She recognized the dark hair and profile of Perry at once and quickly swallowed back the scream in her throat.
Gulping down the sound, she pressed a hand over her galloping heart, watching as he unfolded himself into a standing position.
She should scream. In many ways he was as dangerous to her as a highwayman. Ever since their kiss she could not trust herself with him any more than she could trust him.
Kiss? Ha! What transpired between them at Mrs. Blankenship’s garden had been child’s play compared to what took place at the pond. The things they had done on that rock were scandalous. She did not know men did those things. She did not know that a woman could feel those things.
She flung back the coverlet and jumped to her feet. Snatching a pillow off her bed, she tossed it at him. It bounced off him like a feather.
A man had invaded her bedchamber. She should be terrified, but she could only summon outrage and reach for another pillow.
She should be screeching with all the quivering virtue of a maiden. It would be the ordinary and expected reaction. If she were ordinary. And yet she knew she was not. She was a spinster with more carnal knowledge than she ought to possess.
She took a measured breath. It would do no good to cause a commotion. She would spare Papa the ordeal and scandal of discovering Mr. Butler in her bedchamber. His health was fragile. She would handle this herself as she did most all things since Mama died and Papa was struck down with his first fit of apoplexy. She did not need anyone taking care of her or managing this situation for her. She was a capable person. She could send him on his way back at her window all by herself.
Hugging the pillow in front of her like a shield, she demanded, “How dare you! What are you doing climbing through my window? Are you mad?”
He dusted off his clothing. “Oh, I am a great many things right now, none of which I had ever imagined, so that is quite possible. I would not discount it.”
She closed her mouth with a snap, absorbing that. She assessed him, taking in his broad chest lifting on several labored breaths. He was strong and fit. She did not think a simple climb up her trellis would wind him so greatly. So there was something more happening here. The way he stared back at her, intent and devouring, she had a suspicion that it was something to do with the crackling energy swelling between them.
She looked him up and down, noting that he had eschewed his customary dress again. It was just his boots, trousers and a fine lawn shirt. No vest. No jacket even in the chill evening air. She inhaled, wondering why her lungs felt so uncomfortably tight. It was as though she could not draw enough air. That V of bare skin at his throat and the top of his chest mesmerized her. She studied that patch of skin, marveling at how warm and inviting it looked. She moistened her lips and crossed her arms tightly, needing to pin her hands to keep them from reaching out to touch him.
Goodness. One illicit afternoon with him and she was insatiable. She did not even know herself anymore. Apparently she could not be in his company or within five feet of proximity without wanting to put hands on him, without wanting his hands and his mouth on her again. More. She wanted more. To fly out of her skin again.
She sniffed and glanced down at herself, suddenly conscious that she wore only her nightgown. A prim floor-to-the-neck nightgown, but a nightgown nonetheless—even if it was hidden behind a plump pillow.
No man had seen her in so little clothing before—well, in a manner. She had not fully disrobed with Perry at the pond, but he had seen plenty of her from the waist down. Her cheeks went scalding hot at the memory.
Mr. Butler followed her gaze, tracking her form, up and down. Something passed over his eyes. A dark storm slid over the icy gray and she shivered.
She fiddled with the high collar at her throat. “You cannot be here. We have houseguests. And my father is just down the hall.”
He cocked his head and looked decidedly unmoved. “Reasons that don’t seem to affect me.” He shrugged. “I wanted to see you.”
“You are not above the rules, Mr. Butler. You cannot simply