Page 35 of The Curse of Penryth Hall
I fumbled with the lock until it clicked then gave the door a shove. It wouldn’t budge. Stuck on its heavy iron hinges. The whole inn must have been built three hundred years before considering the slant of the deep-black wood floors. I slammed my battered hip into it with a grunt, and the door swung open. A musty scent greeted me as I stepped inside, dropping my drenched traveling bag on the floor. Fiachna, tired of being damp, wriggled out of my arms and made himself a spot in the middle of the bed, pointedly licking his paws and commencing his evening routine.
Just as I turned to bolt the door, it flew back at me, revealing a very wet and angry Ruan Kivell on the other side.
“What are you doing?” he growled, his hand wrapped around the edge of the jamb. “Did you forget what I told you this afternoon?”
I waved him off, pushing futilely against the door. “That was this afternoon. Things changed.”
“I forbade you from coming into the village alone. You gave your word you’d remain on the estate.” With his free hand he slicked his hair back from his head and stalked into the room, letting the door slam behind him. He turned his back, and for half a second, I thought—no, hoped—that after asserting himself in a fit of masculine pique he would turn around and leave. But alas, he only bolted the latch with a sickening slide of metal to wood.
“As I said—” I straightened my spine, trying to look as prim as a soaked rat could be. “—that was before. Things changed. Now if you don’t mind, I need to get out of these clothes before I catch my death.” I tilted my head to the door hoping he could take the hint.
He did not.
“Very well. If you intend to stay, don’t drip on my bed.” Once behind the screen, I tugged off my soaked boots and began working to remove the rest of my woeful attire. A little puddle of water leaked out as I tossed the boots toward the unlit fireplace. “Be a dear, and do something about that, would you?”
“What are you thinking, trying to leave?”
My lace brassiere was wet enough it may as well have not been there at all, for all it hid. I unfastened it and tossed it over the screen along with everything else. “I didn’t ask your permission, I’m a grown woman. Besides, who are you to forbid me anything? I appreciate you saving me earlier, and Iadmit that whatever you did to my head did ease the pain considerably—however, last I checked you were not my father, my lover, or my keeper.”
He made a strangled sound in his throat as I heard a match strike and the sound of air as he worked to relight the fire.
“Oh, let me guess what comes next. You’re going to sayyou cannot leaveagain as if my answer will be any different. I can. And I will. Now if you don’t mind, please dig in that bag over there and see if there’s something only moderately damp before I catch my death.”
“People don’t catch the ague from being wet.” A deep roll of thunder shook the inn. He rustled around on the other side of the screen before tossing what looked to be a chemise over the top, followed by quite possibly the least attractive day dress I owned. A gray-and-cream affair I’d bought when I was feeling particularly glum. I snatched both up—blissfully dry—and commenced tugging, wriggling, and fastening buttons.
“It’s not safe for you to leave here. Not yet.”
Well, at least that was something different. I stepped out from behind the screen to glare at him.And it’s safe here?
“Of course it’s not safe.”
I startled, staring at him. “How did you do that?”
“Do what?”
“You answered me.” I narrowed my gaze, stepping closer to him.
“Of course I did.”
“I hadn’tsaidanything.”
“Yes you did,” he grumbled.
“And how did you find me so quickly? There was no reason for you to be out in the storm.”
He folded his arms, shifting where he stood. His eyes downcast, not meeting mine. “I was in the village. We aren’t discussing me. We are talking about you.”
“And you just happened to see me. In the middle of a storm, with the street nearly flooded out?” I didn’t believe him. But the alternative was impossible. A man could not simply read another’s deepest innermost thoughts. No. He most certainly couldn’t. I was going mad, that was the more plausible explanation. “I have no reason to stay. And your charming townsfolk have made it perfectly clear that I’m not welcome.”
“No reason to stay…” he repeated gravely. His eyes bright. “You see no reason…”
“I can do whatever I wish,” I grumbled, toweling off my hair. It was a mess of dark curls now. Ruan and I were a matched set. Both dark and unruly things. I’d never noticed that before.
He took me by my arms, pulling me close in a futile attempt to will me into compliance. “You cannot leave.”
“And why, pray tell, can I not drive away from this godforsaken crossroads?”
“What do you think it would look like if you did?”
