With a dip of her head, she turned, slipped through the curtain, and walked the few paces to her door.
She opened the door, heard Sally’s snores, and knew she was in the right room.
Fighting not to look back, she went inside and shut the door quietly behind her, then she leaned back against the panel and, eyes still huge, stared into the dimness as, determined anew, she looked inside.
For several seconds, she examined the cauldron of roiling emotions surging within her.
She raised her fingertips to her lips and traced the swollen curves, amazed that such a potent mix of feelings could be brought to life by just a kiss.
A kiss between her and Nicholas Cynster.
For long moments, she considered that truth and wondered just what Pandora’s box her curiosity had opened.
CHAPTER7
The following morning, Addie rose with the dawn and, with Sally’s help, prepared to ride out, asking questions and scouting about for any hint of their thief, as they had planned the previous evening.
Alongside Nicholas.
As far as she could see, the only way to carry on was to hide every iota of awareness that kiss had stirred and, essentially, pretend it had never happened.
She wasn’t sure how successful she would be in that endeavor, but when she encountered Nicholas over the breakfast table, she quickly realized that he was attempting to pull off the same sleight of hand.
Beyond a grunt in response to her airy good morning, he barely glanced in her direction.
Certainly, as she settled at the table between Dickie and Nicholas and helped herself to toast, from Nicholas’s behavior, no one would have guessed that anything at all had occurred between them.
In the quiet of the night, in the alcove at the end of the corridor, with their lips pressed to each other’s—
Stop it!
She shifted on her seat and sternly quelled the impulse to verbally prod him.
Luckily, Dickie was not a morning person. She doubted her brother even noticed the silence at the table.
As soon as they’d cleared their plates and drained their mugs, they quit the parlor and found the others of their company—all except Sally—waiting in the foyer. In a group, they went out to the yard and reclaimed their mounts.
Addie failed to head for the mounting block in time.
Nicholas appeared before her. He met her gaze, then his hands closed about her waist, and he hoisted her up to her saddle.
For one second, as she looked down at him, her hands resting on his wrists, their gazes held, and she felt the connection between them, scintillating and undeniable, then he looked down and released her and moved to mount his gray.
She drew in a breath and raised her head and, as soon as he was in his saddle, led the way out of the yard.
As they’d discussed, they started out of town along the road to Burton.
Their first stop was the two competing carters’ yards. After they’d tied their horses’ reins to the railing fence of the yard on the right and, without quite meeting her eyes, Nicholas had lifted Addie down, he pointed across the road at the lad manning the yard gates opposite. “I’ll go and see what he has to say.” He tipped his head toward the woman who sat in a small office beside the gate in the railing fence. The office door stood wide, and the doorway and the desk beyond faced the roadway. “Why don’t you try her?”
Addie looked at the woman and nodded. “I will.” Refusing to allow herself to watch Nicholas cross the street, she raised her chin and advanced on the office.
The woman looked up as Addie darkened her doorway, and smiled. She was a jovial-looking woman, neatly dressed. “Yes? Can I help you?”
Addie returned her smile. “I hope so. We”—she waved vaguely across the road—“are trying to trace a stolen horse.”
“Are you?” The woman’s eyes widened. “My goodness, but that’s intrepid of you, miss. Do you often do that sort of thing?”
Addie blinked. “No. But this horse was stolen from my father’s property, so I’m helping to look for him.”
