Page 38 of The Hidden Heart

She forced herself to raise her face to look him in the eyes. His expression was unreadable. She hoped her words had been appropriate; she scarcely knew what she had said. She wanted only to get away now and be by herself for the next few hours. “If you will excuse me…”

“Certainly.”

She turned and walked to the door, curling her fingers into her palms until the nails cut into her skin. She kept her stride slow and regular, too proud to appear to run like a rabbit, as she felt like doing.

Cleybourne watched her go, wondering why, when he had done exactly what he should, he felt even lower than he had.

* * *

Jessica begged off joining the other adults for supper that night, claiming that she was not feeling well. She felt sure that her starkly white face and shadowed eyes had convinced Lady Westhampton that she was indeed ill. Rachel told her she must indeed lie down and rest; she was probably done in from the fright she had received the night before.

As soon as Richard saw that Jessica was not at supper that night, he was certain she had stayed away because of him and his abominable behavior the night before. He had hoped his apology would make things all right between them, but the whole thing had been so stiff and awkward that he felt almost as if he had made things worse.

He had acted in a way completely unlike himself last night. Never had he felt so much at the edge of his control, so unable to govern his actions. He had taken advantage of the situation, seducing—no, practically forcing himself upon—her when she was at her weakest. It had not been the act of a gentleman, and he felt even guiltier at acting the cad toward Jessica than he did about desiring a woman other than Caroline.

Richard had stayed awake much of the night thinking about it, and the more he thought about what he had done, the worse it seemed, until this morning, when he made his apology to Miss Maitland, he had felt so low he had barely been able to make himself look her in the eyes. And she had been so subdued. So unlike herself. He would not have been at all surprised if she had lashed out at him in anger, telling him exactly what she thought of him for his unwelcome advances. Indeed, he had rather expected it. Instead she had looked down and spoken softly, clear indications of how badly he had wounded her trust.

He felt sure there had been other men who had tried to take advantage of her powerless position as governess in their household—and now she would think he was like them. The idea made him slightly nauseated.

Leona, of course, was as irritating as always, smiling at him archly and preening, frequently letting her hand stray to her throat or chest, trying to draw attention to her overflowing bosom. Looking at her in her flimsy dress, Richard wondered how the woman managed not to catch her death of cold in the winter.

After the meal, Richard made his escape to his study, but he disliked being alone with his thoughts there as much as he had all day. He left the study and walked aimlessly down the hall, pausing at the end to part the drapes and look out into the night. The sky was leaden, clouds obscuring the stars and moon, and with the drapes open, cold seeped through the glass. Baxter had told him earlier that the gardener said he could smell snow in the air. Richard was not sure exactly how the wiry old man’s nose could warn him of snow, but he had never known one of Calhoun’s weather predictions to be wrong. His bones told him of impending rain, the phases of the moon dictated his plantings, and his gardens were the most-admired for miles around.

He dropped the heavy velvet drape back into place and started up the stairs toward his bedroom. He was not sleepy yet, but he hoped that a little time spent quietly reading might induce that state. Turning the knob of his bedroom door, he stepped inside and took several steps across the floor before he stopped dead still and stared.

“Bloody hell!”

Leona was sitting on his bed, pillows propped up behind her supportively, and her legs curled under her. She wore nothing.

“Cat got your tongue, Richard?” she asked in her sultry voice, raising her arms above her head in a languid stretch that showed off her large, unhampered breasts to their best advantage. “Why don’t you come over here and take a closer look?”

“Have you run mad?” Richard exclaimed. “What the devil do you think you are doing?”

“Well, you wouldn’t come to me,” she said, pouting provocatively, “so I decided that I would simply have to come to you.”

“Didn’t you think that maybe there was a reason I didn’t come to you?” he asked harshly, striding toward the bed. “Where the hell are your clothes? Don’t tell me that even you came down the hall completely naked.”

Leona chuckled. “No. Although no doubt it would have brightened some footman’s day.” She rose up onto her knees, planting her hands on her hips and tilting her head to one side. “Well? See anything you like?”

She crossed her arms under her breasts, cupping the full white globes, then brushed her forefingers across the nipples so that they pointed sharply. “Come on, Richard, wouldn’t you like to touch me? Or maybe here…” Her hands slid down her body, caressing her abdomen and gliding over her hipbones and down onto her thighs.

“For pity’s sake, Leona, get out of that bed right now and put on some clothes. What if someone walked in?”

“Who would do that?”

“Well, my valet, for one,” he retorted sharply, looking about the room for whatever she had worn when she came in.

He found the sheer piece of cloth lying across the footboard of the bed and tossed it to her. “Here. Put this on. Now.”

Leona tossed the gown aside and got off the bed, walking toward him seductively. “Don’t be scared. I won’t bite.” She grinned. “Well, maybe just a little. Look at me, Richard. Can’t you feel yourself getting hard? In a minute you’ll be like a rock, I promise.”

She reached out her hands to the top button of his shirt and began undoing it. Richard jerked back quickly, and the button popped off. Leona’s eyes darkened.

“Is that what you want?” she asked huskily. “For me to tear that shirt off you?”

“No!” Richard felt embarrassed and more than a little foolish. “Leona, you will regret this in the morning.”

“I rarely regret anything.”