Page 11 of Willow (Out on a Limb #4)

In Which a Thief Interferes With the Journey to London

Willow awoke first, opening her eyes slowly, unwilling to move from the delicious warmth that seemed to surround her.

She took a few moments to enjoy it, then—as her mind rose above the tranquillity of sleep—the feeling of arms around her, legs tangled with hers, and a warm, firm body plastered against her spine made themselves known.

Heavens above. She was curled into Harry’s arms like a kitten against its mother.

And it was the most wonderfully pleasurable sensation she could imagine. As she awoke further, she realised that thought wasn’t quite true. Last night, here in this bed, she’d experienced pleasure that far surpassed anything she could have described.

Lying still, relishing the newness of her position, she tried to clear her mind and evaluate the situation.

They had to get to London as soon as they could, so making sure the carriage was ready would be the first thing for them to see to.

She had to wash and dress as best she could, as did Harry.

Breakfast? Probably just a quick bit before they left the inn. She’d have to let him pay their bill, but he’d said he had enough coin to take care of them on the journey.

All of which was practical, appropriate, and necessary.

What wasn’t any of those things was the reluctance she was experiencing, the unwillingness to move at all away from the utterly blissful sensation of a man’s body hold hers.

Never could she have thought such a thing so pleasurable. She realised she’d never actually thought about it at all. Not until Harry.

He’d fallen into her life and permanently fixed himself in her heart. Would she ever feel this way about another man? She couldn’t even imagine it.

He stirred, and she felt him waken, murmuring a little as he snuggled close. “Hello.”

“Good morning to you too,” she replied, loving the simple delight of a dawn cuddle.

“I suppose we should rise,” he said, sighing.

“If we want to get to London today, yes.” She sighed too. Then she turned her head, looked at him, and couldn’t help her laugh. “We are in quite a mess, aren’t we?”

He chuckled. “We’ll get out of it.” He glanced at the light beginning to shine through the window. “But I must get my business finished first. And that means it’s time for us to be on the road.”

To her great regret, he untangled himself, then dropped a quick kiss on her shoulder. “You are an amazing woman, Willow.”

It wasn’t quite what she wanted to hear, but she decided it would suffice for the moment, and rose, swinging her legs over the side of the bed. “Thank you,” she answered quietly. “Now go away somewhere. I must dress.”

Harry grabbed his shirt and boots. “As my lady wills,” he bowed theatrically. “I will meet you downstairs. Bring your bag. I’ll take mine.”

She nodded, and somewhat wistfully watched him vanish through the door with his clothing clasped to that rather delightful chest.

*~~*~~*

Leaving Willow in that room was one of the hardest things Harry had ever done.

She looked delightfully rumpled, warm, and relaxed, and had their situation been different, he’d have very much enjoyed staying right there with her. Playing with her, making her sob with pleasure, loving her…

He nearly tripped going down the stairs as that thought hit his mind with all the force of a landslide off the very top of a mountain.

Good Lord. He grasped the bannister firmly as the impact of what he’d just imagined rocked him back on his heels.

She’d said she loved him, and now—unexpectedly—his brain had told him that her feelings were returned.

He managed to make it down the stairs without stumbling, but it was a near thing, and he sat down hard on the bottom step to put on his boots.

But before he could do much of anything else, the innkeeper rushed into the hall.

“Oh, Mr Chalmers,” he wrung his hands. “It’s terrible, awful, that’s what it is…”

Harry frowned as Mr Marsh hurried to his side. “What is it? What’s happened?”

“Your coachman, sir.”

“What about him?”

“Set upon, sir. A dastardly attack in the darkest depths of the night…”

Blinking, Harry wondered for a moment if Marsh was a member of some local theatrical group, so dramatic was his statement, accompanied as it was by the wringing of hands.

“I’m not following you…”

“Come, come and see, sir…”

The innkeeper all but dragged him into a small room off the hall. And in there, on a chair, with a wet cloth being held to his head by Mrs Marsh, was their driver.

“Good God, man…” Harry rushed to his side. “Are you all right? What on earth happened?”

“Knocked him clean out, they did,” snarled the angry woman. “I found him on the doorstep when I went to let the cat out this morning.”

“I’m that sorry, sir,” said the injured driver.

“Stop, please. Clearly, this wasn’t your fault. Can you tell me what occurred?” He glanced at Mrs Marsh. “Is he going to be all right?”

She nodded. “Nasty bump, took a bit of skin, but it’s clean enough.” She removed the cloth. “Lucky he’s got a hard head.”

“Thank you, Ma’am,” the coachman said, then turned to Harry. “They took the carriage, sir. It’s gone. I asked Mr Marsh to check when I came around. And…it’s gone.”

Harry’s heart sank at the words and mentally he cursed long and fluently.

“I’m glad you’re not badly hurt,” he said, managing to keep the worst of his thoughts to himself.

“Who’s been hurt?” Willow came down the stairs quickly, holding the bags.

“Here now, Ma’am. Let me take them for you…” Marsh was up the steps and relieving Willow of her burden in a trice.

“Thank you,” she frowned. “Harry?”

“A problem,” he sighed. “Apparently, sometime early this morning, our coachman here was set upon and knocked unconscious, and our coach was stolen.”

Willow sucked in a breath, her gaze meeting his and reflecting his own distress. “That is quite terrible.”

“Indeed it is, Ma’am. Nothing like that has happened round here in as long as I can remember.”

“Poor man,” Willow went to the coachman. “How are you feeling?”

“Got a bit of a headache, I’ll admit, Ma’am.”

“I’m sure you do, and I am very sorry that you were injured on our account. Although who would want to take the risk of stealing a carriage, I don’t know.”

“The horses too?” Harry looked at Marsh.

“Fraid so, sir.”

He bit back the oath that trembled on the tip of his tongue. “All right. Is there anywhere around here we could rent a couple of horses, d’you think?” He paused. “Actually, I’m not sure where we are, to be honest. I left all that to you…”

The driver nodded. “As well you should, sir. I can tell you we’re near Abbington Run…”

“Ah.” Harry glanced at Willow. “I have a friend close by then.” He turned to the innkeeper. “Would you know of Sir Roger Franklin?”

“Aye, sir, that I do. Lives not three miles down the lane from here.”

“Excellent.” He looked at Willow. “Here’s my plan. I will go to Roger and borrow a horse, which will get me to town quite quickly, if he is still possessed of a very good stable.”

“I see,” she said, her voice expressionless.

“And the minute I reach town, I’ll have a carriage sent for you, my dear.”

“I see.” She said again.

He sighed. “Should I bother arguing the point?”

She shook her head. “Not unless you want to waste time and your breath, both of which would be best saved.” She turned to the Marshes. “We are very grateful for all you’ve done for us, and sorry that we brought trouble to your door.”

“Not your fault, Ma’am,” said Mrs Marsh. “And don’t you worry none about this lad. We’ll have him up and around in no time at all.”

The ‘lad’, who was at least as old as Mrs Marsh herself, shot Harry a look that clearly said “help”. However, it was of no use. “You’ll be better here, under Mrs Marsh’s care, and you know it.”

“Aye, sir,” he sighed. “I’ll try to get back down south then, shall I?”

“Or London. Whichever is most useful to you. And thank you again.”

Turning to the Marshes, Willow managed a smile. “Well, in spite of this nasty incident, I must say we spent a delightful night here, Mrs Marsh. Your accommodations are most comfortable indeed. But now we must be on our way, since we have an important meeting in London, and we still have a distance to go yet. If you would hold our bags for us until we return for them, that would be of great help.”

The Marshes agreed immediately and promised to take good care of their belongings.

Thus Willow managed to end the conversation most effectively, and get them both on the road to Abbington Run in less than the half hour Harry had estimated it would take to leave the inn. Coinage had changed hands, and they were waved on their way quite enthusiastically.

“The sun should be rising soon,” he commented as they reached the lane in the half light of dawn. “We keep straight for a mile or so, most likely, and if we can see Abbington Run at that point, we can cut through the forest and save some time.”

Willow nodded. “And your ankle? Will it hold up?”

“It’ll damn well have to,” said Harry, voice determined. “This is too important to risk delaying any longer.”

“All right then,” she replied, squaring her shoulders. “Let’s be off.”