“Whatever your attempts at discretion, you still meant to give
yourself to that puppy,” Kinvarra bit out, all amusement abruptly fled.
Alicia didn’t answer.
Chapter Two
THE WEATHER HAD worsened by the time they reached the inn. Alicia realized as they approached the ramshackle, rambling building that it was indeed the rough place Kinvarra had described. But just the prospect of shelter and a chance to rest her aching body was welcome. Surely Kinvarra couldn’t intend to ride on to his mysterious manor tonight when more snow fell every minute and their horse was blowing with exhaustion.
The earl dismounted and lifted her from the saddle. His hands were firm around her waist and she struggled to ignore the thrill that sizzled through her traitorous body. The lamps that lit the inn yard revealed that he looked tired and strangely, for a man who always seemed so indomitable, unhappy.
As he set her upon the cobblestones, his hands didn’t linger. She tried not to note that she’d touched Kinvarra more in the last few hours than she had since she’d left him. Nor did she wish to remember that hugging his strong back, she’d felt safer than she had in years.
“Let’s get you into the warmth.” He gestured for her to precede him inside as a groom rushed to take their horse.
Alicia had expected her husband to spend the journey haranguing her for her wantonness—or at the very least her idiocy in setting out for the wilds of Yorkshire in the depths of winter so ill prepared for disaster. But he’d remained quiet.
How she wished he’d berated her. She dearly needed to remember why she hated him. She’d spent a decade convincing herself
that leaving him had been her only choice of action. A moment’s unexpected kindness shouldn’t change that.
While his body offered a warm anchor and his adept hands
unerringly guided their horse toward sanctuary, resentment had proven fiendishly difficult to maintain. And when she wasn’t constantly sniping at him, it became impossible to ignore his physical presence. His clean, male scent—horses, leather, soap, fresh air. The muscles under her hands, hard even through his winter clothing. His lean strength.
Kinvarra had been a handsome boy. He’d become a splendid man. She’d forgotten how powerfully he affected her. And the pity of
it was that she’d need far too long after this to forget again. He made
every other man pale into insignificance.
It was vilely irritating.
The rotund landlord greeted them at the door, clearly overwhelmed to have the quality on his humble premises. The tap room was jammed to the rafters with people bundled up for an uncomfortable night on chairs and benches. A few hardy souls hunched near the fire drinking and smoking. One table of revelers even defied their circumstances and sang some carols in honor of the season.
Apart from a couple of serving maids, Alicia was the only woman present. Self-consciously she drew her hood around her face as she shifted closer to the blaze. The heat penetrated frozen extremities with painful force. Even molding herself to Kinvarra’s big, strong body, the ride had been frozen purgatory.
For all that she remained standing, she’d drifted into a half doze when she became aware of Kinvarra beside her. He spoke in a low voice to save them from eavesdroppers. “My lady, there’s a difficulty.”
Blinking, striving to regain alertness, she slowly turned to face him. “I’m happy to accept any accommodation. Surely you don’t plan to go on tonight.”
He shook his head. He’d taken off his hat and light sheened across his thick dark hair. “The weather will worsen before it improves. It would be cruel to force my horse back into the blizzard. And there isn’t another village for miles.”
“Then of course we’ll stay.”
His saturnine face was shuttered. “Are you sure?”
His hesitancy aroused misgivings. Her husband was never hesitant. “What is it?”
“There’s only one room.”
One room? Dear heaven. What a catastrophe. Aghast, she stared at him. “Surely…surely you could sleep in the tap room.”
The moment she made the suggestion, she felt like the world’s most ungrateful creature. Her husband had rescued her in extremely good spirit, given the compromising situation he caught her in. He’d made
a few cutting remarks, but she’d deserved much worse. Like her, he was tired and cold and hungry. It wasn’t fair to consign him to a hard floor and the company of a parcel of rustics, not to mention the vermin flourishing on their unwashed persons.
His lips twisted in a wry smile. “As you can see, there’s no space. Even if there was, I won’t leave you on your own with the place full of God knows what ruffians.”