her return home.
Her fingers began to tingle, signaling her body was about to phase-back to full flesh. Jupiter! Had she known she’d need to stay invisible for an extended period of time this evening, she would have taken precautions. She turned away from the doorway to explore the back of the house. Hopefully, she could find some linens or a garment she could borrow until the stranger left the household and Locke could show her where her trunk had been placed.
The kitchen spanned the back end of the house, but the long tiled counters and the wooden worktable were devoid of any useable cloth. She did, however, find some candles and a tin of matches.
The tingling sensation increased, and her skin began to reappear with a thin milky white, almost translucent quality. It wouldn’t be prudent for Locke’s visitor to catch an accidental glimpse of her prowling around the ground floor of the residence. Using a lit candle as a guide, she found the servant’s stairs. Once she had ascended to the next floor, she ventured halfway down the hall before finding an unlocked door. She opened the door and knew immediately she had stumbled into Locke’s bedroom.
The room, extraordinarily large and open, held his scent, cinnabar and sandalwood, as if he had just left. Rather than the popular four-poster curtained bed, his wooden carved headboard rose and curved into a half-tester, thus leaving the large mattress open to the light and elements. Books were piled everywhere, and on the opposite wall, two towering wardrobes were set within an arm’s span of each other.
She should leave, she thought, and explore further until she found another sanctuary, but her feet, contrary to her thoughts, carried her deeper inside. Locke was busy downstairs; he wouldn’t know what she was about. A glow in a full-length mirror caught her attention. She looked closer noticing that she was the luminous one. She’d never seen herself in quite this fashion. It was hard to look away as the glow intensified and then began to cool. Her skin took on the appearance of white marble, and she fancied herself looking a bit like one of those grand statues on display in museums and gardens. She smiled; all she needed was some proper draping, an urn of water, and chubby cherubs dancing around her feet to be mistaken for a fountain.
However, this marble maiden better find something to cover herself unless she wants to be caught naked dallying in Locke’s bedroom. She moved toward the wardrobes. One was bound to provide a garment of suitable length.
She placed her candleholder on a table and opened the wooden doors of the first wardrobe to discover a woman’s garments, which would not have been alarming had the garments been hers. They were not. Shocked, she stared at the silks and linens, feeling embarrassed and a bit humiliated. She hadn’t thought to ask Locke if another woman shared this house with him. As Locke was an attractive man of an eligible age, she supposed she should have expected as much. Was it any wonder that his glib proposal that she move into this house slipped so easily from his lips? A bitter disappointment lodged in her throat. Perhaps her earlier misunderstanding about his intentions was not far off the mark, after all.
Footsteps sounded in the hall behind her and she quickly stepped behind the open door of the wardrobe, letting the wooden panel shield her from knee to forehead.
“Miss Havershaw?” Locke called. “I see candlelight. You must be in . . . oh . . . there you are.” She heard laughter in his voice and tilted her head around the side. He held out the pink robe. “I thought you might need this.”
“I believe I’ll need a bit more,” she said, letting her indignation at her recent discovery filter into her tone. “If I recall, that robe has a large slit down the front. Under the current circumstances, I doubt that alone will prove sufficient.”
“Current circumstances . . . ?” He looked pointedly at her bare
Her fingers began to tingle, signaling her body was about to phase-back to full flesh. Jupiter! Had she known she’d need to stay invisible for an extended period of time this evening, she would have taken precautions. She turned away from the doorway to explore the back of the house. Hopefully, she could find some linens or a garment she could borrow until the stranger left the household and Locke could show her where her trunk had been placed.
The kitchen spanned the back end of the house, but the long tiled counters and the wooden worktable were devoid of any useable cloth. She did, however, find some candles and a tin of matches.
The tingling sensation increased, and her skin began to reappear with a thin milky white, almost translucent quality. It wouldn’t be prudent for Locke’s visitor to catch an accidental glimpse of her prowling around the ground floor of the residence. Using a lit candle as a guide, she found the servant’s stairs. Once she had ascended to the next floor, she ventured halfway down the hall before finding an unlocked door. She opened the door and knew immediately she had stumbled into Locke’s bedroom.
The room, extraordinarily large and open, held his scent, cinnabar and sandalwood, as if he had just left. Rather than the popular four-poster curtained bed, his wooden carved headboard rose and curved into a half-tester, thus leaving the large mattress open to the light and elements. Books were piled everywhere, and on the opposite wall, two towering wardrobes were set within an arm’s span of each other.
She should leave, she thought, and explore further until she found another sanctuary, but her feet, contrary to her thoughts, carried her deeper inside. Locke was busy downstairs; he wouldn’t know what she was about. A glow in a full-length mirror caught her attention. She looked closer noticing that she was the luminous one. She’d never seen herself in quite this fashion. It was hard to look away as the glow intensified and then began to cool. Her skin took on the appearance of white marble, and she fancied herself looking a bit like one of those grand statues on display in museums and gardens. She smiled; all she needed was some proper draping, an urn of water, and chubby cherubs dancing around her feet to be mistaken for a fountain.
However, this marble maiden better find something to cover herself unless she wants to be caught naked dallying in Locke’s bedroom. She moved toward the wardrobes. One was bound to provide a garment of suitable length.
She placed her candleholder on a table and opened the wooden doors of the first wardrobe to discover a woman’s garments, which would not have been alarming had the garments been hers. They were not. Shocked, she stared at the silks and linens, feeling embarrassed and a bit humiliated. She hadn’t thought to ask Locke if another woman shared this house with him. As Locke was an attractive man of an eligible age, she supposed she should have expected as much. Was it any wonder that his glib proposal that she move into this house slipped so easily from his lips? A bitter disappointment lodged in her throat. Perhaps her earlier misunderstanding about his intentions was not far off the mark, after all.
Footsteps sounded in the hall behind her and she quickly stepped behind the open door of the wardrobe, letting the wooden panel shield her from knee to forehead.
“Miss Havershaw?” Locke called. “I see candlelight. You must be in . . . oh . . . there you are.” She heard laughter in his voice and tilted her head around the side. He held out the pink robe. “I thought you might need this.”
“I believe I’ll need a bit more,” she said, letting her indignation at her recent discovery filter into her tone. “If I recall, that robe has a large slit down the front. Under the current circumstances, I doubt that alone will prove sufficient.”
“Current circumstances . . . ?” He looked pointedly at her bare
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