Page 28 of How To Tempt A Bodyguard

"I'm going to change my trousers now," he said. "Unless you want to watch that too."

"I'll restrain myself." She disguised it as humour, but Matthew heard it: heat.

He turned away and finished changing. Quick, efficient, not letting himself think about her eyes on his reflection.

"Done," he said.

She turned. Her eyes flicked down, then up. Checking that he was decent. Or checking something else.

"The girl should bring food soon," she said. "We should eat. Get warm."

"Aye."

Neither of them moved.

The rain drummed on the roof above their heads. The room felt smaller than it had before. The bed loomed in Matthew's peripheral vision, impossible to ignore.

Three weeks, he reminded himself. Three weeks of this.

He was beginning to think he wouldn't survive it.

The innkeeper's girl arrived with a tray: leftover kedgeree from breakfast that smelled better than it had any right to, two cups of mulled wine, stale seed cake. Matthew took it from her at the door, keeping Mrs Archer out of sight.

"Anything else, sir?"

"No. Thank you."

He bolted the door behind her.

Mrs Archer had claimed the room's only chair, a rickety thing by the washstand. Matthew settled on the chest, his back against the wall, the tray balanced between them on the bed.

The first few minutes passed in silence. They ate mechanically, both hungry, both too tired for conversation. The mulled wine was over spiced but warm, and Matthew felt the heat spread through his chest with each sip.

"You know," Mrs Archer said finally, "I've stayed in worse places."

He glanced at her. "Have you?"

"Mm." She tore a piece of bread, chewing thoughtfully. "There was a coaching inn near York. The bed had fleas. Actual fleas. I spent the whole night sitting in a chair, waiting for dawn."

"Sounds miserable."

"It was. The next morning, I found out the innkeeper had been watering the ale and skimming from travelers' purses. I reported him to the local magistrate." She smiled faintly. "Petty revenge but satisfying."

"You reported an innkeeper for fleas?"

"I reported him for theft. The fleas were just motivation." She took a sip of wine. "I don't like being taken advantage of."

"I've noticed."

She looked at him over the rim of her cup. "What else have you noticed?"

"About you?"

"About anything."

Matthew considered the question. Considered her. The careful way she watched him. The tension in her shoulders despite her casual tone.

"You're testing me," he said. "Have been since we met. Small questions, little observations. Seeing how I'll react."