Handing her the blanket from the carriage so she could wrap it around her shoulders, he pulled the horse into a walk and started toward their destination. “Will you not ride with me?” she asked after a while. She’d warred with her conscience about suggesting he do so. But having him closer would help keep her warm, even if it wasn’t the wisest course of action. Especially not after the comment he’d made about her legs. Still, seeing him trudge through the snow while she sat like a queen filled her with guilt.
He muttered something imperceptible before saying, “I don’t think I should.”
“Because you claim to want me or—”
“Precisely.”
He said nothing further, and neither did she. But that didn’t make her any less aware of the tension that seemed to have formed between them. It was palpable, like a ball of dry hay waiting for a spark to set it on fire.
* * *
By the timethey arrived at the inn, Alistair’s clothes were permeated by frost. He could feel it all the way to his bones, his feet so cold they’d practically gone numb. Helping Miss Potter down from the horse, he felt her shudder and knew she wasn’t faring much better. A hot bath would help, but before such a wonderfully soothing experience could be his, he would have to return to the carriage with a couple of men and a spare wheel.
But as they entered the inn and he became aware of how overcrowded it was and that several patrons were deep in their cups, he was forced to reconsider. Leaving Miss Potter alone here would not be the right thing to do.
So he led her over to the counter and addressed the elderly man who stood there. “Are you the innkeeper?” he asked.
“Aye,” the man responded.
Explaining his situation, Alistair asked if the man could spare a couple of grooms and if he had an extra wheel available too, offering decent compensation for both.
“I’ve two strong lads out back. I’ll ask them to go help your coachman bring the carriage here.”
“We’ll also need two bedrooms and a spot in the loft for my coachman to rest.”
The innkeeper raised both eyebrows. “As you can see, we’re practically filled to capacity.”
“Practically?”
Nodding, the innkeeper glanced at Miss Potter. “I’ve one room left. You might consider sharing.”
Appalled the man would suggest such a thing, Alistair shook his head. “That’s out of the question.” Miss Potter was an innocent young woman, who needed to be protected from the likes of him. “What about the hayloft?”
“There’s no more space up there. I’m afraid your coachman will have to sleep in the carriage. We can provide some blankets for him so he can be comfortable.”
Which still left Alistair without a bed unless he agreed to do as the innkeeper had initially suggested. Glancing at Miss Potter, he chastised himself for even considering such an inappropriate course. Especially when she was standing there, hugging herself in an effort to get warm. “Show us up, please.” He would decide what to do with himself later, once she’d been made comfortable.
The room turned out to be of the smaller variety, with the bed propped up against the wall and a chair in one corner. Setting Miss Potter’s bag on the floor, Alistair turned to the innkeeper. “I don’t suppose there’s room enough for a tub to be brought in?”
“It’s been done before,” the innkeeper said. “I’ll have it brought up as soon as possible.”
“And if we could please have some food as well, that would be splendid.”
The innkeeper nodded. “The beef stew is good. Will you want to eat it downstairs or up here?”
Thinking of the drunken men in the taproom, Alistair told the innkeeper to bring it up. He waited until he was gone before turning toward Miss Potter. “I apologize for the way this evening is going.”
“It’s not your fault.” She considered the room, observing its small size before meeting his gaze once more. “I’m happy to share this room with you, if you like.”
The tension that had been gripping him with increasing force since the moment he’d met her began to take its toll. “Thank you,” he said, clenching his jaw. “But it would not be proper.”
“I am well aware of that, Lord Alistair. Especially after what you have told me.”
He dipped his head and moved toward the door. “Then I shall leave you to rest. The bath will be up soon, along with the food. I hope—”
“But with no room in the hayloft and your coachman sleeping in the carriage, what will you do?”
“I don’t know.” It was the truth. But when it was clear his comment did not agree with her, he hastened to say, “I’m sure I’ll figure something out.”
