She swallowed hard.
But he had Mr. Dog with him.
That should have been comforting, a reason for him to return to her if nothing else. And yet…
The room felt smaller by the minute, pressing in on her with its silence and its emptiness. She could no longer bear it.
With only the light of the moon beyond the window, Ambrosia threw on her coat, tied the sash with more force than necessary, and strode toward the door. She paused, just briefly, recalling the innkeeper who’d spoken to her so coarsely the day before—as though being a woman, alone, invited lewd comments.
She pinched her lips together and clenched her fists.
Not tonight.
So what if she had spent most of her life in a sleepy village filled with small-minded people and a tyrannical husband? She had survived worse than a taproom full of coarse men. And tonight—tonight she was not some fragile creature to be coddled. She was a woman worried for her friend.
And for her dog.
Her chin lifted a fraction higher as she began her descent down the stairs, every creak of the old steps announcing her presence.
The taproom was full, louder than she expected. A fire crackled. A few men turned their heads as she passed, their eyes lingering. Let them look. She held her head high and kept walking.
No sign of Dash.
She crossed the room and, with her heart thumping wildly, slipped out the front door into the cool night air.
Outside, the quiet was unnerving. The garden was empty; a cloud drifted across the moon. She peered around the hedges. Nothing.
The stable was quiet as well. She paused by the open doors and called softly, “Dash? Mr. Beckman?” Utter silence. Not even the horses stirred. “Mr. Dog?” she tried, though she didn’t really expect a different response. Sure enough, no cheerful, tail-thumping reply greeted her. No impatient barks or quick little feet. Nothing.
She turned to face the tree line beyond the inn yard, the forest edging the horizon in tall, whispering giants, and shivered.
Where had he gone?
Suddenly, she was alone in the world once again.
How could he do this to her?
She returned to her chamber on unsteady legs, heart pounding in rhythm with every unanswered question. All hunger forgotten, she sank onto the edge of the bed and wrapped her arms around herself.
Was this it? Had he truly gone?
If he meant to abandon her, why not just say so? Why vanish into the night like a thief—and with her dog, no less? That hurt more than she wanted to admit. Oddly enough, she’d grown used to Mr. Dog’s warmth, his comforting snuffles.
But Dash wouldn’t do that. He wouldn’t. Not the man who’d taught her how to build a fire and spoken softly of his deep, personal regrets, little though he’d shared. Who’d told her that he could see courage and strength in her actions.
Who’d made sure she never, ever, forgot her first kiss—for better or for worse.
That man would never…
Would he?
Time passed in aching silence. The moon had risen high by now. The idea of even attempting sleep seemed laughable, but she’d stopped pacing. Stopped peeking through the window. Stopped pretending to have any control over the storm in her chest.
And then?—
A knock.
Sharp. Firm. Three taps.
