Swanlea Spinsters 3- After The Abduction by Sabrina Jeffries

Author:Sabrina Jeffries [Jeffries, Sabrina]
Format: epub
Tags: Sabrina Jeffries
ISBN: 9780739425718
Publisher: Avon
Published: 2009-03-03T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 13

Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html According as the man is, so must you humour him. Terence’sThe Brothers,embroidered by Juliet

Laverick on her personal washcloth at seventeen

Aweek later, Juliet paced her bedchamber, tired of plying her needle and ferreting out what little dirt she could find. She’d run out of things to wipe, scour, or straighten. The silver, which had already been well polished, now reflected her image with startling clarity. She’d even banished all dust from the canopied top of her bed.

Thanks to Rosalind’s scheme, sneaking out was nearly impossible. Somebody was always in the halls, and the servants had been told she was ill. Only Rosalind’s maid had been taken into their confidence, since she was supposedly taking care of Juliet. So after a week Juliet was going steadily insane, with no one to talk to but her sister and Polly.

It was her own fault, too. She’d driven Sebastian out of her reach by her emotional outburst at their last encounter. He’d avoided her entirely all week. Even if she could find him, he’d never confess now. And she couldn’t find him. She’d tried sending notes, saying that they needed to speak. He ignored them. When she sneaked out at night, he was nowhere to be found. Once she’d even approached his bedchamber, but he hadn’t been there.

That perturbed her more than she’d like. Although he sometimes showed up at meals, according to Rosalind, he must be spending the rest of his time elsewhere. At Foxglen, perhaps? Or with a friend? She hadn’t thought of it until now, but he might have a mistress in town. He might be in another woman’s bedchamber at this very moment, fondling and kissing her and…

Tears welled in her eyes, and she wiped them away viciously. She didn’t care if he was! She didn’t!

Never mind that after being in his pockets for two days, it felt odd to go a week without him. Never mind that lately she ate little and slept less. And when she did sleep, she had shocking, fantastical dreams: of rolling about naked in rose petals on the floor of the conservatory. Or ivy vines twining up her thighs, past her belly and over her breasts until suddenly they weren’t ivy at all, but plundering fingers and hot, caressing lips that woke her from her fevered state to find herself mashing her pillow in her arms. Drat the wretch! It had taken her two years to banish him from her dreams, and now he thought he could creep in again when her back was turned. He had no right!

The door to her bedchamber banged open, startling her. She made a belated leap for her bed, but only landed sprawling across it as her sister entered.

“Not a very convincing sickbed performance,” Rosalind snapped. “It’s a good thing Griff is a gentleman and would never barge in here without knocking.”

Juliet sat up and scowled. “A pity that his wife doesn’t share his good breeding.”

“Indeed it is.” Not the least affronted, Rosalind plopped down on the end of the bed.

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