Alone in her sitting room, she watched his back as he all but fled for the stairs.
She sipped her sherry.
What's got into him?
She sighed. She had no way of finding out at the moment, and plenty of work in the morning, so she went straight upstairs to her narrow bed after draining the tiny glass.
And what of it, if the thought of his voice made her hands slide down her body? What did it matter, as long as she stopped before her fingers got to that hidden place?
The envelope had come in the morning post. It was just a bill, so his thoughts were elsewhere as he searched in vain for the letter opener and decided to rip the damn thing open. It was a rare physical display of frustration.
She stopped in front of his door as he inhaled with a hiss. He cursed at the offending envelope, then looked up at her, mortified, sucking his finger.
"I'm so sorry you had to hear that, Mrs Hughes," he said quickly, again putting his finger in his mouth as he stood.
She knocked absently on the door as she stepped into his pantry with a look of concern. Far be it from her to want to suck a man's blood, but she wouldn't mind tasting his fingers -
She was horrified at her own thoughts in the light of day and closed her mouth; she hadn't realized her jaw had dropped at the sight of him.