“That’s enough, old chap.”
Her heart stuttered at the sound of Will’s voice, so solid, confident, and calming.
But Danny was determined. “You’re my ale, my pie, my fish and chips, my darling love, I’m at your fingertips!”
Adelaide pressed her lips together to stifle her laughter.
“She’s not your lady,” Will grumbled, the tense undercurrent making her shudder with unexpected pleasure.
“Are you trying to steal my Bernice from me? I’ll flatten ye—” Danny’s threat would have been more impressive had he not paused to belch again.
“Walk away.”
“I can’t walk away. I’m inlove!” Danny bellowed, and Adelaide had enough.
She pulled back the latch and swung open the door, and Danny’s jaw dropped.
“Cor,” he breathed. “You’re not Bernice.”
Will scrubbed his hand down his face. “That’s what I’ve been saying.”
Danny turned to Will. “She’s yours?”
She could only now appreciate Will’s appearance. He must have rushed from his room at the disturbance, as his hair stood up in sable disarray. His chest—good lord, thatchest—was bare, covered by dark curls between his pectorals and leading down to his partially buttoned trousers. He looked deliciously debauched, like he’d left his lover’s bed to stand at her doorstep.
But he was assessing her in return, and Adelaide felt his gaze like a physical touch, the slow perusal of her body that made her skin prickle with awareness, her nipples tightening to hard peaks under the thin linen of her chemise.
“Aye,” Will growled, the rumble sending sparks of desire dazzling through her. “She’s mine.”
Danny whistled and clapped Will on the shoulder. Or at least, he attempted to, but only grazed Will’s bicep. “Well done, man. Well—”
Will’s glare hit Danny with enough force to make his jaw snap shut, and the man nodded once before retreating down the stairs. Then Will turned his focused attention on her. “Christ, Adelaide. I told you not to open the door!”
Her lips parted. “But I knew it was you!”
“It could have been anyone. That man—”
“Danny,” she interrupted. “We weren’t properly introduced, but—”
He stepped closer, into her space, and she could see the flare of his nostrils, the rapid rise and fall of his bare chest. “He might have hurt you.”
The panic in his eyes darkened as he took her in, assessed her as though looking for injury. Her cheeks heated as she realized she was practically naked. They both were, and only their collective willpower kept them apart—
His attention broke away from her to survey the room. “What happened in here? Were you robbed?”
She flushed and looked around from his perspective. The contents of her trunk spilled over the side as though desperate for escape. One stocking hung over the chair, the other tossed on the floor next to her discarded skirt and shirtwaist. Her corset dangled from the post of her bed, and she grabbed at it, stuffing it under her blanket. “No, I—it looks messy, I know, but I could find anything if you asked. My bloomers, for example, are right here!” She dug a hand into the cavern of her trunk and withdrew her lacy undergarments with a flourish.
Whatever pride she had in her accomplishment dissipated with his aghast expression. “You can’t sleep alone in here.”
“No,” she agreed. “I’ll clean up a bit—”
“It’s not the mess. I don’t trust this door, or those louts downstairs.” He heaved a sigh. “I’ll get my bedroll and bag. Don’t let anyone in.”
A giddy thrill raced over her skin, and she couldn’t fight her smile. Her lips had gone rogue. “Except you.”
He hesitated in the doorframe. “Except me.”
“Perhaps we should establish some sort of signal, so I’m sure it’s you and not Danny. An elaborate series of knocks, or a bird call, or—”
