Theo leaned back in his seat again, returning to briskness. “Now, finish your pie and drink your ale. We need to get going as soon as we can.”
Unfortunately, the final leg of their journey that day took a great deal longer than expected, thanks to a heavy downpour that turned the roads into a sea of mud. It ought to have taken less than two hours to reach the inn Theo had in mind, but in the end, it took them more than twice that time. When their exhausted mounts finally delivered them, wet and shivering, to the courtyard of the inn, it was late and George was dreaming of a hot bath, a large dinner and a soft bed.
His dreams were not about to come true.
“I’m sorry, gentlemen,” the innkeeper said, wringing his hands in apology. “Every bedchamber is taken tonight. All I can offer you is the attic to share. And dinnertime’s over, but I can send a girl up with bread and cheese and as much wine as you’d like.”
Theo turned to George with a crestfallen look. “You were right,” he said regretfully, when the innkeeper hurried off to fetch them some blankets. “We should have stayed at the last place. You could have had your roast beef, a hot bath, and a proper bed. I’m sorry, George.”
Despite being exceedingly bedraggled, and cold to the bone, George found himself smiling at this. “Actually, bread and cheese sounds quite appetising right now. But then, I could cheerfully eat a toad at this point.”
Theo laughed, his expression relieved. “Just for that, you can have my cheese too.”
“I wouldn’t dream of stealing your cheese,” George said. “But you can hang my wet clothes up for me if you want to do penance. I’m sodden.”
“That, I can do,” Theo said, smiling crookedly.
His smile did something to George, tugging at him in some difficult-to-name way that had him rubbing awkwardly at the back of his neck and pretending interest in his surroundings.
“This way, gentlemen,” the innkeeper said a few moments later. He’d returned and was clutching a pile of blankets to his chest with one hand, while holding his lantern aloft with the other. Lifting their damp saddlebags, they followed him down the corridor and up several twisting flights of stairs, till they reached a solid wooden door. Setting down the lantern, the innkeeper pulled out the ring of keys at his waist and opened the heavy door.
“Here we are,” he said, gesturing them to precede him into the attic.
George stepped inside, looking about curiously. It wasn’t as bad as he’d feared. It was clean, at least, with a large straw pallet on the floor that looked reasonably comfortable, if not quite the thick feather mattress George had been dreaming of during the last miserable hour of their gruelling ride. The ceiling was low and slanted on either side with broad oak beams crossing the space between. Even the innkeeper, who was shorter than either George or Theo, had to stoop a little.
“I’ll leave you this,” the innkeeper said, placing his lantern on the sill of the sole, small window, before depositing the pile of blankets he’d brought on the straw pallet.
“I’ll send one of the maids up with food and wine,” the innkeeper said as he walked to the door. "I’m sorry we can’t manage a proper bath at this time of night, but the boy will bring you a bucket of water so you can get a wash at least.”
They thanked him, and he left, closing the heavy door behind him.
The attic should have felt more spacious after he was gone, but if anything, it felt smaller. Airless somehow. George cleared his throat and turned away from Theo, his gaze landing on the straw pallet on the floor.
It hit him then—they were sharing that pallet tonight, just the two of them. It was big enough to accommodate three grown men at a pinch, yet somehow, it was impossibly small. Just the thought of sharing it with Theo made his stomach clench with something that might have been dread or desire. Maybe both.
“You’re soaked,” Theo said quietly. “You should get your clothes off if you don’t want to catch a chill.”
“I could say the same to you,” George replied, hating the betrayingly hoarse note in his voice.
“You could,” Theo agreed. “I suppose we should keep some clothes on till the maid’s been. But we could at least get our coats and boots off in the meantime. I don’t know about you, but my feet are probably like prunes by now.”
George nodded. Even with his many-caped greatcoat taking the brunt of the rain, his clothes were far from dry. He unbuttoned the coat and began to shoulder it off.
“Give that to me,” Theo said, once he’d removed it. Taking the coat out of George’s hands, he draped it over one of the beams.
It was while George was unbuttoning his waistcoat that the first knock at the door came. A lad of about fourteen with a bucket of steaming water, a cake of soap, and a wad of linen cloths. Theo gave him a coin for his trouble. No sooner had he disappeared than a maid arrived with their food. The fare was better than George had expected—a sizeable wedge of fresh-looking cheese, a small loaf of warm bread, a dish of potted beef, and a slab of dense, brandy-scented fruitcake. And best of all, two slightly dusty bottles of wine.
“That looks good!” he said, perking up.
Theo looked amused. “We’ll wash before we eat,” he said and his firm tone triggered an odd, squirming pleasure in George’s belly. He turned away in case Theo could read his reaction, and resumed unbuttoning his waistcoat.
Once he was down to his shirt and drawers, he reached for one of the linen cloths the boy had brought with the bucket, dipping it into the warm water before scrubbing his face and neck with it.
It really was remarkable how much mud he’d got on himself during that last, long, miserable leg of their ride. The cloth was filthy once he was finished scrubbing. When he turned his head to sniff under his arms, he wrinkled his nose. Reaching for the hem of his shirt, he pulled it over his head and tossed it aside, dipping another cloth in the water and running it over his chest and under his arms.
When he raised his head, it was to find Theo staring at him. For a moment, their gazes tangled, the wet cloth in George’s hand dripping water onto the floor, and then Theo jerkily tore his gaze away, turning to grab one of the cloths for himself. Keeping his back to George, he quickly pulled off his own shirt and began to wash himself.
George stared, dry-mouthed, at Theo’s broad back and shoulders, the play of his dense muscles as he moved. Not for the first time, he found himself wondering why he’d been so insistent that they not repeat what they’d done at Redford’s. At this moment, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more, or any reason why he shouldn’t have it. And when Theo glanced over his shoulder and their gazes briefly locked, George felt sure that he must feel the same way. In that brief, breath-stealing moment, Theo’s gaze was hot with desire, and though he quickly turned away again, George had seen him. And now he craved Theo’s attention again, wanted to be the sole subject of that intense, devouring regard.
