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“Thank God for how dark it is,” he said as they carefully made their way up the stairs to the Robertsons’ front door.
“Wait,” she urged when he would have pulled the chain to the doorbell. Moving as close to him as she dared, she whispered her admission. “You spent one night in my chamber, so you can imagine it in your mind, can’t you?”
“I can. I do. When you left me in your bed, I was in no shape to appreciate it. But when I woke, recovered, I…”
“I’ll be going to that bed, but I won’t be alone. I’ll imagine you there with me. When I touch myself, I’ll imagine it’s your hand. Your fingers.”
In the small amount of light cast from the closest gas street lamp, she saw him reach for her before his hands clenched into fists and pulled back.
“Mein Gott, Molly!”
“Will you think of me?”
“You and only you.”
She didn’t dare move any closer to him than she already stood, and she nodded, indicating that he could pull the bell.
They bade each other quiet but warm good-nights in front of Pulley. When the butler pressed a chamberstick into her hand and ordered her directly to her chamber, a smile curved her lips.
“Yes, sir.”
