Page 74 of Almost a Bride
And by the saints, how would she stop herself from doing just that? Even now the memories of his hands on her body were full of such exquisite pleasure that they made her shudder. He’d said there was even more—how could she resist that discovery?
But she would have to.
She lay still, biting her lip, dreading their first encounter—until she noticed the stillness that hovered in her cottage. Wouldn’t he be up by now, practicing his walking, readying himself to leave—
A shock of pain made her stiffen. She told herself that he would be at the barn or at the manor, but even as she scrambled down the ladder wearing only a blanket, she knew what she would find.
There was a piece of parchment on the table that had not been there before. With shaking fingers, she lifted it.
I had to leave for London. Thank you for everything.
S
Roselyn slumped onto the bench as the parchment fluttered to the floor.
Thank you for everything?
She wanted to laugh, but she felt frozen, distant. She had given Spencer Thornton solace in every way she could—and then given the last precious thing she owned, her body.
He’d waited until he had that conquest before leaving—had it been his final revenge?
Her eyes were painfully dry, and her chest ached too much to sob.
Had he gotten everything from her that marriage would have given him, all so he could claim her an adulterer in the end?
She suddenly felt cold. She hugged the blanket about her bare arms and realized with dawning horror that she could already be carrying his child.
She dropped her head back and squeezed her eyes shut. If she was with child, what could she tell the Heywoods, especially John?
She tried to let the numbness take over, to soothe her wounded spirit and pride. But her hands shook as she poured hot water into a basin and washed the smell of Spencer from her body. She scrubbed the stickiness between her thighs with particular virulence.
Then she dressed and walked outside, where the late summer sun shone as if belying the rainstorm that had swept her away the previous night. She picked up their wet garments and hung hers over the wall to dry—and hid his on a rack in the bake house.
Returning to the cottage, she told herself she had to eat to keep up her strength, but the stale bread and hard cheese made her nauseated. A knock rattled her door, and Roselyn squashed the flare of hope that immediately flickered in her chest—Spencer was gone, and he wouldn’t be coming back.
She opened the door to find Francis, his eyes grave. With a polite smile, she invited him inside.
“Would you care to share my meal, Francis?” she asked, sitting at the table.
“Lady Roselyn,” he began in a hesitant voice.
She realized that he already knew Spencer was gone. But did he know everything? Did he know what kind of a woman she was, what she’d done—
“Lord Thornton came to me in the middle of the night,” Francis continued.
She nodded slowly, not looking at him. “I discovered him gone when I awoke.”
“Did he not even say good-bye?”
In too intimate a way.“Oh, his note was very polite. I have it here somewhere—ah, it fell on the floor.” She picked it up and handed it to him.
Francis read it silently, then raised his eyes to her. “He said nothing more than this?”
She shook her head. “Are you certain you wouldn’t like some bread? I baked it yesterday—”
“My lady,” he interrupted, “I gave Lord Thornton supplies and a horse for the journey. He asked me to have you live at the manor for protection. Why would he say that?”
Roselyn shrugged, though even now she could remember the Spaniard’s filthy hand covering her mouth. “Thornton is gone, and I can see that I was right not to marry him.”
