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They reached the room a few moments later, four beds lined up in a row. The first three were occupied, large lumps under dark blankets, so they made their way to the final one, tucked beneath a window with a large crack in it that allowed a heavy draft to blow about the room.

“Now we know why there was one left,” Charles muttered under his breath.

A snorting occurred in the bed next to them, and a lump tossed back and forth before settling again. Marie watched them warily, as well.

“I’m sorry about this,” Charles whispered.

She merely shrugged. “You warned me. At any rate, now when you speak of your ship tossed about at sea, I shall be able to speak of a night spent at a potentially duplicitous inn beneath a broken window next to three snoring, adult men.”

Charles couldn’t help but grin.

“And,” she continued, “at least we do not have to deal with any great stench hulled up in that corner.”

“Right you are.”

And yet, when they faced their sleeping arrangements, he still hesitated. Compared to the inn’s mattress, Woewood’s beds had seemed fit for a king. This one was hardly large enough for the both of them—and there was no chance they would be able to share it without touching.

“I’ll sleep on the floor beside you,” he offered in a whisper.

“You most certainly will not. It’s covered in mud.”

He eyed the smears of muddy footprints strewn about the floor, visible from the light of the moon pouring in from the window. “But the bed isn’t large enough for the both of us.”

“As I said before, we are married.”

“But our arrangement...”

“The annulment?” she clarified.

He couldn’t care a lick about the annulment any longer. He merely wished for Marie to have the option, should she still wish for it.

Please, do not let her wish for it.

“Yes, the annulment,” he replied.

“As if we are in danger of risking that here, surrounded by all of these men. Now stop your protesting and share a bed with your wife.”

Her eyes twinkled, and his heart skipped a beat.

She removed her gloves, bonnet, and boots, setting them at the end of the bed on the floor before climbing onto the lumpy mattress first, fully dressed as she scooted up against the wall. She paused, eying the grey pillow with a slight wrinkling of her nose, then tried to hide her hesitance with another smile.

“Here,” Charles said at once, removing his jacket and placing it face down on the pillow so she might sleep on the inside of it.

Relief filled her expression instantly. “You don’t have to do that,” she protested, but he insisted.

She laid down on her side, then patted the spot next to her.

Charles didn’t move an inch. For the last few nights, he’d longed to lay down beside her, to hold her, caress her soft skin, but the wall between them—though paper-thin—had provided a strong enough barrier.

How was he to manage tonight?

“What’s the matter?” she asked. “Do you need more room?”

He shook his head. “I do not think this is wise.”

“I promise to keep my hands to myself,” she teased.

“That’s hardly what I’m concerned about.”