Heather looked skeptical, and in truth, the north of England was far less densely populated than the south of the country. But Niall had confidence that they’d reach shelter soon enough. In the meantime, he had to pace their travel more carefully. The mad dash from the last town took a toll on the horse.
So Niall rode the stallion down the track at a steady, measured trot. He kept a keen eye on the clouds, gratified to see that the heavy, grey-bottomed masses were moving directly west to east. The thunder grumbled occasionally, but didn’t grow louder.
In front of him, Heather slumped a bit, and he realized she was dozing. He nudged her. “You all right?”
“What?” she asked, snapping back to awareness. “Oh, yes! Just a little…” She yawned, raising one hand to hide her open mouth. “Excuse me!”
“You are excused. Did you not sleep well since you escaped from your enchanted castle?”
“Not a wink. I walked through the night to get more distance from my uncle.”
Her inflection was matter-of-fact, and she wasn’t fishing for sympathy. Nevertheless, Niall felt a wrench in his gut at the image of Heather trudging barefoot through the forest, looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was coming after her.
“We’ll have to find you some shoes,” he said.What an inadequate response, he thought. Here was a woman on the run, with no allies and no means of support. Shoes wouldn’t save her. Sooner or later, she’d be located and taken back by her legal guardian, to be dealt with as he wished. Niall was all too aware of the power of the law, and how impossible it was for a single person to change it.
“I can work…for shoes…” Heather replied, her voice muffled because her head nodded into his chest.
“What work can a young lady like you do?” he asked. She’d mentioned becoming a schoolteacher, but surely such a job took considerable effort to find.
He got no answer. Heather’s eyes had slid closed once again, and he knew that this time, she wouldn’t rouse herself. The girl had had averylong day.
So he settled her against his body. She murmured but didn’t awaken. Her head nestled on his shoulder, and he inhaled something sweet and fresh. Possibly lavender, if that’s what she used to wash her face and hair. He liked it.
And he liked the weight of her, the softness of her curves pressing against him. Her strawberry blonde hair had come loose from its bun, sending curls down her neck and around her face, softening the hunted look she’d worn since they met.
He wasn’t entirely sure the girl wasn’t mad. But then again, the man who came after her in the inn—Brom?— was real enough, and he didn’t seem to have her best interests at heart.
Niall should have left her at the Double Swan. She was not his problem.
But she had a fire in her that he respected, and he admitted to curiosity about her. Who wouldn’t want to know where her path took her?
He kept one arm around her shoulders, riding at a steady pace. When a spattering of rain hit for a few minutes, he opened his coat to tuck Heather under it, keeping her dry. He was rewarded with a direct downward view of her breasts, thanks to the gaping neckline of the ill-fitting gown. He quickly pulled the coat around her and tried not to think of her body…which was impossible when her body was glued to his. He quickened pace, and hoped that his torture would end.
About an hour later, he heard the lowing of cattle in the distance.
“A farm,” Heather said then. She had woken without him realizing it. “We must be getting close to somewhere.”
She was correct, and within a quarter-hour they could see a cluster of buildings in the distance. Good thing too, because more clouds were gathering in the western sky, and they looked nastier than the first brigade.
They approached the small village at a walking pace. A local who was walking along the main path directed Niall to a white-plastered building at the west end of the street. Niall was glad to find the inn, really just a private home with a few rooms to let and an expanded dining room for travelers and locals who didn’t or couldn’t cook for themselves.
“Here’s our shelter in case that rain finds us,” he said. He dismounted, then helped her down to the ground. He took off his coat to wrap it around her. “Just till we find you something to wear,” he murmured. “Folks would take note otherwise.”
Heather nodded, trying to run her fingers through her messy hair. “Do I look like a ragamuffin?”
“You look like a traveler in need of a quiet room,” he replied diplomatically. “Let’s go in and see what they’ve got.”
He was frankly relieved to have Heather no longer perched on his lap, because he was trying very hard to be a gentleman about the whole encounter, and well, certain things were just getting very hard, full stop.
Something about the feel of a woman’s bottom across his legs, her hip pressing into his crotch to match the rhythm of the horse’s stride…it was maddening. He wanted to carry Heather to the nearest bed and make her feel the way he’d been feeling for half that ride.
It was damn tempting to pull her closer and kiss her as prelude to other negotiations, except that she wasn’t the sort of woman who’d welcome that. In fact, despite her tattered dress and bare feet, there was an unmistakable sense of gentility about her. And a wounded dignity that got to him—Niall’s dignity had been wounded often enough that he recognized the look.
He’d help Miss Heather Hayes out, like a gentleman. And he’d keep his impulses to himself. There were other women in the world, after all.
But did other women have Heather’s spirit? Or those sweetly pink lips?
As they stepped into a plain but tidy foyer, the proprietor of the inn hurried in. “How can I help you, sir?”
