Page 20 of The Viscount Needs a Wife (All for Love #2)

“Swinford.” He dismounted and drew her down into his arms and set her gently on her feet.

She clutched at his arm to steady herself.

I am right—she is completely done in, and cold to the bone.

“Here, hold onto something while I get our bags,” he said, putting her hand onto the pommel.

He unlashed both bags and turned just as a servitor appeared.

“May I help you, sir?”

“Yes, take these. I require a room for myself and my wife, a hot bath for the lady, and a meal for us both served in the room. And see that my horse is attended to.”

The man, recognizing him for quality from his speech, bowed. “At once, sir.” He indicated to the ostler to take the horse. “Come this way.”

Emrys turned his attention back to Annis. “Can you walk, or would you like me to carry you?” he asked quietly.

“I can walk,” she said faintly, grabbing his arm. Deciding that she couldn’t after all, he swept her up and carried her into the inn and up the stairs after the man with their bags.

The room he showed them to wasn’t elegant, but it was clean.

It boasted a fireplace where a fire was already lit, and there were several candles and two lamps to give them light in the gathering gloom.

There was also a large bed covered in a cozy red coverlet and piled high with pillows, a small round table with two chairs, a small two-seater couch drawn up to the fire, and a dresser with drawers, on the top of which rested a ewer and bowl.

“You shall have the bath and hot water directly, sir, and a meal soon after.” The man left, and Emrys set Miss Pringle—Annis—down on the settee and began unlacing her cloak. “Let me get this off you,” he said.

She let him, and he divested himself of his own coat as well, which was also wet, but being made of thicker material, had withstood the soaking rain better.

He turned to his pack and found the flask he carried and took that to her and offered it.

She needed something immediately to buck her up a bit.

“Here,” he said gently.

“What is it?”

“Brandy. I think you could use a little, yes?”

She took a swig and coughed. But it brought a little color to her cheeks.

A knock at the door heralded the arrival of the bath and a procession of buckets of hot water. The chambermaid left towels and a cake of hard soap.

“I’ll leave you to your bath,” he said. “Do you require help with your laces before I go?”

She shook her head.

“Lock the door behind me,” he said and left to go and check on his horse. He stayed away for half an hour, and judging that was long enough, he returned to the room, knocking for readmittance. “It’s me.”

After a few moments, she unlocked the door and let him in. She had changed into a robe over a nightgown and her hair was down in a plait—the same as when she sat vigil with him over Ewen that night. “They just brought the meal,” she said, indicating the dishes and plates on the table.

He joined her at the table, conscious of the constraint between them, but unsure how to bridge it.

She seemed disinclined to talk. He wasn’t sure if that was from fatigue or some other cause.

In either case, he was ravenous and fell to with enthusiasm.

The meal was plain but good fare. A thick meaty stew, fresh bread and butter, with cheese and fruit.

She ate quickly, too, as if half starved, and he wondered when she had last eaten.

A red wine of reasonable quality accompanied the meal, and she drank the glass he poured for her as quickly as she had eaten the meal.

He topped up both their glasses and sat back in his chair, regarding her over his glass.

She toyed with hers but stared at the fire as if it were the most fascinating thing in the room.

“Were you going to Bath?” he asked gently.

She shook her head.

“Your aunt isn’t dying?”

“She’s already dead,” she said flatly.

“Did you leave because of me?”

“In a manner of speaking,” she said, sipping her wine and transferring her gaze to the glass, twisting it about as if watching the play of light on the blood-red liquid.

He closed his eyes a moment, a lance of pain in his chest. Then, leaning forward, he took her hand. “I never meant to drive you from your home. If my proposal was that abhorrent to you—”

“No!” She looked at him then, her eyes full of some kind of deep sorrow he could not comprehend. “You just tempted me beyond reason!”

“I don’t think I understand, Annis. Will you please explain?” he said gently.

She looked down. “Yes, I suppose I owe you that, having put you to so much trouble as to come after me.” She drew in an unsteady breath and let it out slowly.

“I’m not sure I know where to start.” She paused as if considering.

“Do you recall when we visited Kegworth? And we took a stroll up the street? You noted that I was pale and asked me if I was well?”

He nodded. “Yes, you were as white as a sheet. I was quite concerned about you.”

She swallowed. “Yes, well, I fancied that someone was watching me. Have you ever had that feeling? A kind of prickling between the shoulder blades as if someone were staring at you very hard?”

“Yes. Not often, but I have felt it.” He leaned forward, watching her face intently. So many emotions were flitting across it, he was having trouble keeping up. Whatever was going on here had been provoked by more than his proposal.

“It turns out they were. Watching me that is. I—” She stopped, her throat working. She took another sip of wine. “When I explain, my lord, you will understand why I refused your proposal and why being here with me at this inn will be—must be—the last time you see me. Tomorrow, you must let me go.”

He opened his mouth to protest and shut it again, his mind baffled by her cryptic words. “Go on,” he said a mite grimly.

She looked down at her hands clasped tightly in her lap and took another one of those breaths. Whatever this was, it was difficult for her. He gave her his full attention.

“Seven years ago, my aunt died. On her deathbed, she gave me something—a ring.” She drew a chain from beneath her robe and showed him a plain gold ring with a flat oval top, as if it ought to have something carved into it but didn’t.

“It belonged to my father, apparently. I don’t know who he was, she didn’t tell me.

I gathered, though, that he was a member of the aristocracy.

” She swallowed, looking down at her hands.

“Up until that point I had believed myself to be the daughter of Aunt Janet’s brother and his wife Adela. Aunt Janet raised me, you see.”

“The Pringle Academy for Young Ladies in Bath.”

“Yes, that is where I grew up.”

“Go on,” he said taking another sip of the wine.

“It—it was shortly after that, that a man—I don’t know who he was—kidnapped me off the street and took me to a—a room somewhere.

I don’t know where it was, for he put a hood over my head and only removed it once we were in the room.

It was ill-lit. He was dressed all in black, and he had a mask on his face. He—he threatened me.”

Emrys started at this and opened his mouth to say something, but she went on, oblivious to his reaction, and he kept silent.

“He seemed to think I knew who my father was. When I protested that I didn’t, he refused to believe me.

He—he said that if I breathed a word to a soul, he would kill me.

” She swallowed visibly. “He said they would find my body in a ditch, and I would be so badly mutilated that no one would recognize me.”

“Oh, God!” Emrys got up and came round the table and pulled her up into his arms and held her tight. “No wonder you were frightened. And you think this man is still after you?” He buried his face in her hair, his heart thudding hard.

She nodded, her face pressed into his chest. She turned it slightly and said, “My room was ransacked two nights ago. He was looking for the ring. When he couldn’t find it, because I had it on me, he left a note and told me to meet him by the ruins last night at midnight.”

“My God, you didn’t go?”

“I did.” She swallowed.

“Why didn’t you tell me? Tell someone? The duke if you didn’t trust me?” He almost shook her with frustration at the danger she had put herself in.

“Did—did they find a—a body?” she asked shakily.

“What, at the ruins?”

“Yes. This morning, did—”

“No, why?”

“I—think I might have killed him, you see. I stabbed him under the ribs. After the first attack I learned how to defend myself so if he ever came after me again, I’d be prepared.” She babbled, her eyes wide, the pupils blown.

“There was no body reported.”

“They may not have found it yet. Who would go there to find out?” she said chewing her lip.

He cupped her face in his hands and stared into her eyes. “I cannot believe that you have killed anyone.”

She smiled, but it was awry, and her eyes for the first time showed a glimmer of tears.

“Does it matter whether I did or not? I intended to, and that is just as bad. I decided I’d had enough of constantly living in fear.

I wanted it to end. Especially after—” She stopped, closing her eyes, but the tears seeped out and rolled down her cheeks.

“Annis,” he whispered. “Don’t, sweetheart. I can’t bear it.” And he kissed her.

She pulled back. “Stop—Emrys, you can’t still want me after this.”

“Let me show you how much I want you,” he said soft and low.

“Emrys, no! I’m a murderess confessed!”

“You are no such thing. If you did kill him, which I highly doubt, it was in self-defense. In any case, as my wife you would not be prosecuted.”

“I’m not your wife.”

“You will be.” He lifted her chin up to look at him. “We are alone in a bedchamber for the night. You are entirely ruined even if I don’t lay a hand on you. I have to marry you.”

“No one here knows who we are. And I’m only the governess, Emrys. You most emphatically do not have to marry me. I’m not a lady.”

“You are to me.”

“I don’t even know who my father is!” she said helplessly.

“I don’t care.” He cleared his clogged throat. “My children love you; they need you. You make them happy. Damn it, you make me happy!”

“Emrys I—” But he cut her off with a kiss. If his words weren’t enough to convince her, he was willing to use other methods of persuasion. He lifted her up, carried her to the bed and laid her down on it.

He looked down at her expectantly, his gaze fairly burning into hers.

With every look and action he had tried to make it clear what he wanted, but he wondered if she would object.

He knew she wanted him as he wanted her, knew her objections were founded on some notion that she was damaged goods.

But he also knew he could show her how wrong she was if she’d let him.

She stared up at him a moment, then shed her robe and slid under the covers, and he set about divesting himself of his wretched clothing.