He joined her in examining the room and seemed as surprised as she was by what she found. During the stolen hours when they’d talked, many of the patrons of the inn had slipped away to their rooms. Those left were drunkenly sprawled out here and there, including the innkeeper and his wife, who leaned against each other in the corner crooning a bawdy song as they passed a bottle between them.
“Time has flown, it seems,” he agreed.
“We should go to bed,” Rosalinde said, then jerked her face to his as her words rang in her ears. “I mean, I should go to my room. You should—well, you are obviously capable of doing whatever you like. You’re a man, a grown man, a-a man able to make his own decisions.”
Her cheeks grew hot at the stammering she suddenly couldn’t control and Mr. Gray laughed softly. It wasn’t a mocking laugh, but warm as the fire behind them.
“I am very glad we have determined that I am a man. It takes a great deal off my mind,” he teased. “But you are right when you say that it is time for both of us to retire. After all, tomorrow will likely be a long one, for the storm may pass but the remnants will not make travel pleasant.”
He rose to his feet and she caught her breath. She’d forgotten how tall he was. And now his big hand reached out to her, an offering of assistance. A temptation.
“I will take you,” he said.
She shivered despite herself. Of course he meant take her upstairs, but her errant, wicked mind conjured up other kinds oftakingbefore she could stop herself. It must have reflected on her face, for his smile fell, and for a moment his gaze took on a heated quality that made her stomach flip and her legs squeeze together.
She rushed to her feet.
“Yes, yes, thank you,” she said, her words running together rather embarrassingly. “I would appreciate it.”
She hesitated a fraction of a moment before she took his offered arm. She’d touched him earlier in the night, in this exact manner. That moment had been burned into her body and now she knew him even better. Now she could recognize that she wanted him even though it was foolish and ridiculous and dangerous to feel thusly. Touching him now was going to affect her even more.
But she did it. She folded her fingers around his bicep with a shiver and forced herself to stare straight ahead as he guided her to the staircase. As they climbed up together, their bodies touching far too intimately thanks to the narrowness of the passageway, she desperately sought a topic of conversation to fill the heavy silence that had come down between them.
“I’m certain you’re looking forward to getting wherever you were going when you were waylaid,” she said, knowing she was chattering mindlessly but unable to stop it. “I was expected today and I’m sure they’ll be worried. This is my door.”
She motioned to the door they were approaching and he came to a stop before it. “Thisis your room?”
“Yes.” She looked at him, for his tone was hard to read. He was staring at the barrier without releasing her. “Why?”
“Mine is the next,” he said, pointing just a few steps down the hall.
Her body clenched against her will and she began to throb between her legs. Cursing her body, she took a long breath. “My. Isn’t that…funny?”
“Yes, funny,” he said, his voice suddenly rough.
She slid her hand from his arm and took a step away. She was trembling, he had to have felt it. And judging from the way his dark stare met hers, he knew exactly why. It seemed she was incapable of hiding her desire.
Chance was a funny thing. Here she was, trapped in this place, thrown into a stolen night with a devastatingly handsome man and now he was going to be separated from her by just a thin wall. She would not sleep well knowing that fact, that was clear.
“Well, good night,” she managed to choke out, turning away from him at last.
“Yes, good night,” he said, but didn’t move to leave. Apparently he was going to see that she got into her chamber safely. Which was gentlemanly of him, even if it felt the opposite as he stood behind her, watching her fumble with the door.
At last she got it open, but she was greeted with an unpleasant surprise. Instead of the warmth of a fire to welcome her, a blast of cold air burst from the dark room.
She recoiled from it with a gasp and he rushed to her side, touching her elbow.
“What is it?” he asked, even as he peered into the room.
The fire was cold and all the lamps in the room save one had died out. But by the faint light, the problem Rosalinde had encountered was clear. The rickety window where she had stood what seemed a lifetime ago had been broken when a branch from the tree outside cracked and fell into it. Glass and wood were spread halfway into her room, along with piles of snow on the soggy, worn carpet.
“Oh no!” she gasped, and stepped inside the chamber.
“Careful now,” he said as he followed her in. “There’s glass everywhere.”
“I watched that tree swinging around in the wind earlier,” she said with a shake of her head. “I actually thought it was pretty when it swung to the music of the storm.”
“Well, you’re lucky it wasn’t deadly,” he said, lifting the remaining lamp and holding it toward the bed. A heavy clump of the branch now rested in the middle of it and glass was strewn all over it.
