Bridget reached out to the table and nervously tapped her fingertips against the smooth, worn wood.
“Now that you are the Duke, though?” she asked softly.
“Now that I am the Duke, it is a duty I will be required to fill,” Adrian finished for her in a matter-of-fact tone. “AfterI find who murdered my brother.”
Bridget paused a moment, taking in the deep sense of justice Adrian felt for finding his brother’s murderer.
“After you have accomplished your task and given yourself time to mourn, do you still believe you could find the… what did you call her? The right lady?” she asked.
Pain flashed through Adrian’s piercing blue eyes, so intensely that Bridget had to glance toward the flames.
“I am not sure I will ever be finished with mourning my brother,” he answered quietly. “His presence was… well… it took up so much space, and I am not sure I will ever be able to fill it.”
Adrian cleared his throat, and though she did not know why, Bridget felt her own throat burn with the need to let out a sob.
“Here we are,” the innkeeper’s deep baritone sang, interrupting the moment.
Bridget, only then realizing just how intently she was watching Adrian as he spoke, blinked several times as the innkeeper plopped a tray between them. She blushed deeply as she glanced around at her settings. How had she forgotten that they were not alone?
“Some nice hot stew and warmed wine for the lady,” the innkeeper said, setting her portion down in front of her. “And a whiskey and stew for the lord. Can I get ye anything else?”
“No,” Bridget said quietly, picking up her spoon. She dipped it into the steaming bowl and ladled some of the thick brown broth. She brought it to her lips to blow on it, but paused as she saw the innkeeper giving her that same hungry stare as the others had.
Yet before the earlier grip of discomfort took hold of her stomach, the innkeeper was pushed backward, and Adrian’s arm was suddenly solid and warm around her shoulders.
“I believe the only other thing we require from you is that room you and I spoke of,” Adrian stated, his tone sharp.
The innkeeper cleared his throat, looking flustered.
“Right. Well, I checked with the missus, and we have two rooms available,” the man said, daring a quick glance back to Bridget.“Would ye like them both?”
Bridget parted her lips, about to say yes, when Adrian answered.
“A single room is fine,” he said in that same sharp tone as he fished a few coins from his pocket and slammed them onto the table. “And tell your missus to finish it promptly. We wish to retire as soon as we are finished with our meal.”
Heat bloomed in Bridget’s cheeks as the innkeeper murmured his agreement and swept the coins into his hand. She waited until he ambled away before she leaned toward Adrian and whispered, “What did you tell him that for? We cannot possibly share a room. Ineedmy own room! I am a married lady!”
“You may be such,” Adrian stated in the same sharp tone that he used with the innkeeper. “But after the way he and every other man in here has looked at you? I am not letting you out of my sight for a second.”
“But what of my reputation!” Bridget whispered, horrified by the idea.
“Your safety is more important than your reputation at the moment, my lady,” Adrian stated. “Now eat your stew so that we can get out of here.”
He said so in such a tone that Bridget suddenly had no wish to argue, and without another word, she picked up her spoon and began to eat her stew.
Chapter 14
“This is so very improper,” Bridget said for the hundredth time.
Adrian watched from a chair, amused, as she continued to pace the floor before the fireplace. She had ceased her complaints about the shared room while they had been downstairs, but her worry had renewed once they had been shown their room. Adrian’s attitude, as well, had shifted.
Thanks to the bottle of whiskey he had purchased and sipped from, he had shed the heavy mantle that burdened him when discussing Evander’s death. He was nowhere near foxed, but he had found a space where everything had begun to feel a little amusing.
“What is so very improper about it?” Adrian asked, pouring himself another tipple of whiskey.
Bridget finally paused in her pacing, and he could not help but laugh as she glared at him.
“You know good and well why this is improper!” she exclaimed.
