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He stepped back toward the bed and looked at the lines on the wall. “You’re right. I hadn’t noticed that. I was basing the walls purely on room size. Now this room will be bigger but at least there will be a window.”
She looked around the room and shivered. The idea of being alone with him in this room had set her nerves on fire. She needed to finish her work and leave before she did something completely irrational…again.
He walked back to the lines he’d drawn and her gaze wandered to his buff-colored riding breeches. The soft leather stretched across his tight derrière. Her pulse increased as she stared at his backside, remembering how it felt to have her legs wrapped around his hips.
Heat seared her cheeks when he glanced back at her. He couldn’t possibly know her thoughts. And yet, the seductive grin he sent her made her think otherwise.
“Jennette,” he said softly.
“Matthew, please…”
“May I see your ideas for the room?”
Jennette blew out a breath, thankful that he seemed to understand they could not fall into bed again. He strolled across the room and she wondered if he hadn’t felt the same pull of desire. Maybe she imagined the look of desire she thought she’d seen in his eyes. He sat next to her on the bed and glanced down at her drawing.
The man smelled of leather and horses, creating a strange swirl of emotions rolling through her. His thigh brushed against her and it took every ounce of control she had not to turn to him and kiss him.
His finger pointed to one wall she’d drawn. “I think that wall will need to be brought in a little. Otherwise, there won’t be much room in the hallway.”
“Of course,” she whispered. What happened two nights ago had been an accident. Their emotions had been overwhelmed by the Marstons’ slanderous comments. Besides, any man would have made love to a woman who so brazenly entered his room without even knocking.
He leaned in next to her, his shoulder encountering hers, his head all but touching hers. She wanted to be the upright lady, the woman who slapped her fan against his arm in protest to his close contact. Instead, she turned her head toward him.
Staring into his eyes, she lost any thought of being a proper lady. The back of his hand skimmed her cheek, drawing down to her neck. He wrapped his hand around the crook of her neck and brought her closer to him, to his lips, to the deep desire she wanted to know better.
His lips caressed hers until she opened for him. She wanted to feel the fire of passion flare between them again. She didn’t care if that made her a strumpet. She had wanted him for so long and had never dared admit it to anyone save herself.
The sound of the downstairs door slamming shut broke them apart.
“Oh God,” she whispered.
Matthew rose and raced to the steps. As if in a daze, she followed him, praying whoever might be downstairs would leave before finding them in the attic.
“No one’s here,” a deep masculine voice sounded from the second floor.
“But…” The feminine voice sounded timid.
“Come on, Annie.” Footsteps fell across the floor below them.
Matthew looked at her and shrugged. Jennette looked at him and wondered what he was thinking. The rooms below had gone silent except for the occasional creaking floorboard.
Quietly, they both tiptoed to the bed and waited for something to happen. Matthew pulled her down onto his lap. She could feel his erection rising.
“Did you hear that?” Annie said.
“Probably just a mouse in the attic. No one is here.”
“But what about the horses?”
The man groaned. “No one ever comes to this depressing place. There’s a pond just beyond the house. Most likely someone tied the horses and walked to the pond. We checked the rooms and no one is here.”
“All right.”
Matthew leaned in and whispered, “Do you know an Annie?”
Jennette shook her head and replied, “Possibly a servant.”
Soft moans echoed up through the floorboards. Moisture started to pool between Jennette’s legs with the image of what they must be doing.
