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“Oh.” She froze on the threshold. Phillipa had not been expecting such a grand hall. It was unlike any of the inns in which they’d stayed thus far. Larger, and certainly more lively. There seemed to be people everywhere. “It did not look so large from the street.”

Holt strained his neck to look both ways beyond her. “I thought as much. The guilds are closely associated here, and it seems as if the tavern next door and the inn have combined.”

She realized as they entered he was right. Where there once must have been a wall, now tall wooden beams remained between what seemed to be two separate halls. There was even a troubadour in one corner reciting words she could not hear.

“The owner must be wealthy to hire such a man.” Even she knew they came at a considerable cost, typically reserved for nobles.

“The baron is likely not in residence.”

She’d seen a fortified manor house in the distance as they rode into town, but she did not understand the connection. “The baron?”

“Aye. Entertainers such as he would offer their services at a reduced cost until the lord returns. Rather than spend their time traveling to a new town.”

She was about to ask who the baron was when they were interrupted by a woman. She was short, plump, and by her smile, seemingly a kindly woman. “My lord.” She bowed. “My lady. Can I offer you a meal?”

At first Phillipa thought her a serving woman, but as she looked closer at her kirtle, she could see the material was quite fine indeed. So when she introduced herself as the owner of the inn, Phillipa was less taken aback. But still surprised the owner was a woman. To her knowledge, such an occurrence was not common.

As she and Holt negotiated lodgings and a meal, Phillipa spied Isaac walking toward them. “Would it be possible,” she asked, “to take my meal abovestairs? I would very much like to rest.” She nodded to Isaac. “And will leave the two of you to your pleasures.” Of which there seemed to be plenty. Gaming, music, women. . . the men could do to be alone, and Phillipa would be content to change out of her gown.

“Shall I send a bath along with your meal, my lady?”

“If such a thing is possible, I would be grateful.”

Though the men protested, Phillipa was overjoyed to find herself, some time later, in a comfortably sized room sitting in hot water for the first time in days. Phillipa laid her head back on the side of the wooden tub, memories of another, much larger one taking hold. Usually she forced her mind elsewhere, but tonight, she wanted to remember.

She could almost feel his hands on her. An ache in her chest left her hollow, the loss, unbearable. Damn him. Opening her eyes, she reluctantly washed and stepped out of the tub. Drying her wet hair as best she could, Phillipa moved to the small trunk that the packhorse so kindly, even if unwillingly, carried each day. She pulled out the brush and ran it through her hair, tears springing to her eyes so suddenly Phillipa had no recourse but to let them flow.

She missed him. With every waking breath, she missed him. And even though she had a plan, some small hope that they could be together, even Holt admitted it could be weeks, or months, before he came to Hillstone. When he did, Phillipa would not hold back. First, she would tell him what she thought of him leaving. And then, she would kiss him so thoroughly he’d regret riding away that day. And maybe, just maybe, he would let her in.

Let her love him.

She jumped at the sound of a knock on her door. Holt would not disturb her now, and it was too soon for them to come for the tub. Phillipa had intended to remain in it much longer, but the memories of another bath lessened the enjoyment she’d thought she would feel in it.

“Who is there?” she called, having been careful to lock the door behind her.

“I’ve your meal, Lady Waryn,” a maid called from the other side. She turned the lock and let her into the chamber.

“Thank you,” she said as the young girl placed a wooden tray on the sole small table, which served that very purpose. The girl bowed and looked to the tub. “I will send someone to have it removed. Good even, my lady.”

“Good eve,” she replied, walking her to the door. When she stepped through it, Phillipa pushed it closed. But just before it did so, the door stuck on something. She pushed it harder, but it refused to budge. Stepping forward, she meant to locate the obstacle and gasped.

It could not be.

Chapter Twenty-Eight

He was starved for her.

Haydn hadn’t realized how much he’d truly missed her until now, He’d planned this moment so many times on the journey. At first, he thought to find her at Hillstone. But pushing himself, and Hamon, riding well into the night most days, he’d picked up their trail. And when he realized he was getting closer, that he might find her on the road, Haydn pushed even harder. It became apparent that morn he would catch them as long as he arrived in town before daybreak.

Haydn knew his brother would come here, so he’d not been surprised to see he and Isaac in the hall. But when he did not see Phillipa, Haydn knew a moment of panic like never before. Thankfully Holt was quick to tell him she simply wished to rest. Tomorrow he’d deal with his brother’s obvious disapproval of him.

But right now, he cared for only one person’s forgiveness.

He had meant to say he was sorry. Instead, Haydn pushed his way inside, slammed the door, and pulled his wife toward him. His mouth sought hers, and found it. Their kiss was unlike any other they had shared. He kissed her to say he was sorry. To say he loved her. To say he wanted to be with her more than anything else in the world.

Their tongues slashed, Haydn not even realizing he’d slipped off her shift until his hands found the treasure beneath. He cupped her breasts, pinching her nipples between his fingers. In response, Phillipa tugged on his shirt, so he broke contact only long enough to undress more quickly than he had in his whole life.

They said nothing. Haydn had too many words, and Phillipa, for her part, still appeared stunned to see him. Undressed, he pulled her back, never intending to let go.