Having his assistance was becoming far too familiar.
“Here are your keys, ahem, Mr. Bateman. Rooms seven and eight.” Mr. Daniels handed them down from the driver’s box. “I’ll put the horses up and be prepared to depart early tomorrow.” His attitude had altered considerably. He seemed to be all yes sir, and no sir, whereas before he’d literally rolled his eyes at them.
Perhaps that was what the money had purchased.
She didn’t want to think about it. Although she’d slept through most of the morning’s drive, she wanted nothing more than to lock herself away in a private chamber for a few hours and settle her wayward heart.
“Do you need either of your trunks?” Mr. Bateman held a hand up to halt Mr. Daniels departure.
Smoke from the campfire had permeated almost everything inside of them. Later she would unpack the contents and do her best to wash away the bitter odor… as well as her bittersweet memories. Nothing she needed now.
She had her cotton night rail, of course, and a day dress that she could brush out in her small valise.
“I’m fine.” She held up her small suitcase, which he insisted on taking from her so that she could manage Mr. Dog. The dog’s legs were so short that it was easier to simply carry him most of the time.
Mr. Bateman led her inside and upstairs and after inspecting both rooms, insisted she take the room facing the back of the inn, where it would be quieter overnight. It was also the larger of the two. After he left her and Mr. Dog alone, reminding her to lock the door after he closed it, she threw herself onto the bed and stared at the ceiling.
His eyes had been begging with her to understand all the things he couldn’t say out loud.
As well as those that he could.
I want… what I can’t have. But even more than that, I do not want to hurt you.
Had he been going to say that he wantedher? After enduring Mr. Bloomington through that first year of her marriage, Aubrey had not considered that she would ever want any man in that way. Knowing Mr. Bateman changed all of that. All sorts of new possibilities had entered her mind since she’d kissed him.
She rolled over, pressing her face into the bedding, and groaned.
She was certain he wanted to make love to her. It was possible, even, that he loved her. So why did he keep pushing her away?
Mrs. Tuttle had hinted to Aubrey a few years that after her husband died she’d taken a lover for a brief period of time. The idea of having relations with a man, however, without it being absolutely necessary, had baffled Aubrey.
But she quite understood now.
Before she could analyze this new…craving too closely, a knock sounded at her door.
“Are you hungryPrincesse?” His voice rang out from the hallway.
She leapt up, smoothed her dress and opened the door. Ridiculous of her to feel excited to see him again. They’d only parted a few moments ago.
The look on his face was a sheepish one. “I had just stepped into my chamber when I realized I hadn’t fed you today.”
“You needn’t feed me. Besides, I haven’t cleaned up yet.” Except her stomach chose that moment to betray her with an unmistakable rumble.
Which turned his sheepish look into a wide grin. “Why don’t I take Mr. Dog here outside to do his business, make arrangements for a private dining room, and return for you in half an hour. Will that allow you adequate time?”
Mr. Dog had apparently taken to his non-name already, because upon hearing it, he began trotting in tight little circles of excitement at Mr. Bateman’s feet.
She ought to become accustom to taking responsibility for such arrangements herself. She should order a meal upstairs and take it, alone, in the privacy of her chamber. She ought to wean herself from his company.
“That sounds marvelous,” she answered instead, grinning back at him foolishly. And unwilling to question her lack of restraint with this man, she slipped Mr. Dog’s leading string over his head and promised to be ready when they returned. After the door closed behind him, she wiped the wrinkles out of her gown, washed her face and brushed out her hair before knotting it again. She would not berate herself tonight. There would be plenty of time to do that later.
For now, she would be with him… She would simply be.
In a day or so, she’d say goodbye to him forever and have no choice but to accustom herself to life without him—without his masculine presence and exasperating sense of humor.
By the time thirty minutes passed she looked less like a woman who had slept in the wilderness and more herself: a respectable widow.
Surely, he should have returned by now? Already, the light from the window had dimmed, as the sun had nearly set. Was she mistaken to await him here? Perhaps he’d intended they should meet downstairs. But no, he must first return Mr. Dog to her chamber.
