inside the large sleeves, ignoring the faint tremor. The interval was over, it was time to return to her normal life. Time to move on, without looking back.
In the light of day the courtyard looked smaller than she had imagined. There was no one in sight—
even his servant had disappeared. Odd, though. She had the strange sense someone was watching her as she walked back toward the Portal of Venus. The grass was cold and wet on her bare feet, and she realized by the position of the sun that it was still early. She moved on, slowly, deliberately, refusing to think.
She passed an occasional servant as she went, but they kept their heads down, refusing to look at her. The Revels must still be continuing, she realized. Everyone else was siill in the midst of their debauchery.
It was just as well. She no longer had the strip of white cloth that signified she had no interest in participating, and if anyone decided she was fair game she'd have a hard time putting up a fight. She was lost, defeated. Everything ached. Not that he'd been too rough. They'd made love gently, fiercely, with tenderness and with anger. She was bruised from his hard grip, he was raked by her nails, but the only thing he'd been brutal with was her heart.
She skirted the now-silent chapel with its obscene imagery, headed down toward the river, a narrow stream that carried the small flat boats from Hensley Court and back. She could only hope one was waiting there. Even if there was no servant she could probably manage to pilot the boat herself. It moved by way of a long barge pole, and she probably had enough strength to use it. If she didn't, she'd walk, or swim, or fly if she had to. Anything to get away from this sorrowful place.
The path led down beside a steep embankment overlooking the water, and there were rocks lining the path. She glanced down—when they'd arrived it had been dark and she'd had no idea how dangerous it was. It was a good thing she was barefoot—it made her more sure-footed.
The trees were rustling overhead. New leaves were budding, and the wind had picked up, pulling at her hood. She tugged it closer, keeping her head down, unable to see on either side, her hearing muffled as well. It wasn't until the hands touched her that she realized she was not alone.
And she was falling, down the steep embankment, the rough stones tearing at her arms and legs, the branches slapping at her. The hood fell back, and for a brief moment she looked up. up, to see someone standing at the top of the bluff, unmoving. Someone who had pushed her.
She landed against the boulders. The breath was knocked from her lungs, and she lay perfectly still, unable lo breathe, unable to move. Her eyes were open, staring up at the figure above her, and she realized to her horror that he was starting down the steep hill toward her. Not to help her. To finish her off.
She tried to scream, but her breath was still gone, and all she could do was gasp and choke, flailing around. She could feel something wet and warm sliding down her face, and she knew it was blood.
She was going to die, she thought. Whoever had shoved her down the cliff was going to kill her.
"Madame, are you all right?" The rough Yorkshire accent came from somewhere beyond her, down at her level, and the man above swiftly turned and began climbing upward, away from her.
Her breath came back in a huge, sucking whoosh. "I... I..." For a moment she couldn’t find her voice.
Someone was coming toward her now, someone tall, and the rising sun was behind him, throwing him in shadows. For a moment she thought it was Adrian, and her heart leaped. But he came closer, and it was a stranger, one of the servants, kneeling beside her. "Just lie still, miss," he said. "Help is coming."
Help is coming, she thought dizzily. She tried to look up toward the bluff, but there was no one in sight. "You must have slipped, miss," the man was saying. "That hillside is right dangerous—you could have been killed. Can you speak, miss?"
She moved her mouth, trying to get the words out.
who'd pushed her. Who'd tried to kill her. But that was ridiculous—why would anyone want to hurt her? 'The man..." she managed to say.
"What man, miss?"
But