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Chapter Fifteen

C aden crossed the threshold surveying the neat, traditionally furnished chamber in the Jolly Pumpkin feeling anything but jolly. Having Anna mere steps away was akin to having an itch he couldn’t reach to scratch. So close yet, for all practical purposes, half a world away.

He stripped off his damp great coat, slung it atop the bed, then dropped into the armchair next to the crackling hearth. He pried off his boots, then sat, fingers steepled under his nose, and stared into the flames.

She was here, having stowed herself onto Harrison’s traveling coach. Why?

His mouth curved in a grim smile. At least now he knew why he couldn’t get that infernal, mind-drugging, luscious scent of hers out of his nostrils.

The moment he’d laid eyes on her climbing out of the luggage hold, everything in him clenched up tight like a tiger crouched to spring. He’d wanted nothing so much as to grab her, pull her close, and beg her to forgive him— him— for the things he’d said.

Then he’d remembered her lies. Her marital status. Her dismissal of everything he’d offered—save his kisses. She liked those well enough.

Bitterness and longing and wounded male pride clashed inside him, and the best he could was keep his mouth shut and let her do the talking.

Then those those damned stablehands started moving about.

He hadn’t wanted them hearing Anna’s voice and coming to investigate.

So he’d shut her up the quickest way he knew, with his hand sealed over her lips.

Big mistake. Huge. The moment he touched her, his self control hinged on the head of a pin.

He’d still wanted answers, but he needed his hands on her, his mouth on hers, her body under his, none of which could happen, ever again.

Right.

Come morning, after a good night’s sleep, he’d have himself in hand. But tonight, Christ, knowing she was just down the hall might kill him.

Frenetic knocking sounded on his door.

Perspiration blooming over his body, he crossed the cold wooden floor on stockinged feet and swung the door open.

He found the once cheerful inn keeper, now wearing a harried expression.

“Yes?”

“Mr. Thurgood, sir, there’s a might problem.”

“What sort of problem?”

She gave him a pained smile. “Y’see, the weather’s bad, like I told ya. ”

Like he could hear with his own ears. Wind rattled the window panes and howled down the chimney chute as if mother nature sought to relocate the entire building. “So you did.”

“The thing is, I’ve a lord, what’s arrived. Claims he’s a baron.”

The hair on Caden’s nape prickled. But, really, what were the chances that particular baron had arrived to this particular inn, tonight? “And?”

“He’s in need of a room and is in a fine fettle at the thought of bedding down in the barn. Sir, what I’m trying to say—ask—is would you mind overly sharing with yer sister. I know it’s a tad inconvenient—”

“—Fine.” A hot rush of anticipation filled him even as he cursed himself for a fool.

She sent him a gap-toothed grin. “I knew you t’be the agreeable sort. If you wouldn’t mind gatherin’ your things? I’d…er…move yer sister, ‘xceptin' she’s in the middle of her bath.”

“I see.” He swallowed. “I won’t be a moment.”

Caden approached Anna’s door at the same instant a serving lad arrived with their meals.

He waved the lad off and grasped the rolling cart laden with two covered dishes, a carafe of ruby colored wine, and two crystal goblets.

He waited for the servant to reach the back stairwell, then rapped his knuckles twice on the door before inserting the key into the lock.

Steam and fragrant oil a-la-Anna greeted him upon opening the door. Next came the sound of humming and splashing, as if she hadn’t heard the knock. She’d turned down the wall lamps, and the only illumination came from the glowing hearth.

He drank in the sight of her silhouette, unable to move a muscle.

Something—a draft from the open door?—alerted her. Her humming ceased and water sloshed as she dunked herself to the neck. She twisted ‘round to gape at him .

“Caden, what are you doing here?” she squeaked.

He pushed the meal cart into the room, deposited his trunk and coat inside, and closed the door with a kick of his boot, helpless to staunch the smile curving his lips.

She stared at him, cheeks glistening, her dark, wet hair fanning over the water behind her like a sea nymph’s.

Everything in him wanted to peel out of his clothes and climb into the fragrant bath with her. His smile faded as he imagined the feel of her. Skin slick and warm, every curve and hollow bared to his touch. His cock went ramrod hard and he thanked the stars she’d turned down the lamps.

“Well?” Water splashed as her hands emerged, spreading wide.

“The arrival of another patron forced the innkeeper to get creative in her chamber designations.”

Her fine brows puckered and the water rippled around her shoulders. “Meaning?”

“There’s one room to be had. We’re sharing.”

“That’s hardly proper.”

“My dear sister, I think we can manage for one night.” He sounded as if he meant it. Impressive. “You don’t mind if I eat? I’m starved.”

She humphed and turned her back on him with dramatic zeal.

He rolled the cart toward the chair near the window. It was uncomfortably cool on this side of the room, but it put him as far from Anna as possible. He still had an unobstructed view of her in that damn tub.

She shifted again, keeping her back to him, and sat up taller in the tub.

She twined her hair on the top of her head, exposing the graceful column of her neck.

Her skin glowed in the firelight. Rivulets of water streamed down her nape and the center of her back, and, he could only imagine, over her breasts .

He tore his gaze off her and lifted one dish cover to reveal still steaming beef stew, crusty bread, and a chunk of hard cheese.

The meal didn’t look half bad. He pulled the stopper from the carafe and splashed some wine into one of the goblets.

He sipped. Forked up a bite.

Heard more splashing. Breathed in more of Anna’s elegant scent.

He’d thought it fresh by the window? The room was too bloody warm by half. With one crook of his finger he unknotted his cravat and whipped it across the room to land near the door.

“What was that?” she demanded.

“I’m sure I have no idea.” He ripped off a piece of bread and swiped up stew. “You might as well tell me your story tonight since we’re both here. In this room. Together.”

His gaze found its way back to her. He shoved the stew-sopped bread into his mouth.

She glanced over her shoulder at him. “You sound very strange.”

“It’s been a very strange night.”

She was quiet a long minute. “You mentioned a family emergency called you away from the Fenton’s party?”

“The earl’s taken ill.”

“I’m so sorry to hear that. Nothing serious, I hope?”

He growled in frustration. “I don’t know. Your story?”

She scrunched low in the water and shimmied ‘round to face him. “I’m not sure where to start.”

“That’s easy. Start at the beginning.”

** *

Anna frowned and considered where the beginning of her tale might be. The arrival of Angelique into her life seemed as good a place as any.

“After several years as a widower, Father remarried an apothecary whose shop he frequented. Her name is Angelique LeClare. A striking woman, tall, dark haired. He took a fancy to her on sight. I thought it a good thing. He’d mourned mother a long while.”

“Fair enough.”

“Angelique began to personally deliver the herbs and powders father requested. A particular friendship developed between them. An engagement ensued, and, soon after, a wedding.”

“How did you feel about them marrying?”

She gave a one-shoulder shrug and suppressed a shiver.

The bath water had gone tepid. Cold seeped into her bones with each passing minute.

Eventually she’d have to get out. Having never found herself in such a situation—naked, in a tub, in the company of a man—she wasn’t exactly sure how to broach the subject. Best to stay submerged a bit longer.

“He’d been terribly forlorn since mother’s death. He was utterly devoted to her. Mother would not have had it any other way.” She chuckled, remembering how her father had doted on her mother who always seemed to take his adoration as her due.

“Explains a few things,” Caden muttered.

“Beg pardon?”

He raised his brows and sent her a guileless grin. “Nothing important. Go on.”

She sniffed, and continued. “Angelique’s presence seemed to lighten his spirits. It wasn’t as if she tried to parent me. I was twenty when they wed, after all. My life went on as usual, at first.

“Then, for some reason, she let our housekeeper go. She claimed she wanted to see to the cooking and cleaning, only… most of the time, those duties fell to me. Especially when, after a nearly year of marriage, my father took ill.”

“How do you mean?”

“He became distracted. Confused. Clumsy. It soon became evident he had developed an ailment, but I’d never seen anything like it.

Angelique claimed to have knowledge of it, and assumed his care.

Nevertheless, his condition declined rapidly.

He went from virile, to bed-ridden in a matter of months. One day, he simply didn’t wake up.

“It all happened so fast. I hadn’t considered what would befall us after his death.

Certainly we’d never been poor, and I assumed he would have seen to me in his will.

But…” She shook her head. “After meeting with father’s solicitor, Angelique sat me down and informed me we were penniless.

She said my mother’s jewels had been sold off to pay father’s debts.

I hadn’t known he had any significant debts. ”

Caden leaned forward in his chair, gaze intent. “I’m confused. You told me your husband had left you penniless after stealing your inheritance, or something to that effect. Now you’re saying you had no inheritance to speak of.”

“If you’ll let me finish? You’re jumping ahead. And, Caden?”