Page 68 of If the Slipper Fits
His derisive snort drew her gaze back to him. She thought she detected a ruddy stain on his cheeks, although in the yellow light of the lamp she couldn’t be certain.
“As it happens a family emergency called me away. I’m heading for Derby. I hadn’t intended to stop tonight, but the weather had other plans. And here I am answeringyourquestions, while you feed me your usual vagaries. What is going on, Anna? The truth for once.”
She did owe him the truth. But did it have to be now? Bedraggled, muscles cramped from hours crammed into the pitch-black hold, rattling along with the trunks, half afraid the coach would overturn in the maelstrom, starved, and to make matters worse, in need of the facilities.
She studied his hard expression and knew better than to suggest a delay.
She opened her mouth, but before she could utter the first syllable, Caden bounded across the narrow divide and mashed his large, warm palm over her mouth. He smelled good. Like the soap he favored and warm male skin.
She glared at him and resisted the urge to bite.
Then she heard masculine voices. The scrape of a cabinet opening and closing. Clinking glass.
She nodded her understanding, and Caden withdrew his hand, albeit with evident reluctance.
After a moment the voices receded in time with the thump of heavy footfalls climbing stairs.
To her surprise, rather than renew his demand for answers, Caden gave her a resigned look. “This is not the best venue to hold a private conversation.”
“What do you propose?”
He smiled sardonically. “Let us get you a room…sister.”
He lowered the carriage step then helped her down, giving her as wide a berth as humanly possible in the cramped stall.
She waited as he disappeared once more into the coach interior. He emerged seconds later hoisting two cases, one black, the other a fine looking, medium-sized pastel trunk embellished with ribbons and tiny flowers.
She peered at the latter. “Is that mine?”
“You don’t know?”
She shook her head. “Lady…” she pressed her lips together, uncertain whether she ought mention Lady Wentworth’s part in all this.
He sent her a long-suffering look, then jutted his chin for her to precede him from the building.
As soon as the door closed behind them, he turned to her. “What about Lady Wentworth?”
When she hesitated, he sent her an icy smile. “Who else would dare stow you in my—Harrison’s—coach? Unless you have another benefactress amongst the guests at Femsworth Manor?”
He made a valid point.
Lightning flashed, followed by a rumble of thunder. She inched closer to him.
“Lady Wentworth both packed and stowed my things before I even knew I was to depart.”
He glanced down at the feminine trunk he held. “Very helpful.”
She nodded her assent, ignoring his sarcasm. “Do you think we ought to go inside?”
“Come on, then.”
They made haste crossing the rain drenched courtyard to the inn.
A few minutes later, a bemused proprietressshowed Anna, Caden in tow, to her room, all the while grumbling about why on earth the good sir hadn’t thought to mention his sister in the first place.
“Lucky for you, we still have a room to let, what with this night’s weather. Guests’ve poured in all evening, and the storm don’t appear to be lettin’ up any time soon.”
Caden made no comment. He surveyed the chamber appraisingly before depositing her trunk on the bed. His gaze slid to Anna. He eyed her up and down.
