Page 45 of Mending the Baron's Sins
“It’s nothing,” Orla insisted, but without any real hope of success. There was something of the bloodhound in Esther. Once she had an idea, she would not let it go.
“Someone has toyed with your skirt.” Esther pointed at where the skirt didn’t quite lie flat. “Orla! What have you–” Yet shebroke off. She dropped the firewood with a clatter and grabbed Orla’s hand, dragging her back into Orla’s chamber.
“Ow, ow!” Orla pointed out. Esther released her fast. “It’s nothing, Esther. Whatever you think happened–”
“Alone in the company of a man that was once a known rake? Oh, yes! What a surprise it is that I’m thinking what I am thinking!”
“Esther, please,” Orla begged, kicking the door shut behind her. “It was nothing, all right?”
“Nothing?” Esther even gripped Orla’s skirt and waved it around. “Look at this thing. Your stockings will be around your ankles next.”
Orla snatched the skirt away from her.
“It was not that bad. It was just a kiss.”
“A kiss!?” Esther whispered the words, yet they were so outraged, she might as well have yelled them in Orla’s ear. “What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t. I wasn’t thinking. Oh, I know.” Orla turned on the spot, hiding her face in hands. “It was mad, a foolish thing. Wewere caught up in an argument, close to one another, and then it just… happened.”
“Happened? Did you fall on one another lip first?”
“Esther!” Orla whirled around, noting the slightest hint of humor on Esther’s lips.
“All right, listen to me.” Esther breathed deeply and took Orla’s shoulders with a gentle touch. “It was one kiss. You can stop it there, before anyone finds out and before it can ever happen again.”
“Aye, aye, you’re right,” Orla said hurriedly with a nod.
“You must stop it, Orla,” Esther pleaded. “He’s a baron, and you…”
“I’m a healer,” Orla muttered plainly. “I know. Nothing can come of it but my own heartbreak.”
Esther grimaced and nodded sadly.
“Protect yourself. Please?” she begged.
“I will.”
***
Orla threw the bedcovers over her head, praying that the darkness would bring sleep, but it did not. Try as she might, she couldn’t escape thinking about that kiss. She thought of how the baron had gripped her thigh, the tantalizing touch of his fingers before that exciting grasp. She thought too of her legs on either side of his hips, the feeling of his hard length against her core.
“So much could happen,” she whispered aloud. Tossing and turning, she hid her face under the pillow, wishing to block out the memory of what she had done, then a bell rang. “No, no. Please, no.”
She poked her head out of the pillow and the covers. The bell in the corner of her room was lit by the moonlight that bled in between the gap of the curtains. The bell rang twice, then stopped, then it rang again. The string attached to the other side disappeared into the wall. She knew that string snaked up through the house, deep within the walls, to where the other side of the string came out in the baron’s room.
He is ringing for me.
She leaped up, throwing the blankets off her body as she reached for the nearest gown. At this time of night, with him ringing for her, anything could be happening. What if he’d had anothercoughing fit? What if he’d fallen over and injured himself in one of his dizzy states?
She pulled her chemise and stays on, then a cheap gown. When the bell continued to ring, she tugged on the bell pull, so the other side would ring, and he’d realize she had heard the sound. She slipped her feet into her boots but didn’t bother to tie up her hair. If something was indeed wrong, then she couldn’t waste time.
She didn’t even bother lighting a candle, but snatched up her healing bag and ran from the room. She shot across the corridors and through the darkness, turning the corners by feeling her way around in the darkness.
Outside of his room, she didn’t bother to knock and just opened the door wide.
Two candles were lit in his chamber, as was the fire. The roaring red light bled around the room, casting it in a soft scarlet glow.
Yet the baron was not ill on the floor, injured, and complaining of pain. Nor was he leaning over a chamber pot, being sick or possessed with a coughing fit. He was pacing up and down with surprising energy. He looked at her, but continued to pace, his whole body tight with anxiousness.
