and saw us?”

“They won’t.” A laugh rumbled through his chest, and he sat up, but moved no farther, gazing down at her. “There’s no one around except the servants and they won’t come looking for us. I’m the only one here to see you.” His hand moved slowly down her body. “And I like what I see very much.”

Noelle rolled her eyes at his words, but she made no move to push his hand away. She loved his touch and the way he looked at her. Reaching up, she caressed his cheek, brushing back a strand of his hair. If only it could always be like this. Words of love pushed up through her throat, and she pressed her lips together tightly to hold them inside.

She turned her head, lest what she felt showed in her eyes, and glanced around them. “I cannot believe we just tore off our clothes and...”

“Oh, I can,” he responded. “I’d been thinking about doing exactly that all day.”

“You planned it!” Noelle laughed. “I might have known. I wondered what had you in such a deep study. Deep thoughts, I assumed...and all along, you were just planning to seduce me in the arbor.”

He chuckled. “Oh, I wasn’t thinking just about that.” He rose to his feet. “I laid out a great many plans.” Grinning, he reached down to pull her up. “And I intend to show you every one of them.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

CARLISLE KEPT HIS PROMISE. They made love that night in his bed, first slowly and gently, and then, waking in the night, again with a fierce, urgent passion. Noelle fell asleep in his arms, warm and content.

Unfortunately, they slept too deeply, and Noelle popped awake suddenly the next morning at the sound of the door handle turning. The maid! The handle rattled, not turning, for Carlisle had had the foresight to lock the door. But the maid would go to Noelle’s room next to clean out the ashes and set the fire to burn off the morning chill.

Noelle jumped out of bed and threw on her shift, frantically turning to grab her clothes that were strewn about. Carlisle slipped out of bed after her, going to the wall between their rooms. Reaching behind the bookcase, he pulled a lever, and a small, door-sized section of the wall swung open, leading into her bedchamber.

Her bedroom was still empty. Noelle darted through the door as Carlisle tossed her pile of clothes in after her and closed the connecting door. She jumped into bed and yanked the covers up to her neck just as the hallway door opened quietly. Noelle kept her eyes closed, keeping her breath as slow and even as her shaken nerves allowed.

She listened to the soft sounds of the maid working at the fireplace, her entire body tense until the door closed again. Letting out a breath of relief, Noelle opened her eyes and sat up, glancing around the room. Her clothes lay in a heap on the floor. She wondered what the maid had thought of that. Hopefully she assumed Noelle was a careless aristocrat who never gave a thought to tidying up after herself.

Noelle brushed her hands across her face, holding them against her flushed cheeks. She wondered if the maid knew about the door into Carlisle’s room. There was little to indicate it was there, only a very thin line separating it from the rest of the wall. But surely the butler had known the opening was there, which cast a different light on Carlisle’s placing her in this room. Did Jamison assume she would be sleeping in Carlisle’s bed? Was it a habit of Carlisle’s to bring home female guests to stay in the connecting room?

Firmly she pulled her mind away. She was not going to let such thoughts spoil the day. She was going to enjoy this time as the gift it was. And after that...well, she wasn’t sure.

“WHAT DO YOU suppose we will find out here?” Noelle asked that afternoon as they climbed out of the carriage in front of the Haverstock house.

“Really, at this point, I no longer have any idea what to expect. It all seems so...”

“Fantastical?”

Carlisle nodded. “Yes, I suppose. But what’s happened to you and Gil is very real, and I sincerely hope Lord Haverstock can make it clearer.”

The door was answered by a tall, thin footman who took Carlisle’s card and disappeared, returning a few minutes later to lead them down a long hall. They emerged at last into a pleasant sitting room, where a low fire burned in the fireplace despite the summer warmth.

A young man of slight stature sat in a wheeled bath chair beside the fireplace, a crocheted throw across his legs. A woman some years older stood beside him. Their kinship was immediately apparent in the light brown of their hair and the smattering of freckles across their cheeks. There the resemblance ended, for the woman was tall and her cheeks filled with color, whereas the man was small and slender to the point of frailty, and his face was pale and sallow.

“Mr. Thorne. Lady Rutherford.” The young man nodded to them. “Timothy Haverstock. Pray forgive me for not getting up.” The young man gave a ghost of a smile, gesturing toward his covered legs in silent explanation. “Allow me to introduce my sister, Lady Priscilla Haverstock.”

“I’m pleased to meet you.” Priscilla came forward to shake their hands briskly. There was a competent, no-nonsense air about her.

They spent the next few minutes politely chatting, neither of the Haverstocks betraying a hint of the curiosity they must be feeling at the unexpected visit.

“It’s rather some distance from Stonecliffe,” Priscilla commented finally. “Would you like some tea? You must be tired from your journey.”

“That’s very kind of you, but no. The trip was only three hours. We’re staying at my estate.”