“Go away, Robert,” she said firmly.

“We need to talk, Lisa,” he said just as firmly.

“I don’t want to,” was her response.

A moment of silence followed and then the doorknob twisted, but the chair held it closed. There was a heavy silence and then Robert growled, “Have you locked the door?”

“No. I jammed a chair under it,” she announced. “I am not speaking to you, Robert. Just go away.”

Lisa waited a moment, almost holding her breath, but when no response came, she moved cautiously to the door and listened. However, she couldn’t hear anything and couldn’t tell if he was still out there or not.

Frowning, Lisa turned away and peered around the room. She then paced restlessly toward the window only to stop halfway there and swing back impatiently toward her bed. She would not spend the next five hours pacing around like a caged animal. It would drive her crazy. She needed to sleep, or read, or something.

Thinking would be good too, Lisa acknowledged, but she had been trying to do that ever since returning. However, rather than think about what to do, her mind seemed fixed on Robert and all the delightful things he had done to her today and yesterday. That was the last thing she wanted to do now when Richard and Christiana were not here to prevent her from repeating her folly yet again.

Sighing, Lisa quickly removed her gown and set it across the foot of the bed, then moved to her chest to find a nightgown. The first thing she saw, of course, was the see-through gown of Mrs. Morgan’s. Lisa sighed as she peered at it where it lay folded and resting on top of the clothes in the chest. She would have to tell Bet to burn the damned thing, she thought, but couldn’t resist reaching out to caress it as her mind flooded with memories.

Shaking her head to try to remove the images filling it, Lisa grabbed a white nightgown and straightened, then whirled with a gasp as her window burst open with a crash.

“Robert?” she said with amazement as he swung himself into the room. “What the devil?”

“We shall have to put a better lock on that window,” he said calmly, pushing the two sides closed, but not bothering to try to relatch it. It was dangling and definitely broken. Turning back, he added, “And it was incredibly foolish of you to jam the door with the chair. If your hooded man returned, I wouldn’t have been able to get in to help you.”

“I was more concerned about keeping you out than anything else,” she said dryly.

“Yes, well . . .” He grimaced. “That didn’t work very well.”

She rolled her eyes at the ridiculously obvious claim and then stilled as she saw a small dark stain on his shirt. Biting her lip, she asked shakily, “Is that blood?”