She absently fingered the shank and rough head of the key, then locked the door, knowing that wouldn’t accomplish as much as Mr. Reed had hoped, because she’d still be able to get in and was entirely too aware of that fact. An hour. She must distract herself from the weight of the key in her pocket. The dark promises behind all those words he’d uttered. They should have frightened her, and they did, but something dark deep in her core thrilled to his voice and what he had said. She reminded herself there was no powder in her system, but still she couldn’t stop the shivers of longing that twisted her belly. She rubbed her arms, but that brought no relief, for she imagined his strong fingers on her. She forced her steps from the library and walked to the parlor, where the evening mail delivery sat on a silver tray. As she slit envelopes and tossed them aside, she wondered what he’d be doing in that room alone. Pacing? She paused for a moment, recalling some of Johnny’s words of how a frustrated man could take the unhealthy action of easing the tension.
