“Oh, a veritable hit.” Harry retired from the argument, mortally wounded.
After that exchange, they kept their conversation to unremarkable topics, until Willow declared herself quite replete, and finished the last of her ale.
Harry nodded, unable to stop thinking about that big comfortable bed upstairs.
She haunted him, this young woman he’d known for so long. Her laugh, her moods, her rapier-like wit, all appealed to him on a level he’d not experienced before.
He’d experienced desire, passion, arousal, and had engaged in more than his fair share of intimate encounters. But this was different. This was a want, a need, for a woman who had shown herself to be gentle and caring, but with a will of iron that matched her courage.
He’d never known anyone like her, nor could he have guessed what she would become when he’d met her in the past. Now, grown into someone who possessed just about every quality he found appealing, he was caught in a delicate dilemma.
He wanted her. There was no question in his mind that he wanted her badly; she fit in his arms, her lips… well, he could still recall their taste. And he yearned for more.
But there were so many things to consider, so many obstacles his rational brain kept raising, all of which he knew were valid and appropriate to the situation.
So he turned his mind to making a sensible plan as he pushed his chair back from the table a little and finished the last of his ale.
Somehow, he would manage to eliminate any discussion of a ‘marriage’ between them when they reached London. And he would return her to Forest Grange and her family, with nary a mention of her prevarication, but many profuse thanks for her kindness and concern for his injuries.
Nor would he say anything about kissing, or how he had been stunned by the taste of her lips, and the sensation of her body against his.
It would be simple, straightforward, and with luck, accepted as the truth. One more tale to add to those of the Trease family.
And if fortune favoured him, nobody would realise that everything he’d just decided was a complete and utter lie.
Chapter Nine
In Which our Unmarried Couple find Themselves Behaving Like a Married Couple
Both Willow and Harry were silent as they climbed the stairs. Willow couldn’t begin to guess Harry’s thoughts, but she found her own more than enough to deal with.
They were about to spend the night together. Alone. In a room with a nice bed.
Of course they’d spent plenty of time alone together in Little Witham, but the even the snug confines of a small seaside cottage could not compare to a single chamber in an inn.
He reached past her to open the door and allow her to precede him. “Oh good, the fire’s still burning.”
She nearly laughed at that. He had no idea how close to the truth that was. Her personal fire was burning very nicely indeed, although she admitted to some concern that she might come out of this adventure slightly…singed. Indeed, right at this moment, she swore she could feel the heat of his body on her back.
It didn’t get any cooler when the two of them walked into the room, and Harry closed the door behind them with a solid thunk.
Willow stared at the bed. “I will sleep in the chair.”
“Don’t be silly. I’ll take the chair. I can pull the other one close and it’ll be almost as good as a bed.” He sounded coolly confident.
She shook her head. “Your ankle won’t like it.” Turning, she touched her finger to his lips as he opened his mouth to argue with her. “Look, we’re adults, Harry. I see no reason why we can’t share the bed. I will stay on my side, and you on yours. The coverlet looks warm enough, and I don’t want to spend all night getting up to put more wood on the fire.”
He sighed. “You can trust me, you know.”
It’s not you I can’t trust, it’s myself…
The thought flashed through her mind as she turned to him. “Of course I know that. I would not have suggested we share otherwise.”
“In that case…”
Harry unfastened his jacket and tossed it onto one of the chairs, then sat on the side of the bed to remove his boots.
Willow echoed his moves on the other side, sitting and removing her shoes and stockings. Her practical gown fastened at the front, and she wore a warm chemise beneath, so she had no real concerns about slipping off the heavy fabric and sleeping in the lighter cotton.
