“And may I get you another tankard, sir?”
Gray stared at his still full glass. “Not right now, thank you. But I wonder if you might have more information about the lady who just arrived.”
The innkeeper’s eyes lit up with mirth even as he feigned shock. “Ah, I see, sir. You’re not the only one who has an eye on the lady.”
Gray pursed his lips, hating the teasing tone of the man beside him. “I thought I recognized her,” he lied.
“You and every bloke in the hall,” the man laughed.
Gray scowled before he reached into his pocket and drew out a coin. He pressed it into the man’s palm. “As I said, I think I know the lady. Perhaps you could verify that for me.”
The greedy innkeeper pocketed the gold piece swiftly. “Mrs. Wilde, she told my missus,” he said, his tongue now freed by heavier pockets. “I came in late to their conversation, but it seems she’s from a very important family to the west. She was trapped on her way to their great country estate, I think.”
Mrs. Wilde. Gray smiled at the name. The lady at the door hadn’t seemed particularly wild, but then, looks could be deceiving.
“And her husband is seeing to the horses?” he pressed.
The other man laughed again. “She don’t have one,” he said. “A widow, I think.”
Beneath the table, Gray gripped his fists on his thighs and tried to ignored the aching of his cock.
“Hmm, well, I thank you for the information,” he said.
The innkeeper took the dismissal as it was intended and bowed away to the next table, leaving Gray to ponder his situation.
He scowled as he thought about the foolish thing he’d just done. Asking after a lady he had no intention of pursuing? Paying for the damned information? A foolish waste of money. Yes, she was striking, and yes, his body was reacting in ways he’d made himself forget, but he hadn’t allowed himself to be distracted by a woman for a very long time.
He certainly didn’t intend to start now.
Chapter Two
Rosalinde sat in a lumpy chair before a roaring fire, her eyes shut as Gertrude refashioned her hair. The wind had spun it up wildly, probably leading to all the stares in the hall below when she’d entered the Raven’s Wing Tavern an hour before.
“It isn’t much of a room,” her maid mumbled, pulling a pin from between her lips and sliding it through Rosalinde’s mass of curls and coils.
Rosalinde opened her eyes and looked around. Gertrude was correct in her assessment. The room was very small, with just a double bed a few feet from the fire and a tiny table beside the rickety window. The wind rattled the pane, and through the frosty glass, Rosalinde could see the outline of a swinging tree.
“It’s warm,” she said, leaning in toward the fire and yet still feeling her earlier chill down in her bones. “And it will do. Especially since we have little other choice in the matter.”
Gertrude sighed as she slid the final pin in place. “Are you certain you don’t want me to stay here with you?”
Rosalinde pushed to her feet and turned to face her maid. “Gertie, I’m sure you’d rather stay with Lincoln. You told me the innkeeper gave you a room together.”
Gertrude blush was swift and bright. “Er, yes. When I told her that Lincoln and I had only been married a short time, she declared we’d have a room away from the others. It’s tiny as a mouse’s house, but itisprivate.”
“Tiny might be a good thing when it comes to a marital room,” Rosalinde teased, laughing as Gertrude’s red face got even redder.
“I-I suppose,” her maid stammered.
“Honestly, I will be fine on my own,” Rosalinde said, squeezing Gertrude’s hand. “You go and see that Lincoln and Thomas have gotten warm in the servant’s quarters. They had a much worse ride than we did. I’ll have some supper and you’ll come see to me later to help me ready for bed. It will be morning before we know it and then we’ll be on our way.”
Gertrude sighed. “Very well. But if you’re going to eat in that main hall, do be careful, Mrs. Wilde. I didn’t like some of the looks the men were giving you.”
Rosalinde blinked. “Looks?” she repeated. “You must be mistaken.”
Gertrude drew back, lips pursed. “You underestimate yourself. Every man in that room noticed you when we came in. And some of them weren’t too genteel, neither.”
Rosalinde shook her head slowly. It was hard for her to imagine her appearance would cause the kind of notice Gertrude implied. She just never pictured herself as an object of men’s desire. Her late husband Martin had made sure she knew just howundesirableshe truly was.
