Panicking, Adrian instinctively reached for his daughter, whose face was now red with fury.Then, realizing what had transpired, he offered her back to Samantha.
“No.”Samantha was already heading toward the door.“I’m going to get some rest.If you need assistance, Emma can help.”
The door opened and closed, leaving Adrian in the library.Alone, with a screaming infant and a very strong feeling that maybe he’d overreacted.
* * *
Sitting in bed with the coverlet pulled around her, Edwina considered the man who slept in the chair.James Murry.He’d positioned himself in front of the door, whether to stop her from leaving the room or to make sure he’d be alerted should someone try to enter, she wasn’t entirely sure.
A bit of both, perhaps?
The soft morning light illuminated his features, which were dominated by hard lines.Not in the way that made for a handsome appearance, but rather a roughened one that proved he could be just as harsh as a winter storm in the highlands.
Even now while he rested, he looked irritable.
Unsurprising, considering how much he’d gone through on her behalf — a stranger to whom he owed nothing.
Her heart tightened behind her ribs.While she’d known Henshaw had fired his weapon, she hadn’t realized he’d actually shot Murry until they arrived at this inn and he’d asked her to survey the damage.How self-obsessed he must think her, to accept his assurance that he was well when he clearly wasn’t.
All her thoughts had been on how to avoid going home, while the man who’d ensured such an option even existed for her quietly suffered.And as if that weren’t enough, she’d repaid his sacrifice by trying to run away from him.
Truly, she wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he thought her the most unfeeling person in the world.
She expelled a slow breath.At least there had only been one lead ball to contend with.It hadn’t been deeply imbedded, allowing her to extract it with the aid of the tools the inn-keeper provided.
The other lead ball had only grazed his shoulder without making entry, but the wound it had caused was still raw.The pull on it whenever he used his right arm was clearly cause for discomfort.
Edwina had cleaned both lacerations with some brandy before covering them as well as she could with clean linen strips.She would have to check her work today to ensure there weren’t any signs of infection.
Her gaze dropped to her hands on that thought and a chill swept through her.Even though she’d washed them last night, she could still see Mr.Grover’s blood staining her flesh.
Swallowing hard, she jerked her head sideways and closed her eyes, attempted to keep her breaths smooth and steady.
Yet there was no denying what she had done.
She’d stabbed a man to death and…
Blocking out the horrid sound he’d made when she pierced his throat with that dagger was impossible.It remained imbedded deep in her brain, reflecting her terrible actions back at her with haunting precision.
Her stomach turned over as nausea hit her.She shivered and drew the coverlet more firmly around her shoulders.Though the action helped ward off the chill a little, it didn’t soothe the prickly sensation now sweeping her skin.
She glanced toward the fireplace where only embers remained.Perhaps she should make an attempt at sparking some flames?
Could she even figure out how to?
It wasn’t something she’d done before, but it couldn’t be that complicated, she reasoned.And she desperately wanted the warmth.
Cocooned in the coverlet, she climbed from the bed and padded across the floor in her stocking-clad feet.She’d slept fully clothed.Hadn’t even let down her hair.
After tending to Murry and eating the stew that one of the serving girls brought, she’d simply collapsed on the bed.
A soft grunting sound filled the air, drawing her attention back toward Murry.His eyes remained closed, his chest slowly rising and falling beneath his crossed arms.Lips parted, he produced the same sound again — an almost imperceptible snoring that made the edge of Edwina’s mouth curve in amusement.
It was the strangest sensation, but there was something indescribably charming to be found in the moment.A kind of intimacy she knew she’d forever after struggle to put into words.
Another shiver rolled through her, breaking the spell.She hastened toward the fireplace and dropped to a crouch before it.A brass pail containing wood stood to the left.The usual tools hung from a stand that sat to the right.Inside the fireplace, only small fragments of the log that had burned through the night remained.
She pulled a new one from the pail, set it on top of the still-glowing embers, and waited for them to catch hold.
