She pointedly avoided Daphne’s gaze as she crouched to begin picking up the things that had fallen out of her basket.
“Oh, I beg your pardon,” she said, reaching down to offer the maid a hand up. She gasped as the woman fell onto her rear on the ground, several items falling out of her basket. She returned to her chambers for a shawl, uncertain of the weather, but knowing protection from catching a chill would be needed when she traipsed about with only one layer of fabric between herself and the elements.Īs she left her room, she nearly collided with a maid carrying a basket full of freshly laundered clothing. A bit of fresh air would help to clear her head before she would inevitably face him again.
Turning her thoughts away from him proved impossible when she remained always aware of her surroundings, the ominous castle a reflection of its owner. If the way she was feeling right now were any indication, he would make her crave it. The man had paid to use her body as if she were no better than a prostitute, and now, he would make her like it. While it should relieve her that she would at least find pleasure during their encounters, it also frightened her. Lord Hartmoor had achieved the very thing she had hoped he would not by making her desire him.
Her nipples grew tight beneath her gown, her thighs becoming slick from the moisture pooling there. As she walked through the house, taking her time to inspect more of the rooms more closely, just the thought of the wicked things he’d done caused her face to flush. Her encounter with the Master of this imposing palace was never far from her mind, each touch of his hand and stroke of his tongue indelibly imprinted on her memory. Despite now having Adam’s permission to use the harp in the music room, she had grown too restless to sit still and practice. Fter cleaning herself up, Daphne left her chambers and continued exploring the castle alone.
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