“Even if there was a room to be had, and there isn’t, I’ve not the money for it. Don’t worry, I’ll sleep on the floor.”
“I don’t care,” she said crossly. “It wouldn’t be right for us to be in here together. What if the innkeeper found out?”
“The innkeeper doesn’t care—”
“Did you tell him we were man and wife?” she accused, her eyes narrowing.
“No,” he said, his temper breaking. “I told him you were my bloody mistress.
She slammed the door in his face so hard the wall shook.
Chapter Seven
LYSSAreceived so much satisfaction out of slamming the door in Mr. Campion’s face, she was tempted to open and slam it again.
As if testing her, he knocked on the door, a single, insistent rap.
She wanted to ignore him. She couldn’t.
Opening the door no more than a crack, she demanded, “Yes?”
He shoved the tin of salve for her blisters on her feet. “Don’t open this door again. Not for anyone.” He then shut the door for her.
Steam could have come out of Lyssa’s ears. Dear Lord, there was only so much she could take of that Irishman in one day and she’d had her fill. Leave it to her father to find the one man on earth who had the ability to irritate above and beyond all others.
Over supper, he’d been a bullying, ill-mannered bear and she’d had enough. He could go to the devil for all she cared.
As if in answer to her thoughts, he settled himself on the floor outside her door. He relaxed, releasing his breath with a groan that sounded much like the growl of a tired bear. She could almost picture him, his back against the heavy wood, prepared to spend the night in front of her door like the good bodyguard he was…and for a moment, she did feel a bit of guilt—but she quickly pushed it aside.
Hewas being paid very well for his trouble.
Shewas going to have a good night’s sleep, something she knew she wouldn’t have if he spent the night in the room with her. There was something about his presence that was too disturbing, too overwhelming. When he was around, she found her thoughts and her senses overpowered by him…and it was making the trip very difficult.
Frustrated, she removed the tarot card from her bodice. Why couldn’t this card have had a picture of someone bland and inoffensive? Someone who didn’t have the power to make her feel both nervous and excited? Or who was more amenable to her needs?
She unlaced and pulled off her shoes and slipped the card into one for safekeeping. Tossing the salve onto the bed, she crossed to the washstand and poured cold water from a heavy ironstone pitcher into the bowl. Undressing down to her ripped petticoat, she hung her clothes on apeg and washed the dirt from the road off her person. There was no soap, but the meager bath helped. Refreshed, she sat on the bed, removed the bandagesfrom her feet, and used the salve. She had to admit the oily paste was doing its job.
At last, Lyssa climbed into bed, ready to relax—and got right back up again.
The sheets were not clean.
She’d suspected as much. After seeing the clientele in the taproom, she hated to think who might have been sleeping here before her. So she redressed in everything but her belt and shoes and lay on top of the bedclothes, using her plaid as a blanket.
At last, she attempted to sleep. Unfortunately, the noise from the taproom carried right up through the wood floor. Whenever someone climbed the stairs, she could hear every clumsyclompof their feet on the treads. Too many of the guests seemed to bounce back and forth against the walls while walking down the hall, as if they’d had more than their share of drink.
She was now glad Mr. Campion was outside her door.
She wondered if he’d gone to sleep, or was he still awake, still alert? He was a hard man. The floor would suit him fine…still, she could have let him sleep inside the room…
At some point, Lyssa drifted off without realizing she slept, but hers was not a dreamless sleep. Instead, she saw herself running and running, pursued by nameless men wishing to kill her, and all she wanted was to find someplace safe.
And then the pounding started, shaking her dream world like a battering ram—
Lyssa sat up, startled awake by the realism of her dream. She felt as if she’d barely closed her eyes, and yet the hour must have been quite advanced, because all was quiet.
Unsettled, she started to lie down again, when there was a loud bang and the wall next to her bed shook as if something had been rammed into it.
With a cry, she rolled off the bed and onto the floor.
