Giggles muffled against warm lips, teasing fingers combing through her long, tangled hair. But she couldn’t quite shut off that nagging urge, so she walked quickly out of the kitchen and went upstairs to bed.īut she dreamed, and the dreams were full of laughter….Ī man’s arms around her, the two of them rolling over a soft, giving mattress like wrestling children. She blew out a breath, shut off the questioning part of her brain. Uncomfortable, which is why I don’t intend to lose it. Knight, so it’s a matter of control? How do you feel about the possible loss of control? Once I have control of the situation-Īh, Dr. So it frightens, exhilarates and stirs the curiosity. Why would I be frightened of it? Because it remains unknown, she answered herself. Sex is a basic biological function, a human experience. He saw her as a woman who could hold her own with him, and she was going to find a way to do exactly that.įrightened, you say. And if Shane MacKade offered experience, she’d sample it. No more spending her life huddled behind a desk or a handy book. No more mousy, fade-into-the-corner Rebecca, she thought. Something she would have to gather the courage to explore. Was it the place that pulled at her? she wondered. She imagined he was snuggled up with that beautiful brunette, or some other equally appealing woman, for the night.īut still the urge was there, so powerful, so elementally physical, it brought an ache to her belly. She wanted to go into that house, to go to him. The urge to go out, walk over that grass, over those fields. She was drawn to the window, and that open and curious mind drifted past the gardens and the lawn, through the trees, to the fields beyond. Patience was as important as an open and curious mind. There had been a moment, she reminded herself. She struggled against discouragement as she wandered into the kitchen. In the solarium there was nothing but leafy plants, cozy chairs, and the light of the moon through the glass.
She tried every room-the parlor where some said you could smell wood smoke from a fire that wasn’t burning, the library, which both Regan and Cassie avoided as much as possible, because they felt uncomfortable there. They were all less substantial than thoughts to her. She moved downstairs, lingering as she tried to envision the murdered Confederate soldier, the shocked Abigail, the terrified servants, the murdering Barlow. In the hall, she stood quietly, waiting, hoping, but there was only the dark and the stillness. Too restless to sleep, she left her room. Precisely she added the event to her records before shutting the computer down. So she made herself sit, monitored the equipment for another thirty minutes. Any project was doomed without objectivity.
The sound of her own voice, the raw intensity in it, had her forcing herself to take several deep breaths.
0 kommentar(er)
