That familiar, mulish glare had relief coursing through him. An uncertain, nervous, and most importantly sad Seraphina he did not know how to handle. But here was proof she was as ready to go to battle as she had ever been.It righted his off-kilter world. Or, at least, made it a bit more level.
“I dinnae see why I need to carefully consider anything,” he replied offhandedly. “I’ve lived the majority of my life being led by my instincts, and it has rarely let me down. In fact, it has led me to becoming a verra wealthy man. Why should now be any different?”
Her scowl deepened. “It is a rash way to live. One should be methodical and precise, looking at each option carefully before committing.”
He grinned, unable to do anything but, in the face of the utter absurdity of her argument. “Seraphina, are you seriously attempting to dissuade me from divorcing you?”
She stared at him mutely for a moment, all emotion vanishing from her face at his question, like a slate wiped clean. Then the mulish expression was back in place. Not that he had expected her to let down her guard and laugh. No, that would not have been his Seraphina at all.
He paused.His Seraphinaagain? Oh, no, there would be no thinking like that. No matter how veryrightthose two words sounded…
“I believe,” she said slowly, blessedly breaking him from his wholly foolish musings about laying claim to Seraphina in any capacity, “that as we have decided the quest for a divorce shall continue, there is nothing further to say on the matter. Now, if you will excuse me,” she continued, reaching for the small travel desk she had brought with her, “I have work to do.” And with that, she lowered her head, effectively ending their conversation. And Iain did not know whether to be grateful for it or not.
By the time they reached Morpeth, the stop for their third night on the road north, Seraphina had written what felt to be reams of pages. Though whether those pages had anything on them that was fit to be printed was another matter entirely.
She flexed her hand several times, wincing as the muscles refused to completely extend, locked in rebellion for the hours of punishing work she had forced them to do. Several of the fingers were stained with ink, and she rubbed at them as she bleakly considered the mess of pages piled on the seat beside her. Somehow her heroine had found herself locked in a room and in a very compromising position with the mysterious groom, who had reappeared after so long being gone. Here was the bit where she had found herself in bed with him, there the two pages she’d had to cross out when things had gone a bit too far. Her cheeks burned when she recalled just where her imagination had taken her after their stop in Newcastle, when the sight of Iain, looking like a Scottish warrior of old against the ancient stone castle that had given the city its name, had done things to her insides she had not been able to control. Even now, exhausted and sore in every muscle of her body, she felt the stirrings of heat between her legs at the remembrance of it.
Which was ridiculous. She was a modern, independent woman. She was not one to swoon at the sight of a powerful, confident man. In fact, she had no need of a man at all for even the most basic human requirements, much less for those that were decidedly private in nature. God knew she had been taking care of her own desires for years and had never felt any lack in the act.
Iain shifted in his seat, and she realized it would not take much for him to crane his neck and read those incrediblydetailed passages. Blanching, she hurriedly gathered them up, stuffing them in the small writing desk with more force than necessary. When she chanced a glance up at him, he was watching her with hooded eyes.
She cleared her throat. “Shall we secure our rooms for the night?”
“Aye,” he said, his voice a deep rumble she felt clear to her toes.
The inn was busy and cheerful, the innkeeper even more so as she bounced up to them. “Good evening,” she said with a wide smile, pushing a stray lock of straw-colored hair from her eyes. “Are you here for the wedding?”
“Is that what all the fuss is for, then?” Iain asked. “Nae, my wife and I are merely passing through and require a pair of rooms for the night.”
Wife.There was that word again. She frowned, shifting Phineas’s cage more firmly in her arms. Though she must be getting used to him using it, for it didn’t annoy her nearly as much as it had.
“Oh, I’m terribly sorry, but I’m afraid we’re nearly full up and haven’t a pair of rooms,” the innkeeper said, her satisfied tone belying her words. “We do, however, have one room left, spacious accommodations with a splendid view of the river. I’m certain you and your lovely wife would find it more than satisfactory for the night.”
Seraphina froze. A single room? To share? Immediately her thoughts went to just that morning and waking in Iain’s arms half-clothed. He must have been recalling that very scene as well if the sudden flush staining his cheeks was any indication. Which affected her in places she would rather not think of just then, considering they were standing in the main room of a bustling inn surrounded by strangers.
“Mayhap,” he mumbled to her, “we should look for another inn.”
“Oh, you won’t find another inn with two rooms available,” the innkeeper said with a smile, ignoring the fact that Iain had not been speaking to her to begin with. “In fact, we’re lucky we have even the one. All of Newcastle is fairly bursting with revelers for the wedding tomorrow. It is Sir Robert Henry’s eldest son, you know,” she said in an aside to Seraphina, “and they are throwing quite the to-do.”
The woman could, of course, be lying through her teeth in an attempt to rent them her last room. But taking a look about at the other patrons, all of whom were unusually cheerful, each seeming to know the other, and Seraphina knew with a sinking heart that the woman was telling the truth. Damn it all to hell.
And when her gaze snagged on another carriage entering the yard, obviously just arriving and no doubt carrying someone else in need of a place to stay for the night, Seraphina reacted without thinking.
“We’ll take the room,” she blurted.
“Wonderful,” the innkeeper exclaimed, beaming at them.
Ignoring Iain’s horrified look—really, did he think she wanted to share a room with him?—Seraphina followed the innkeeper, determined to get through this night even if it killed her.
Thespacious accommodations with a splendid view of the river, however, proved to be anything but.
Seraphina surveyed the room as the innkeeper, havingtaken Iain’s instructions to bring up a good quantity of food, took her leave and closed the door behind her, the unoiled hinges making an ungodly noise in the small space. Ah, yes, small, for that was the only word to describe it. Even with just a bed—which wasn’t overlarge by any description—and a table with two chairs, it felt cramped, unable to hold a bit more furniture, much less two taller-than-average people and a parrot. The promisedsplendid viewmight have helped relieve some of the cloying closeness of the space—except for the fact that the window was a single, narrow thing, and the only view of the river it could claim was if a person angled themselves far to one side and used a hefty dose of imagination.
“Damn it all to hell,” she muttered.
“Well, this is a fine mess,” Iain grumbled as he tossed his bag in the corner. “Why did you nae allow me to go searching for other accommodations? I’m certain I could have found something for us.”
She glared at him, placing Phineas’s cage on the floor and opening the door. Phineas scrambled out, climbing up her arm to her shoulder with alacrity, as if he could not get out of the tiny space fast enough.
