“If I hope to protect my reputation, I ought not share a bedchamber with you.”
“Don’t be an idiot, my love. It will be no more scandalous than sharing a barn loft or a bed of leaves in the woods. And you are shivering so hard, your teeth are clacking.”
That much was true, Maura acknowledged as another tremor shook her.
Upstairs, the innkeeper shepherded them into a small bedchamber that overlooked the stableyard. A fire was laid in the hearth but not lit—a situation the innkeeper quickly remedied before bowing himself out with the promise of a tub of hot water and a good dinner to follow.
Alone, Beaufort set Maura on her feet. When he started to remove her cloak, though, she tensed. “I can undress myself, thank you.”
“Never fear that I mean to ravish you, vixen,” he admonished, his hands still on the garment. “I am hardly in the mood for lovemaking, being cold and hungry myself, and you look like a drowned rat. None of which is conducive to passion.”
The gleam of humor in his eyes reassured her enough that she relinquished her cloak and watched as he hung it on a wall peg to dry. Then he surprised her by striding to the door.
“I will leave you to undress and bathe in privacy,” he informed her. “Once you strip off your wet clothes, wrap yourself in a blanket and go sit by the fire. I’ll check on the tub and hot water, and I’ll try to scrounge up some dry clothing for us both.”
Observing his own drenched state, Maura was suddenly struck by another wave of guilt. “You should be the one to stay. You are soaked to the skin yourself.”
“To quote your own words, I will survive. I spied a fire in the taproom where I can warm myself. And I can visit the privy outside and leave the chamberpot here to you. You cannot be seen in public, remember?”
She hesitated to accept his generous offer. “It doesn’t seem fair that you should have to make any more sacrifices for my sake.”
Beaufort flashed her a grin. “I am willing to act as your prince just this once, Cinderella. Now, buck up. The situation is not as bleak as it seems.”
He must have seen her despair, Maura realized, judging by the sudden gentleness in his eyes. Feeling another swell of gratitude, she murmured as he turned again to go, “Lord Beaufort?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you,” she said simply.
That irresistibly charming smile appeared again before he let himself from the room.
Alone, Maura shed her wet garments and wrapped a blanket around her body, then went to sit before the now-crackling hearth fire. It was a measure of how much she had come to trust Beaufort that she was calmly waiting for her bath to be delivered.
Amazing, Maura thought, shaking her head in awe and bewilderment. It was even more remarkable that she would permit him to act as her prince, since she rarely leaned on anyone.
No doubt the growing intimacy between them had disastrously weakened her defenses. And now she faced a fresh dilemma. Being trapped in a bedchamber with Beaufort for an entire night would sorely test her willpower.
For a moment her mind returned to the hayloft that morning … to the memory of his heart-stirring caresses, the tantalizing feel of his kisses on her bare skin.
She had to fight his beguiling effect on her, Maura knew. Even though he’d said the choice to become lovers was solely hers, she wasn’t certain she could resist her desire for him much longer.
Ash had his own reasons for leaving Maura alone just then. The first was to take himself away from temptation. If he wanted to have a prayer of controlling his lust, he couldn’t remain in the same room with her while she bathed.
Just the thought of seeing her luscious body naked had the power to arouse him. He’d lied when he’d assured Maura of her unappealing appearance. She seemed to have no idea how exquisitely beautiful she was, and even wet and bedraggled, she could make his body yearn.
At the same time, her forlorn air had only heightened his protective instincts. He wanted nothing more than to make all her troubles magically disappear and then spend the rest of the day and night warming her chilled flesh and showing her just how much he desired her.
He couldn’t perform magic, Ash reasoned, but he could help Maura vanquish her troubles if she would only let him.
He wasn’t about to tell her his additional reason for wanting privacy for himself, though. Her gratitude would be short-lived if she had even an inkling of the betrayal he was planning.
Upon making his way downstairs, Ash sought out the innkeeper and requested changes of clothing for himself and his “wife,” as well as paper, pen, and ink. Then he offered to pay extremely well for a messenger to ride to London immediately with two letters.
When his host readily agreed, Ash used the innkeeper’s own rooms to quickly don dry clothes and then sat down before a warm fire to compose a note to Katharine—saying that he was taking good care of her friend and not to worry about them, but including some specific instructions for his coachman and
two of his grooms.
It took him three times as long to pen a more complex missive to Bow Street. The Bow Street Runners were a private police force, and Ash intended to hire the elite company of thief-takers for his own purposes. In fact, it wouldn’t surprise him if Deering had already engaged the Runners to search for Maura and her stallion.