Page 79 of If the Slipper Fits
Caden’s blood boiled with renewed rage. Sweat trickled down the center of his back.
“Another,” Bolton barked at the barman. “And one for my friend. Tonight is a night for celebrating.”
Caden slashed a hand at the barman. He’d accept nothing from the bastard. He grasped his stein of ale so tightly his knuckles turned white. “What are you celebrating?”
Bolton smirked into his full snifter. “A long awaited return on investment.”
He referred to Anna, of that Caden had no doubt.Return on investment. Damn it,howwould marriage to her benefit Bolton financially? All he knew for certain was that the baron had attempted to cement the legality of his marital claim by doing the unthinkable with the woman Caden—
His mind went blank, and time seemed to stop.
With the woman hewhat?
Acid burned in his gut. Seeing Bolton had his mind—and body—in a tailspin.
He could sort everything now by simply wrapping his hands around the man’s neck and squeezing the life out of him. But if someone stopped him, or if someone didn’t and he wound up in irons, who would protect Anna? He’d made so many mistakes with her already. He would not foul this up, too.
He pushed his half full stein toward the barkeep. He had the answer he sought. He’d get Anna to safety. Then he’d deal with Bolton.
***
The chamber door gave a soft click. Anna came fully awake, though she didn’t move so much as a muscle. She lay still on the mattress, bedsheets pulled to her nose, listening.
She’d nodded off after lying in bed staring at the plaster tiled ceiling, waiting for Caden to return. She had no idea how much time had passed, but based on the notable lack of heat in the room, and the absence of light behind her her eyelids, the fire in the hearth had long since died.
Rustling noises sounded near the door. Then one boot heel thumped the wooden floorboards, and he gave a low curse.
After a moment she heard his soft footfalls and the faint brush of his trousers as he padded toward the basin,sansboots.
Fabric whispered as he stripped. Her mouth went dry imagining that supple, bronzed skin, bared. Water splashed oh-so-quietly, then she heard a scrubbing sound as he washed. Something warm and decadent pulsed in her belly.
He crossed the room. A scraping noise sounded within the grate, followed by loud pops as embers ignited in the hearth. Soon light flickered behind her closed eyelids and warmth dispelled the chill.
The armchair creaked in protest as Caden, presumably, settled in for the night.
She rolled onto her back, sheets rustling, mattress squeaking, her eyes pinched shut.
He had to have heard her. Did he study her even now? Her heart thudded hard in her chest as she waited for him to say something.
He huffed out a muffled, disgruntled sigh, shifted his weight, then nothing.
Seconds ticked by. He either hadn’t heard her move, or didn’t care that she might be awake.
She opened her eyes, suddenly, unaccountably vexed. Before she could stop herself, she said in a too-loud voice, “You don’t—”
Caden gavea yelp of surprise.
“—have to sleep sitting up.” She giggled and said more softly, “I didn’t mean to startle you.”
He grunted, noncommittal. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”
“You didn’t,” she lied, then cleared her throat. “There’s plenty of room on the bed for both of us. You must lie atop the cover, of course.”
He made no comment.
“Caden?”
“Go back to sleep,” he growled.
