The sun was struggling to break through heavy clouds when he felt Harriet stir. He kept his arm loosely draped over her waist—making sure his hand was nowhere inappropriate—and pretended to still be asleep, even as she gave a quiet gasp and rolled back to her side of the bed.
He missed her already, and not just the warmth she took with her. What would it be like to wake with her in his bed every morning? To rouse her in a sensual haze and leisurely make love before facing the day? To make her moan with pleasure at night, enjoying one another with wild abandon?
He lay still, giving her privacy to get ready. He heard the rustling of fabric as she set her clothing to rights and added the daytime layers and her boots.
“You can open your eyes now,” she said quietly, setting her saddlebags on the bed. Nick stretched and yawned. She retrieved her brush from the mantel and began brushing her hair. As their eyes met, a light blush stole across her cheeks.
“Zach intends to travel up to the winery with us this morning,” Nick said, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side.
She cocked her head to one side and went still for a moment. “I don’t hear any sounds from next door.”
Nick shrugged and pulled on his boots.
She fished a length of cord from her waistcoat pocket and began braiding her hair at the dressing table, while he stood just behind her, looking at his own reflection above her as he tied his neckcloth.
Their eyes met in the mirror. A smile played about her mouth, and he felt an answering grin spread across his face.
Who would have thought when they met in the ballroom a few weeks ago that they’d be here, engaged in such mundane but intimate personal tasks after spending the night together, and her still as innocent as when they left London?
Harriet ducked her head in an unexpected spurt of maidenly modesty—had his thoughts been so obvious?—and quickly repacked her few belongings. She gave a last look around the room, then slid the chair out from under the doorknob. “I’ll go see if I can order breakfast for us.”
Nick waved her on.
Minutes later he entered the dining room … and stopped short at the sight of Harry eating breakfast with Jonesy and Zach.
Zach saluted him with his coffee cup before taking a sip.
Nick shook his head and sat at the last place at their table, where a plate of eggs, chorizo, and migas already awaited him. There was a carafe of coffee and a teapot in the center of the table, and cups for everyone.
“Mornin’, Cap’n,” Jonesy said. He scooped up a forkful of egg. “Sleep well?”
Harry kept her head down, totally absorbed in the task of stirring milk and sugar into her tea.
“Yes,” Nick said, unwilling to give anything away, even to his first mate. “You?”
Jonesy chewed and swallowed. “Stables were snug and warm. And the neighbors didn’t snore.”
Harriet let out a startled giggle but quickly schooled her expression to one of polite neutrality and dug into her meal.
“I also slept well,” Zach announced.
Harriet choked.
Zach thumped her on her back.
She waved her hand, indicating she was fine, and reached for her teacup for a deep drink. Her shoulders shook with silent laughter when she set the cup down.
Company in the dining room was sparse. Locals came in to socialize mostly in the evenings, and fellow travelers came and went at various times depending on their agenda. They spent several minutes enjoying the food in relative quiet, the cheery fire crackling in the hearth dispelling the early morning chill.
“Zach is going to accompany us up to the winery,” Nick said after he polished off his food, addressing Jonesy. “I’d like you to return to the Wind Dancer. Keep an eye on repairs, make sure everything is restocked.”
Jonesy nodded. “And maybe look for a replacement for the starboard gun? Per’aps the Frogs left behind some ordnance that the British didn’t find.”
Before Nick could voice agreement, Zach slammed his cup down with a loud clink. “What happened to her starboard gun?”
“I’ll tell you when we’re on our way,” Nick said. He waved the innkeeper’s wife over and let her know they were ready to depart. The innkeeper came out and Nick settled the account for himself, Jonesy and Harry, his eyebrows climbing in shock when he saw the fee charged for the hot bath. After a glance at Harry, he shrugged and paid the bill without haggling. Harry looked well-rested and was accepting a small cloth-wrapped bundle from the serving girl that she put in her coat pocket. And she smelled good. Not that she had ever not smelled good, even when her scent was predominately gunpowder and wet hemp.
Their party trooped out to the inn yard, and soon Harry and Jonesy’s horses were brought out. Jonesy swung up and waved goodbye and quickly rode out of sight. The rainstorm of last night had moved through, tapering off to a drizzle this morning, the droplets so fine it was more like a thick fog.
