She tossed on the bed, in rapid succession, her dress, stockings, slip and underpants. Stripped down to bare skin, she raced back downstairs, leaped gingerly onto the dry sink and started pumping in water. There was no time to take a bath in the pond. She was in too much of a hurry.Maybe he was already gone. Or maybe he was just out. Or maybe he was picking up another woman somewhere. Or maybe…Lowering her dripping feet to the floor, she rubbed her skin dry with a towel and flew back up the stairs again. Tugging open the wardrobe, she thumbed through the hangers impatiently, finding absolutely nothing with any seductive potential. She’d packed for solitary cottage living, not come-hither nonsense. And you shouldn’t be racing; you should be feeling thoroughly guilty over Richard, she told herself severely, as she lifted out a stark-white silk blouse, wrinkled her nose and let the blouse fall to the floor.She did feel guilty, actually. She’d shared a great deal with Richard, and she cared for him and she was miserably sorry he’d traveled so far for nothing.
