Page 67 of If the Slipper Fits
“Aye, sir,” he said, his relief evident.
A quarter of an hour later, Caden felt the carriage slow and turn off of the main road.
Several flashes of lightning revealed a two-story inn, and what looked to be a working stable and barn. The windows of the establishment glowed, offering a cheerful welcome and respite from the inclement weather.
He could well imagine sitting before a hardy fire eating a hot meal, washed down with a frothy ale. His stomach growled in anticipation.
The driver halted his team beneath a hanging sign announcing the establishmentThe Jolly Pumpkin.
After directing the groomsman to the stables, Caden vaulted to the graveled courtyard, eschewing the carriage stoop for expediency sake. He would gather whatever luggage he needed for himself later should there be a vacancy. If not, he’d bunk down with the horses. Whatever the case, they were through traveling for the night.
A round faced, rosy cheeked proprietress greeted him just inside the door. She wore a beaming smile missing only one or two teeth, and barely blinked at the lump over his right eye.In swift order, he procured a room, pocketed his key, and headed back out.
He stood on the porch a moment, filling his lungs with the cool, damp night air, then hiked up the collar of his great coat and crossed the courtyard toward the stables.
He took his time, allowing the icy rain to revive his senses and dispel some of the effects of the whiskey. The liquor might have dulled the pain from his latest injury and slowed his obsessive thoughts about a particular woman, but neither result lifted his mood in the slightest. He gave a self-derisive snort. Apparently he preferred to suffer with a clear head.
Inside the stable, a lone lamp burned. He quickly discovered the stowed coach.
The groom was nowhere in sight. From the loft area, muted voices and a slit of light beneath a closed door, likely the stable master’s private room, told him Harrison’s diver had found a billet for the night.
Now to see to his own needs.
He opened the coach door, hoisted himself up and leaned inside—then froze for a full second while his brain caught up with what his eyes were seeing. The luggage compartment stood open, and Anna, wearing the same gown from earlier, hovered over the bench, one leg in, one leg out of said compartment.
He dove the rest of the way into the carriage, yanking the door closed behind him. Darkness enfolded them. Cursing under his breath, he pulled a box of sulfur tipped matches out from beneath the bench and relit one oil lamp.
As though turned to stone, Anna stood frozen, skirts fisted in her hands. She stared at him, skin ghostly pale, eyes wide as saucers.
“Icansee you. You might as well complete your exodus from the luggage well. And while you’re at it, would you mind telling me what the devil you’re doing here?”
***
Anna teetered, one leg in the hold, one knee pressed onto the bench cushion.
“Oh, um, hello.” She started to hoist up her skirts to pull her other leg over the trunks and through the opening, then paused, her cheeks flushing with heat. “Would you mind averting your gaze?”
After first rolling his eyes in an unnecessarily dramatic fashion, he complied, gesticulating with his hand for her to get on with the thing.
She did, sparing a moment to close the cupboard behind her, before perching atop the bench opposite Caden. She cleared her throat.
He turned to face her, fixing her with a stony stare.
She licked her lips. “I didn’t know it was your coach I got into.”
He arched a brow. “No, indeed? Whose did you think it was? This is your usual means of transportation?”
She tamped down her irritation deciding she owed him a degree of patience. After all, she had stowed away in his vehicle.
“I didn’t ask whose vehicle it was. Lady…er…rather, the advice given me suggested climbing aboard your conveyance was the most expeditious—perhaps only option available to me.”
He tapped his lips with one finger, brows furrowed.
She blinked rapidly. “I had no reason to think I might be riding with you. Not until I heard you speak to the driver, at any rate. You certainly shared no plans to leave tonight when last we spoke.”
“When last we spoke,” he said, his tone deceptively neutral. “No, don’t s’pose I did.”
She lowered her eyes and plucked at her skirts. “Is it because of what happened between us youleft?’
