She was being pathetic—she was determined to open her eyes, but by the time she did, the curtain had closed again, and he'd moved away.
"Will you be attending the picnic this morning, your lordship?" The servant's voice was clearer now that she was paying attention. "Your cousin has requested that you join his party. "
Adrian's laughter was without humor. "I imagine he has. I suppose he asked you all about my partner for the night?"
"He did, sir. "
"And you told him. . . ?"
"Nothing, sir. A good servant knows when to keep his eyes open and his mouth shut. "
"And you're a very good servant, Dormin,” Adrian said lazily. "You may tell my cousin that I'm intending to stay incommunicado for the remainder of the Revels. My partner is more than sufficient for my needs. "
There was a dear hesitation from the servant. "And if Lady Whitmore should ask? She's already sent two housemaids out to inquire about her friend. "
"We've already agreed that you know how to keep your mouth shut, haven't we?" Adrian's voice was silky with menace. "It would distress me to dismiss you after all these years. "
"I've served you well and discreetly for many years, my lord. I would be more disturbed to know I had failed you in any way. No one will discover anything from me. " His voice was growing fainter, and she guessed he was moving toward the outer door set in the thick stone wall. "Is there anything else you require from me, my lord?"
He was leaving, Charlotte thought. Her chance of escape was leaving, while she lay abed like an eastern houri, awaiting the return of her pasha. Get up, she told herself impatiently. For God's sake, say something.
She didn't move. She he
ard the heavy door close, shutting out the outside light, enveloping them in candlelit darkness once more. Heard the ominous click of the lock. Felt the ominous flow of relief.
He said he wasn't going to need another partner for the next few days. It sounded as if he had no intention of dismissing her, but perhaps the clear insanity that had taken over last night was continuing into the day, and he simply meant he didn't want anyone at all. Perhaps the hours in that bed had been so boring he'd decided he'd rather have no. . . disporting at all.
She managed to shut her eyes again just before he pushed the curtains open, trying to keep her breathing still and shallow. She could smell coffee, surely the most delicious smell in the entire world, could practically feel its heat underneath her nose.
"You may as well open your eyes, precious," he said in that thoroughly annoying, enticing drawl of his. "I know you're awake. "
She opened one eye to stare at him balefully. "Of course I'm awake. Who wouldn't be with you wafting hot coffee underneath their nose?"
"If you want some you're going to have to sit up," he said, handing her the delicate bone-china cup before moving away. He was dressed, at least partially, in breeches and a loose white shirt, and his long golden hair was tied at the back of his neck. He hadn't been shaved yet—the servant must be coming back. That was when she would leave. Thank God, she told herself.
She pulled the sheet up around her breasts and managed to sit up without spilling the coffee. She took a first sip and felt the blissful strength of it dance through her veins. He was across the room, his back to her, which was a relief. What in the world could they discuss, given the situation? Literature?
She let out a convincing yawn. "Did I miss your servant? Is it morning yet?"
He turned back. "What you mean is, am I willing to let you go yet?"
She would hardly be stupid enough to deny it. "Of course. ”
"He'll be back. In the meantime, I had him bring you a bath. I thought you'd find it soothing before you left. "
Before she left. He'd warned her, hadn't he? One night only.
And really, this was a good thing. The sooner she got back to her normal life the sooner she could begin pulling herself back together.
Author: Anne Stuart
The coffee was suddenly bitter. She swung her legs over the side of the bed, leaned forward and set the half-empty cup on the table. "A bath would be lovely,” she said in an even voice, starting to rise.
She'd overestimated her own resiliency. The moment she got to her feet she felt her balance begin to waver, the shadow-lit room turned into pools of black in front of her eyes and she wondered if she was going to do the most embarrassing thing she could possibly imagine and fall face-first in a dead faint, directly at Adrian Rohan's bare feet.
He moved, fast and graceful, his hand catching her arm as she started to waver, as the sheet started to slip. She grabbed for it, almost going over, and he quickly caught it in one hand, yanking it up around her.
Which didn't mate things any easier, she thought gloomily. Now he didn't even want to look at her. Not that she could blame him. She was hardly in the same class as most of the women he'd bedded.