“Step down,” he said, or rather commanded.
He had a point.Charity did not trust herself not to fall, and so she swallowed her pride, gathered her skirts, and let him guide her down. The yard tilted for half a second as she stepped forward, and Duncan’s hand tightened instantly, steadying her without a word.
Malcolm made a soft sound that might have been a cough.
“Do you find this amusing?” She turned her head sharply.
“I didnae say anythin',” Malcolm’s eyes were bright with mischief. “Our dukes are usually fond of delegatin’ kindness.”
Charity felt heat crawl up her neck. She tugged her arm out of Duncan’s grasp the moment she was steady enough to do it.
“I need sleep,” she announced, hoping that no one else noticed that she had turned as red as a tomato.
Duncan started toward the inn without comment. The innkeeper looked up, startled, when Duncan stepped in.
“My lord,” the innkeeper breathed, “Your Grace….”
Charity’s fatigue momentarily gave way to a dull irritation. Of course, people would fall over backwards to please the duke. She hated such behavior and found it to be extremely insincere.
“Rooms,” Duncan spoke without ceremony.
The innkeeper bobbed again.
“Of course, Your Grace. Of course. We…ah…we’re grateful for your patronage.”
“Rooms,” Duncan repeated, and there was less patience in it. She almost laughed at that, and wondered if she and Duncan shared the same distaste. She knew that a lot of menlovedthis sort of treatment, her uncle being one of them.
The innkeeper swallowed, and his eyes darted over Duncan’s shoulder, taking in Malcolm and then Charity. Upon seeing her, his expression faltered into something like confusion.
The innkeeper cleared his throat.
“We have… ah,” he began, sweating. “We have difficulty tonight, Your Grace. There’s…there’s been a coach delayed, and a merchant party, and I…”
“How many rooms do you have?” Duncan said, picking up on what the keeper was trying to convey. He was not a stupid man, Charity noted with some pride. And he was a respected man.
Surely, both of those things were good traits for a husband?
“One,” he said weakly. “One room left.”
“One room,” Charity repeated, crisp. “That won’t do.”
The innkeeper looked at her as though he had not expected the woman to speak.
“Miss…my lady….”
“I am not sharing a room,” she said at once. Duncan’s head turned toward her.
“We’re sharing a room,” he said.
“This is improper,” Charity said, keeping her voice low because half the room was already glancing in their direction. “We can take two rooms and put someone else out.”
“We’re not putting anyone out,” Duncan replied, and there was finality in it. “One room, and Malcolm will guard the door.”
The innkeeper hovered, “Your Grace… if…if it helps, the room has a couch. A small one, but….”
“Fine,” she said, already beginning to walk. “Then I will take that."
Duncan followed her. Upstairs, the hall smelled of damp wood and old soap. Their footsteps creaked on the boards. They passed two doors, then another. At the end of the hall, the innkeeper fumbled with a key and shoved a door open.
