“Oh… Thank you.” She was getting some of her color back. “I feel better already.”
“Good.” He took the second pitcher and, not giving her a chance to demand anything else, he dumped it unceremoniously over her head and into the tub. This time, she emerged sputtering.
He felt marginally better that she was glaring at him again.
Chapter 7
Have a Care
Tabetha downed the remainder of the drink Stone had left behind the screen with her and, wrapped in nothing but a linen towel, glanced around.
Until that moment, she hadn’t realized that she’d lost her valise in her scuffle with Culpepper.
Blast and fiddlesticks!She stared at the gown she’d donned earlier that morning, now covered in mud, perspiration, and horse.
In a fit of frustration, she snatched the empty glass and held it around the room divider. “More please.”
Footsteps sounded and when they came to a halt, she peeked over the screen and found herself staring into Stone’s hooded indigo eyes. He flicked them away from her long enough to fill her glass.
“Hiccup.” She jumped and covered her mouth.
“Have a care. Are you all right?” His voice sounded earthy, almost hoarse.
“Thank you. Yes. I’d be better if I had a clean gown to wear though. Or anything clean for that matter.” She lifted the bedraggled garment that was her only option and frowned. He licked his lips and then backed away, ensuring her privacy again.
A chair scraped, as though he was sitting down. “There’s a mercantile across the road.” He didn’t sound very enthusiastic about it though.
“Culpepper wouldn’t look for us in a shop, would he?” She searched for the openings in the billowing fabric of her gown.
“He might.”
“It won’t take me long to find something. And you could use new clothing as well.” She ducked under the skirt and then hastily poked her head through the opening. “This gown smells like it’s been dragged through the stables.” Donning such a garment after her lovely bath was a travesty.
“Hmm…”
Tabetha shimmied as the material dropped to the floor and then took another soothing swallow of the whisky. “Archie needs something to wear too. I’m thinking something made for a baby. Or a doll.Hiccup.” She snatched the damp washcloth she’d used earlier and scrubbed it down her skirts. “It’s only fair, after all.”
“Did you forget that Archie is a cat?” He sounded as though he was eating now.
“He is anakedcat.” She sighed and then dragged her fingers through her tangled locks, almost glad she didn’t have a looking glass in which to see herself. It was doubtful she’d be pleased with her reflection. “I also need pins for my hair and a brush. And a bonnet.”
“You were nearly kidnapped today and you wish to go shopping?”
She stepped out from behind the screen just in time to see him stuff a piece of bread into his mouth. “It’s the last place he’d look for us, don’t you think?”
A little wobbly now, she steadied herself and crossed the room to pour herself another glass of whisky. If two drinks lifted her spirits a little, then one or two more ought to have her back to her normal self in no time. Or had she had three now? Her brain was having difficulty counting that high.
“Are you sure you want to risk it? If he gets a hold of you, you’ll have no choice but to marry him. He’s a duke. He can pretty much do whatever he wants.”
The reminder of the status she’d essentially thrown away was enough to have her taking another long swallow of the lovely amber liquid.
Warm spice. Heat in her veins. Why hadn’t she tried whisky before this?
She stared at the man devouring the tray of food that had been sent up. His muscles flexed beneath his shirt when he moved his arms. She glanced down at his hands—those hands that had fought off several men at once. A dazzling smile spread across her lips. “You’ll protect me. Besides, I would not consent.”
Stone stopped chewing and all but gaped at her. He blinked rapidly and then shook his head. “It wouldn’t matter.” He took another bite. “He’s a duke. An anvil priest isn’t about to go against his wishes.”
His somber expression assured her that he was telling her the truth.
