Page 24 of A Midwinter Wager

She smiled her thanks, took a sip and chewed on some of the fruit, then pulled a face. A raisin soaked in brandy lost a good deal of its sweetness. She could see why the whole idea of the game of snapdragon was to pluck the fruit out quickly.

As the brandy worked its soporific magic on a group of people already tired from the exertions of the evening, yawning became rife. Cesca proclaimed her intention of heading to bed immediately, determined to show no fear. Alicia's petty little scheme would fail, and she'd lose her gold.

Cesca made her way up the creaking stairs by the light of a guttering candle and entered her room. It didn't look frightening. It had a bed, a chair, a chest and a large fireplace. An ewer and basin stood on a stand by the window—all very prosaic and not in the least bit supernatural. Sighing, she hung her bonnet on a hook behind the door and was about to do the same with her cloak, when she heard a soft scratching on the wooden panels.

"Who's there?" she whispered, as the hairs on the back of her neck prickled. Alicia, come to gloat? Or to give her a reprieve?

"It's Fitz," was the whispered reply. "May I come in?"

She lifted the latch immediately to admit him. Once inside, his presence filled the room, chasing away the shadows like a glowing beacon in the night. She barely resisted the urge to launch herself into his arms.

Closing the door behind him, he strode across to the fireplace. “It’s damn cold in here, Cesca. You’ll catch your death.” He crouched before the hearth and busied himself stoking up the flames before turning to face her. "I'm still happy to swap rooms with you—I don't give a damn what anyone else thinks."

Her voice wavered as she replied, "I'm fine. I'm not afraid of a phantom that probably doesn't even exist. I've taken the captain's advice and dosed myself up with brandy, ready to sleep like the dead."

“I can’t tell you how much I want to taste your lips right now,” he murmured, extending a hand toward her. "But first, it’s imperative that we work out what—" He was interrupted by a metallic scraping sound on the other side of the door.

A sense of dread washed over Cesca. She ran to the door, lifted the latch and tugged, but it wouldn't open.

On the other side, Alicia giggled. "I got the key from the landlord, Cesca, to make sure you can't cheat. I'll be back at first light to let you out and give you your winnings from our wager. See how generous I am!"

Too astonished to protest, Cesca stared at Fitz open-mouthed, as Alicia's light footsteps skittered off down the passageway. He blinked a couple of times. Then a slow smile spread across his handsome features.

"Well, Miss Francesca Heathcote," he said, his voice ripe with promise. "It looks as if we're going to be spending the night together."