“Well…” Mr. Dale gave her the sort of look that suggested she wouldn’t like his idea one bit. “With Cloverfield on our heels, I’m unwilling to leave your side. And with nightfall ahead, we’re going to need to seek shelter somewhere off the road so we can avoid him in case he comes looking for us. Now, there are a couple of houses in the distance – a mile away or so. I would suggest we head toward them. If we’re lucky, the owner can help with the horse as well.”
“And if we’re unlucky?”
Mr. Dale gave her a tight smile. “Let’s be optimistic, shall we?”
13
It was slow going getting to the first house James had spotted. With one horse limping along and the other forced to pull harder, it took at least twice as long as it would have done at a regular pace.
Eventually when they did arrive, James saw that the first house wasn’t nearly as large as it looked from a distance – more of a cottage really.
Nevertheless, he went to knock on the door.
“Yes?” inquired the older man who answered. About a head shorter than James, he was slim of build with large bushy eyebrows resting above a pair of inquisitive eyes.
“Excuse me for bothering you,” James said, “but one of my horses’ shoes has sprung and with the next inn quite a ways off, I’m hoping you’ll let us make use of your home while my coachman tends to the horse.”
“Aye, but considering the late hour, I reckon you’ll want to stay until morning unless you mean to travel by dark.” The man peered past James. “We can put up your coachman, but you and your wife will have to stay with the Mitchells. Give me a second. I’ll be right back.”
The door closed, leaving James alone for a moment. He briefly considered correcting the man’s misconception regarding Mrs. Lawson. She’d probably prefer it if they continued pretending they were brother and sister. But setting them up for the night would be simpler if they were able to share a bed. The very idea of such a thing occurring was enough for him to keep his mouth shut on the subject when the old man returned.
“I’ve told the missus to offer your wife some tea while I help you and your coachman with the horses.” The old man shoved his arms into his jacket while striding toward the carriage. “Once they’ve been taken care of, we’ll take you up to the Mitchells.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“Name’s Walker.”
James glanced at the older man. “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Walker. I’m Mr. Dale, and this here is my coachman, Green. If you’ll excuse me a moment, I’ll just have a word with my wife.”
Funny how easily that particular word slipped off his tongue. James strode after Mrs. Lawson, who’d wandered a bit farther up the road.
“It looks like we’re in luck,” he said when he reached her.
She turned toward him, the glow from the late afternoon sun affording her with an ethereal look that nearly took his breath away. Shading her eyes, she glanced toward the carriage where Mr. Walker and Green were presently unfastening the horses. “It’s kind of him to help.”
“There is one catch though,” James confessed. When she directed her gaze to his he said, “Mr. Walker assumed you’re my wife and since I’d rather not complicate matters, I didn’t correct him.”
Mrs. Lawson stared at him for a moment as what this implied sank in. Her eyes widened a fraction. “Why wouldn’t you tell him what we’ve told everyone else thus far?”
“Because I don’t think it would make any difference.”
“Of course it would. One implies a familiar bond that could allow for separate rooms if such a possibility exists, whereas husbands and wives are expected to share the same bed.”
“Given the number of lovers you claim to have had,” James told her in a low voice while stepping so close to her he could see the rapid beat of her pulse at her neck, “I don’t see why spending one night with me should be an issue. I promise to keep my hands to myself if that’s your concern.”
Spinning away, he went to assist the two other men. He knew he was being unreasonable. After her recent altercation with Cloverfield, it made sense she’d want to sleep alone – that she’d not want to risk another man making advances. It made even more sense if she was not as experienced as she claimed. And yet, the panic he’d seen in her eyes when she’d realized they’d have to share a room and possibly even a bed irked him. Maybe because he knew she had nothing to fear from him, and the fact that she might presume she did put him in the same box as Cloverfield.
But there was something besides the anger this possibility stirred in him. There was also the jealously he’d harbored toward every man who’d claimed to have had her in the past. No matter how much James had resented her these last two years for being unfaithful to her husband, he’d secretly wished he’d met her sooner so he could have been among her lovers.
But if she’d not been as wanton as she pretended, maybe there weren’t any lovers at all and she was just nervous. In which case he was a fool for getting wound up over her reluctance to sleep by his side. Even though he would have thought their friendship had advanced to the point where it ought not be a big deal, provided they both kept their clothes on. After all, lovers or not, she had been married, so it wasn’t as if she’d never shared her bed before. Apparently, she just didn’t want to share it with him, which bothered him more than he cared for. Most likely because he’d been certain she shared his attraction.
Muttering a curse, James snatched the healthy horse’s harness from Green and followed Mr. Walker to the back of the house. The coachman soon caught up, leading the lame horse along at a much slower pace.
“I’ve not got too much to offer in terms of a stable,” Mr. Walker said with a hint of apology, “but it’ll have to do.”
Grateful the man had some shelter to offer the horses, even though it was just a fenced-in structure consisting of six wooden posts and a roof, James gave his thanks. At least there was fresh hay and water. He guided the horse he was leading into the spot directly beside Mr. Walker’s cart horse. A donkey standing a little further along brayed.
“Right then,” Green said. “Let’s see about changing this shoe.”
