“Your Grace!” he cried. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”
“There is no time for pleasantries, Holden,” Winston said. “My wife is ill and needs to be heated up at once. A hot bath is also needed if it is possible.”
“Of course, it is. Anything for you, Your Grace.”
The innkeeper scurried off, and Winston brought Vanessa into the dining room where he pulled a chair over to the fire and sat her in it. A few minutes later, the innkeeper’s wife came out with a bowl of soup and some tea, and Winston set both in front of Vanessa.
“My hand is shaking,” she said as she picked up the spoon. She glanced at him, her eyes fearful.
“It is just the cold; it will pass,” Winston assured. “But here—let me.”
He took the spoon from her, dipped it into the soup, and brought it to her lips. Her eyes wide, she allowed him to feed her. For several minutes, they stayed like that, him spoon-feeding her the soup. They said nothing, but the tension between them was so thick that Winston could feel it. Never in his life had he performed such an intimate act for someone. And from the look on her face, she had never experienced something like it either.
After several minutes, she began to shiver less, and some of the pink also began to come back into her cheeks.
Good,he thought, relief washing over him.She looks more like herself.
Once they were done eating, the innkeeper came in and told them their room was ready.
“And there is a hot bath in it,” he assured them.
“Will you be okay to bathe on your own?” Winston asked as he helped Vanessa to her feet.
“Yes,” she said, flushing and looking away.
“Very well,” Winston said. “Then I will join you after.”
Her head snapped back to him. “You will… join me?”
“You heard the innkeeper,” Winston said, a small smile flickering across his lips. “It isourroom. I suspect it was the last one in the inn.”
Her eyes still wide, she nodded and then left the dining room. Winston sat back in his chair. He was shaking too, he realized. Not from cold but from fear, shame, and anger. Emotions were building inside of him, but he had no place to put them.
He gave Vanessa half an hour to bathe then ascended the stairs and walked along the corridor to their room. Outside of it, he knocked softly.
“Come in,” she called from within, and with slightly shaking hands, he pushed the door open.
Chapter Sixteen
“Good evening,” he said as he entered, looking around.
The bathtub stood in the corner. It was empty, so a servant must have been in here to empty it after Vanessa’s bath. She was already in bed, wearing a white nightrail. The covers were pulled up to her waist, but as he came in, she pulled them higher, all the way up to her chin.
“Where did you get that?” he asked, indicating the nightrail.
“The innkeeper’s wife,” she muttered, looking away. “Apparently she noticed I did not have any luggage.”
Winston nodded, suddenly self-conscious. He would have to change out of his own clothes in front of her. There was no screen. And then he would be joining her in the bed. There was no sofa, nothing else he could sleep on, and he was exhausted.
Grunting, he went to the corner and pulled off his jacket, cravat, and waistcoat, his back to her. If he had to guess, she would be turned away. Once he was done with these, he pulled off his muddy boots and then, with some trepidation, unbuttoned his buckskins and left them both in a corner. Only then did he turn around and face the bed.
To his surprise, Vanessa was staring right at him, her eyes wide.
She has never seen a man in such a state of undress,he thought ruefully.Even the other night, I was wearing pantaloons.
Not so now. He was only in his long drawers. She was undoubtedly petrified and a little nervous, and he could not pretend he wasn’t affected.
Well, it was better to get it over with rather than let it linger over both of them.
