She sighed, then looked down and shook out her skirts. “I suppose we should get back.”
Her tone suggested she wasn’t convinced. Through the waning moonlight, he stared at her. It was go back, or…
His body felt wooden, but he forced one arm up and waved her to the door. “Yes. We should. We need to be seen again.”
She passed by him on her way to the door, head tilting, a slight frown on her face as she tried to see his eyes well enough to gauge the reason behind his terse tone.
He broke; as she passed, he swung behind her and slipped an arm about her waist. He drew her back against him, one hand splayed over her waist, the other palm stroking her upper arm—his fingertips quite deliberately lightly caressing the side of her breast.
She sucked in a breath but didn’t freeze.
Bending his head, he pressed his lips to the warm, scented hair above her ear, and whispered, “I want you, Phoebe, and you will be mine. Soon.”
A second ticked by, then he straightened. And released her.
She didn’t immediately move forward. Instead, she turned her head and over her shoulder met his eyes. Then she looked at his lips, and nodded. “Soon.”
With that, head high, she swept to the door.
He blinked, mentally shook his head free of his lust, and, his expression studiously impassive, followed.
She was going to do it—she was going to have an affair. With Deverell.
Later that night, a full hour after the last guest retired to his chamber and the house at last fell silent, Phoebe started down the main stairs on her way to take care of the last outstanding item on her immediate agenda. Once she’d dealt with Jessica, she would be free to devote her mind entirely to Deverell and his seductive abilities.
Not least of those was the ability to stir her, to excite her as no man ever had. Just by looking at her. One touch, and her skin came alive; one darkly whispered word, and her desire took flight.
If she was ever to learn of passion, he was the one to teach her.
He was obviously godsent, for the most impressive of his abilities, the one she valued most, one she knew was rare among men of his type, was not so much his control but his willingness to exercise it on her behalf.
That was impressive. It was also comforting and reassuring, especially to her. Time and again, he’d drawn a line and stuck to it. He could have gone further tonight—she wouldn’t have minded taking one step more—but no. They’d agreed on one step at a time, so one step at a time was what she’d got.
She might be impatient, but she wasn’t about to argue with that. Instead, she was fantasizing about what their next step would entail.
But first…
The front hall was wreathed in deep shadows. Stepping off the last stair, she listened, but everyone, including the exhausted staff, was slumbering deeply; no sound of any human reached her ears. Reassured, she walked across the hall to the library.
This part of their rescues always fell to her; if anyone saw her walking about at night, they wouldn’t question her. If any servants chanced to happen by, she could easily dismiss them.
Opening the library door, she walked in and shut it behind her. The room lay in darkness; the curtains weren’t drawn, but the moon had waned. She searched the dense shadows but saw nothing. Walking forward, she halted in the center of the room. “Jessica?”
The girl audibly gulped. “H-here, ma’am.” She rose and came forward from the nook beside the fireplace where she’d been crouched. She was clutching a small satchel and a bundle in her arms and was wearing a thick coat over a plain gown.
“Good.” Phoebe nodded approvingly. She spoke quietly and clearly as she turned to the French doors. “Not long now and you’ll be safe away. Come along.”
She’d arranged to meet Jessica in the library because it gave onto the side lawn, which in turn gave ready access to the wood. Unlocking the French doors, she led Jessica through, then closed the doors, leaving them unlocked. Turning, she crossed the terrace, beckoning Jessica to follow, then went down the steps to the lawn.
“This way.” She kept her voice down, as whispering only increased the tension unnecessarily. She led the way directly across the side lawn. “The carriage will be waiting in the lane on the other side of the wood. There’s a break in the wall, so we won’t need to climb over.”
When she glanced at Jessica, scurrying, huddled, beside her, the maid nodded, but her eyes were wide, and her pallor owed little to the poor light.
Mentally cursing Lord Moffat, Phoebe faced forward and walked steadily on.
They reached the wood and marched into the dense shadows beneath the trees. The way was dark, but Phoebe knew it well enough. She’d exchanged her fringed silk shawl for a more serviceable woolen one, but the wood was kept well-thinned; there was no undergrowth on which to snag her skirts.
She unerringly led Jessica between the trees to the spot where the stone wall circling the manor’s park had crumbled, leaving a gap large enough to easily climb through.