Lady Griffith's Second Chance

Chapter Fifteen

It was still dark outside when Regan returned to her room. The maid had not been in yet to clear the fireplace, to empty the pot under the bed, and so she breathed a sigh of relief as she leaned back against the door.

She had done the best she could to dress herself after slipping out of Thomas's bed. While he slumbered beneath the covers, one bare muscular leg sticking out from under the edge of the sheet, she grappled with her shift and her corset, finally giving up on the latter and simply tucking it beneath her arm once she managed to fit herself back into her gown. Her hair was hopeless, and she could only pray she wouldn't stumble upon anyone on her journey back to the other side of the house.

In her own room, she undressed again, tossing her clothes onto a chair and slipping into a nightgown and robe her maid had laid out for her hours before. Before she climbed into her own bed, she opened the door between her own room and Katharine's.

The fire had burned out and none of the candles or lamps were still lit. She stepped far enough into the room until she could see her daughter curled up in her bed, dark hair spread out on the pillow like an inky halo. Regan whispered a short prayer, the same she had taught the children when they were young, and retreated back into her bedroom.

Her own bed felt terribly cold after the hours spent with Thomas. She shivered as she scooted down beneath the covers, keeping her robe on for the additional warmth. She would not be able to sleep, she told herself. There was an ache between her legs, along the backs of her thighs. And when she closed her eyes, there he was. His touch. His voice. The slide of tongue, his fingers, of him inside of her.

She shivered again and pulled the blanket up to her chin. No, no. How could she rest when so much excitement, so many wonderful sensations still rippled through her? Onto her side, she focused on the window, on the pale grey light that had just begun to illuminate the eastern horizon. No, she would not be able to sleep. But she would just close her eyes for a moment, and then...

A light knock on the door, and Regan groaned at the sound. "Hmmph?" was all she could manage before the door opened quietly and her maid stepped into the room.

"Are you awake now, my lady?"

Regan blinked and brushed a thick lock of hair out of her eyes. The light from the windows was considerably brighter than it had been only a few minutes ago. She blinked again and pushed herself up to a sitting position in the bed. "What time is it?"

"Nearly eleven, my lady. I came to wake you earlier, but nothing could stir you. Miss Katharine said I should leave you to your rest and check on you later in the morning."

"Eleven o'clock?" Regan looked towards the carriage clock on the mantle, but her eyes were too bleary with sleep to make out the position of the hands. "It cannot be. I never oversleep."

Molly busied herself at the wardrobe, sorting through clothes while Regan untangled herself from the bedcovers and slid her feet down to the floor. "Will you have breakfast in your room or downstairs? They are still serving the other guests who tend to rise later in the day."

"Oh." Her hair seemed insistent on clinging around her neck and catching in her eyelashes. "Downstairs is fine. Where is Katharine?"

"With Lady Polmerol in the garden, if I am not mistaken." Three gowns found their way out of the wardrobe. Molly held them up for inspection, but to Regan's fogged mind, they all looked the same.

"The one on the right," she said, and sat down again on the edge of the bed. She winced slightly at the ache between her legs, still lingering despite her several hours of rest. Even through her tiredness, astonishment overwhelmed her as the memories of the previous night came flooding back.