She had been walking—in a blizzard. She was likely exhausted.
“I’ll…” She shoved her arms into her coat and rolled the old gown into a haphazard bundle. “I’ll return the gown once I’m settled.” She jerked her head around and rushed toward the door. But before she could open it, Jack shot across the room to prevent her from doing so.
Directly behind her but careful to give her some distance, Jack propped one hand on the closed door and dropped his other to her shoulder.
“Please,” she said. “I never intended... I’m such a fool! Of course you didn’t allow me to stay in this room and feed me because you werein love with me.” She let out an almost hysterical bark of laughter. “What must you think! What must you have thought!” Her voice broke, and her shoulders began shaking. “You are right, you know. About my family.”
“Hush.”
“You should have left me on the side of that road.” Silent sobs shook her.
With his plans for the evening up in smoke, Jack wanted to be angry at her. But none of this was her fault. The blame was his.
The blame was his but also whoever the hell had sent her traveling alone across England in the depths of winter.
“Don’t be foolish. You would have died.”
“Exactly.”
She was at the end of her rope.
“But I didn’t leave you there and… I am glad for that.” Jack was surprised at the truth in his words. As much as he’d convinced himself he was annoyed by her, he found her to be uniquely… sweet.
He wasn’t at all the sort of man who appreciated innocence or naivety. But with Delia, these traits managed to be… alluring. Hell and damnation, for reasons he didn’t understand,he liked her.
“Come back and sit down,” he suggested. “You aren’t going anywhere tonight.”
“You were willing to put up with me when you thought I was a—one of those women—but now I’m just a burden—to you, to my father, my mother, even my sister thinks I’ve ruined her chances…” She shook her head and then pulled at the door again, but Jack held it closed.
God only knew what would happen to her if she walked out of this chamber tonight. Most of those gentlemen in the taproom weren’t gentlemen at all.
They would likely come to the same mistaken conclusion that he had. And when she told them differently, they wouldn’t care that they were wrong.
“I’ll sleep in the stable. Please. Just let me go.”
“No.” Good lord, it was freezing outside. If she managed to survive the lecherous animals in the taproom, the storm would finish her off.
She dropped her shoulders, at the same time tilting her head forward, thumping it against the door.
She gulped. “It would have been better if you’d kept driving.”
“Hush.” Jack wound his hands around her waist, grateful she seemed to relent. Before all this happened, he’d been kissing her. He’d been tasting her skin and exploring lush, intimate curves.
He stifled those urges and walked her back so she could sit on the bed. She sniffed but didn’t bother wiping the tears off her face.
A flimsy nightdress was draped over the partition set up at the end of the room. It was a garment meant to reveal more than to cover.
He should have retrieved her belongings. It wouldn’t have killed them to take five additional minutes to turn back. He’d simply chosen not to see her as a person.
When had he become such a selfish bastard?
Jack crossed to where his own trunk sat. After rummaging inside, he lifted out one of his shirts. She would swim in it, but she’d likely feel more protected—less vulnerable than if she donned the slip of lace provided by Molly.
“Change into this and then take the bed.” He dropped the linen garment beside where she sat. “You won’t be bothered.” Not by him and not by anyone else.
For the first time since he’d removed his hands from her thigh, she met his eyes.
“Consider it an early Christmas gift,” he said.