“One room,” he announced again, unnecessarily, as if he wanted to make sure everyone understood the situation.
Charity stepped inside first, and the room was not as small as she’d expected, but it was undeniably one room. A single bed and a small couch by the window. She crossed the room towards it, as if to claim the space.
“There,” she said crisply. “That’s settled.”
Duncan shut the door behind them. Malcolm lingered outside, appearing as his usual cheerful self. Now that they were alone, Charity felt herself spiraling slightly.
It was scandalous enough to share a room. Let alone….
Her cheeks warmed again. Charity turned away quickly and focused on unfastening her cloak. If she kept her hands busy, perhaps her mind would stop spiraling.
Duncan moved across the room and began removing his coat. He did it efficiently, no fuss. He set it over a chair, then loosened his cravat.
“You’re taking the bed,” he told her after a moment.
“That is absurd, and there is no need,” she said. “You will take the bed, and I will take the couch.”
“You’re exhausted,” Duncan looked at her with slow patience.
“So are you,” Charity snapped.
“I’m not recovering from poison,” Duncan replied, rolling his eyes slightly. “You can argue, or you can sleep in comfort.”
“I will not sleep in comfort while you take the couch, because that would make me feel as though I’ve stolen something I shouldn’t. This is already improper. I will not add to it by making you sleep like a servant.”
She did not know why she felt so strongly about this, but she did. As annoying as he was, he had done a great favor for her, and she did not wish him any sort of discomfort.
“I’ve slept on worse than a couch.”
“I don’t care,” Charity replied, sighing, and then added a bit quietly, “I will not repay that by forcing you into discomfort.”
“You’re stubborn,” Duncan’s gaze held hers. So, he had learnt a new thing about his new wife.
And then he did something unexpected, he plopped on the bed, and leaned back before adjusting the pillow as if making himself comfortable.
“What are you doing?” Charity’s mouth fell open in disbelief.
“Lying down,” he shrugged. “You ought to join me.”
Charity stared at him, furious. Duncan remained infuriatingly calm, head resting back against the pillow.
“I’m not sleeping in that bed.”
“Then you’re not sleeping at all.”
Charity opened her mouth to argue again, but exhaustion hit her like a heavy curtain. She could feel it behind her eyes, and suddenly her resolve weakened.
“Fine.”
She moved to the bed and climbed onto the far edge, as far from Duncan as she could manage without falling off. She lay down stiffly, facing the wall, blankets pulled up to her throat.
She could finally avoid him now.
Charity shut her eyes and tried to breathe. But sleep did not come. Minutes passed, but her mind kept replaying the day.
She shifted, and the mattress dipped slightly with the movement. Duncan exhaled.
“You’re moving,” Duncan said. “Stop.”
