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She walked slowly down the stairs, each step marking four beats of her heart. She knew this because she found herself counting them, marking the time, slowing her pace to get it just right.
There was a small possibility she was stalling. But whatever her stalling techniques, the marble approached, and she was soon standing on it, and trying to decide which way to go. Her brother's study seemed a good bet, but Marissa found it empty. The library and drawing rooms were empty as well. Everyone was dressing for dinner, it seemed.
Marissa snuck a look up the stairs she'd just descended. It wouldn't be proper to go to Jude's room, but then nothing about their relationship was proper. He'd come to her rooms once already. And certainly making love with him last night in the gazebo hadn't been proper. Or whatever it was that they'd done the night before. Was there another name for that hot, tangled embrace? "Kissing" and "touching" were not up to the description.
For a moment, she was lost in that memory. It enveloped her and pulled her back into Jude Bertrand's arms. Her body seemed to rearrange its functions, until parts that normally lay quiet roused themselves to demanding life. And parts of her that normally worked with seamless skill, her- knees, her-lungs, her beating heart... they each seemed determined to ruin themselves.
She shouldn't sneak up to his room. It wouldn't be wise. But even after she took a deep breath and steadied her heart, she still felt compelled.
If she waited, she'd feel back to normal again, back to her anxiety and cowardice. So Marissa set her foot on the first step and started up. Only two heartbeats per stair this time, as she rushed toward something she should not do. This seemed a pattern for her, but there was no time to ponder that now.
She turned toward the south wing of the manor, and spotted a maid ducking out of a room.
"Mr. Bertrand is needed in the study immediately. Which room is he in?"
"The green room, miss."
Marissa hurried on. Down the hall. Around the corner. There.
She would have hesitated. Would have stood there and agonized for a few more moments, but what if she was seen?
Marissa tapped her knuckles frantically on his door. He must have been very close. She heard him say, "Yes?" even as the doorknob began to turn.
Certain someone else would peck from their room at any moment, Marissa slid through the opening while he was still swinging the door open.
'Jude," she whispered, pushing the door closed behind her. He was so close that she had to tilt her head back to see his face, and the scent of his skin wrapped around her as she pressed her back against the door.
But no, she wasn't pressing. It was Jude, hands on her shoulders, pinning her gently to the door as he ducked down to kiss her.
His mouth was far more effective kindling than her memories of his kiss. As she opened
her mouth to him, her blood swelled within her, putting pressure on her most sensitive parts. He tasted divine, and the thrust of his tongue made her legs shake with the memory of his fingers pushing inside her.
It had been so ... naughty. As wild as she'd ever felt. As wicked as he'd named her.
Now she wanted to do it again. She wanted to stretch her arms above her head and let him touch her everywhere. Let him strip her dress from her body and see her nakedness. But she was in no condition for that, she suddenly remembered. And that was why she'd come.
Shaking with the strain of it, Marissa put her hand to his chest and turned her face away. Jude's mouth didn't give up its quest to distract her. He ducked his head and sucked at her throat, sending sparks of fire trailing down to her fingertips. "Wait," she panted. "Jude ..."
When he lifted his head, his eyes were dark and drowning in want. For a moment, she was caught in their depths, sinking in----
"You were hiding today," he murmured. "From me."
That sobered her, and her body suddenly felt real again and weighed down by the truth. "No. I only ... I didn't know what to say. ..."
"Nothing," he murmured. "Nothing at all." He kissed her again, and, sweet Lord, she wanted so badly to lose herself in it. Give up her body to that gorgeous weakness again.
But she pulled away. "Jude. We need to talk."
He straightened with slow deliberation, and his eyes lost their wild darkness by small degrees. "Ah. I see. Of course."
She felt too cool now, pressed to the wood with the distance between them measurable in lonely inches. They were two separate people suddenly, and now they always would be, and she hadn't realized... that kiss had been the very last. She shouldn't have turned away.
"I'm sorry," she said, and Jude frowned and stepped another few inches away.
"I'm not with child."
"You've bled?"
