Leah trailed after Muriel, trying to find some happy. Damn it, it wasn’t there. She was too riddled with anxiety to do anything but keep moving forward like a shuffling zombie. She’d have to do something drastic to clear these cobwebs, and soon. There were two men in her life, two very different men, and even though she was pretty confident she knew what, and who, she wanted, she had to do something to make sure.
An entirely wicked idea popped into her head, and she grinned. This was going to be delicious.
“Are you well, miss?” Muriel said, tilting her head.
“I’m fucking spectacular,” Leah said, then clapped her hand over her mouth with a laugh. “Sorry, Muriel! I’m good. I promise.”
The maid gave her an odd look but continued on her way. Leah had to fight to keep from skipping up the stairs. Tonight would answer her questions and ease her pent-up tensions. Oh, this was going to be incredible.
The night was so cold her breath fogged out in front of her. She wrapped her cloak around her tighter and kept on trucking.
Not that she actually owned anything worth stealing.
The streets were completely empty of people. A shiver skittered down her spine, and she walked faster. Maybe she should have begged Muriel to come with her. As soon as the thought popped into her head, she shoved it off with a laugh. Yeah, she should totally have asked the innocent teenaged maid to hold her hand as she hauled ass to seduce her man.
The thought warmed her as she spied Granville House ahead. Seducing her man. Avery. He’d bolted; he’d nearly driven her crazy by revving her up and leaving her wanting. But they’d finish what they’d started tonight. She refused to take no for an answer.
The servants’ entrance was locked tight. Damn it. She resisted the urge to thump her fist against the heavy door in frustration. It wouldn’t do any good.
She shoved herself upright and nodded. Time for Plan B.
The conservatory on the ground floor was her target. She hoped the room that Henrietta had locked her in—gosh, weeks ago now—would still have its window unlatched.
She found it without trouble, careful to avoid the stables on her way. She didn’t want to run into that asshole of a stable master.
She breathed a relieved sigh when she reached the window. Finally. Bracing the heels of her hand on the window, she shoved upward with a grunt.
The window didn’t budge.
She bumped it, trying to encourage the seal to break. The window didn’t so much as squeak.
“Damnit,” she hissed. “What the hell do I have to do to get in this place?”
The front door was out. Smythe probably slept on the damn welcome mat. She could probably go around the bottom floor and try all the windows, but what if someone saw her? They’d throw her into prison before she could explain.
She looked up at the stars. Maybe one of them would have mercy and grant her a wish.
The moon’s soft glow reflected off a shiny leaf of ivy.
Ivy.
She rubbed her palms together briskly. It couldn’t be much more difficult than climbing a tree, right? She’d been awesome at that when she was about ten.
Of course, that had been a long time ago.
She shook her head as she tucked the ends of her skirt up. No way. She could do this. She could do anything she put her mind to.
“Shut up,” she muttered to herself as she gripped the trellis. “That instructor was a sadistic bastard.”
The wooden trellis creaked and groaned under her weight. The ivy was thick, and it was tough to figure out where her slippers would fit. But she kept her gaze locked on the windows of the top floor. She could get to him —she could. She had to.
She reached sideways, aiming for a thin spot in the foliage. Her fingers slipped, and she tilted dangerously. Pulling at the tendrils of vine, she pulled herself back toward the house. Her heart thumped and her breath came in little gasps.
“Damn, that was close.”
She looked toward the ground and gulped. She’d never been afraid of heights, and she wasn’t really afraid now. It was more the falling she had issue with.
No. She wasn’t going to fall. She was going to haul her ass up this trellis, make love to Avery, and if she ever got home, she’d invest in a rock climbing class.
Drawing even with the top of the trellis, she breathed a relieved sigh. Okay. Here she was. Now, which window was Avery’s? The trellis stretched wide, covering the bottoms of three top-floor windows. She could look down, see where the area was…A quick glimpse downward was enough to make her nausea rise. Nope, not looking down there anymore. Too damn scary.
She’d have to do it the hard way.
Moving to the closest window, she peeped above the bottom edge.
Several moments passed before her eyes grew accustomed to the dimness inside. She blinked several times before the vision cleared. Henry, one of the footmen, lay sprawled atop the covers, completely nude. Ugh. She hadn’t needed to see that. Fortunately, his roommate Oliver was fully clothed in the small bed across the room. Typical. The men got beds to themselves.
Hand over hand, foot over foot, she Spider-Manned it to the next window. When she didn’t think about the terrifying ground below, this was actually kind of fun.
With a whispered plea for luck, she lifted her head over the bottom edge of the window.
It didn’t take as long for her eyes to adjust this time. When she saw him, her breath caught.
Avery lay on his back, arm cast over his eyes to block out the beam of moonlight that highlighted his chest and face. He was gorgeous, dressed in nothing but his breeches. She couldn’t help but wish he’d been the one who slept in the buff. She might have been satisfied just hanging out here like George of the Jungle on a vine with a view like that.
Who was she kidding? She wanted to watch out for his tree.
A quick glance across his room confirmed her suspicions. Nobody else was in the room. She didn’t know why the other servants ostracized him, but it happened to be pretty convenient at the moment. Gripping the windowsill, she moved higher, stretching for the window latch. Thank God, it opened with the barest push. Third- floor windows were so much nicer than first floor!
She hoisted herself up onto the windowsill, tumbling into his room with a thump. Wincing, she glanced at him. Whew. He’d just turned over with the noise. Good to be a sound sleeper.
Her palms stung with the effort she’d used to grip the trellis, but she rubbed them against her skirt and ignored the tingling. What was a little discomfort? He’d obviously been through much worse in the past week or so.
Shedding her cloak, she moved toward him and knelt at his bedside. Her fingers trailed just above his chest, tracing the edges of greenish-yellow bruises. He’d been beaten severely, or had gotten in a bad fight.
Her throat closed, and her eyes stung at the thought of Avery in pain. God, what a hardheaded bastard. He got in trouble way more than he should. The memory of the time she’d bandaged him slammed into her. One man shouldn’t have to bear this much crap. But he did, and he’d never complained, not once.
It wasn’t pity or even compassion that moved her to lean over him and take his lips in a fervent kiss.
It was something much, much deeper.
