As they walked closer to the destination that would change her life forever, she studied Rory’s profile. His strong jaw, his beautiful green eyes, the long lashes that fanned his cheeks with every blink. She realized she didn’t want their journey to end.
Because the ending meant goodbye.
And she didn’t think she would be able to say goodbye to Rory Hart.
Not now. Not ever.
Chapter Fifteen
Rain threatened theskies once they finally were back on the trail. A village was a short distance ahead. It would veer them off their journey a bit, but Rory didn’t care. He’d passed the point of not wanting to delay their arrival. Now it seemed all he wanted to do was find ways to keep Alana beside him just a wee bit longer.
They would head for the village and find shelter from the impending storm. This time, he wouldn’t force Alana to stay in a musty, abandoned croft. Nay, she would have the luxury of a room. A warm, comfortable bed.
Alana was curled into her cloak, her head down, practically tucked into the warm wool. But she made no complaint. Only followed him, trusting him wholeheartedly.
He wondered when the shift had come. When had he suddenly started to long for Alana to stay by his side? He wanted to tell her about his family. His brother and sisters. His parents. Hell, he wanted to tell her about Hartsmoor and his favorite place to escape the raucousness of the castle.
“Is that a village?” Alana asked in awe, pointing to the tip of a chapel that came into view as they climbed a hill.
“’Tis.” He looked up at the sky just as a fat drop of rain fell and landed in his eye. He squinted and wiped it away. “I was hoping to get there afore the rain began to fall, but it appears we willnae.”
Within minutes, cold rain splashed down, soaking them both to the bone. Rory was for certs the contents of their bags would also be sopping messes once they finally found shelter.
They hurried their steps, but Rory took care so that Alana didn’t slip and hurt herself. In the village, he found the inn, nestled against the mountain, it was tiny and quaint, and it would be the perfect place for them to dry and enjoy a hearty meal and a good sleep.
Rory ushered Alana inside and immediately she moved to the hearth where a fire roared. Rubbing her hands together in front of it, she sighed in contentment.
He hid a smile at the joy that sigh brought him.
“We will need two rooms, please,” Rory addressed the innkeeper who held smiling blue-eyes and a shiny bald head. His shoulders were hunched over, and he walked with a slight limp as he moved to his ledger.
“I am sorry, sir. I have only one room left—with one bed.” His stare slid over to Alana and then back to Rory, a frown turning down his mouth.
Rory tensed, his gaze clashing with Alana’s.
Her lips were pressed into a thin line as she pondered their situation. Finally, with a shrug she sighed. “’Tis fine. It doesnae seem like we have much of a choice, do we?”
“I do apologize, sir.”
Rory waved off the old man’s apology. “There isnae need to apologize. We are just happy to have shelter from the storm.” He nodded toward the door. “The rain came on quick and strong.” The man nodded and handed Rory a key.
He paid the man the stated price and then picked up their packs and guided Alana to their room.
Inside, he set their bags on the floor as Alana stopped and assessed the room.
“There will be no wandering hands this night,” she warned.
Rory put his hands up in defense. “Ye will get none from me,” he promised and began unpacking their items and laying them out near the hearth so they could dry. He walked to Alana and untied her cloak, slipping it off her shoulders so he could hang it too by the fire. Because it was so wet, the wool would take the night to dry, he was for certs.
Her teeth began to chatter, and he rubbed her arms with his hands, trying to get her warm.
“Let us go downstairs. The innkeeper had mentioned that there was warm cider to be had in the main room.”
She let him lead her out the door and down the hall and stairs. They went past the desk where they had secured the room and entered a large, open room. Two huge hearths were on opposite walls, their fires burning bright. Chairs were arranged in front of them, and he led Alana to one and had her sit. He pushed the chair a little closer so she could dry off and warm up.
A young servant appeared at their side. “Might I suggest the warm, spiced cider? ’Tis made special by the innkeeper’s wife and will warm ye from the inside out.”
“That would be lovely. Thank ye,” Alana said through clattering teeth.
