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“’Tis what I said.”
“But . . . now you risk your life to protect the very country you fought against. I don’t understand.”
“’Tis the life of a mercenary.” He shrugged. “Philip pays well. As does John, which is why my . . .” She shot him a look. “. . . Our mission will not be an easy one.”
“But you are not getting paid for this.”
“I am not. This particular mission is for the order.”
“But why? Why would a man loyal to no one risk everything for three Englishmen—”
“Two Englishmen. And a Scotsman.”
“If you care not about the outcome?”
Guy turned serious. She’d hit upon something he did not want to discuss. Interesting.
“A story for another day.”
Sabine looked around the inn’s hall. “We’ve time for it now.”
But she could tell Guy was finished talking.
“Nay, we do not.” He stood, outstretching his hand. “’Tis time to secure lodgings and”—he smiled—“for us to become husband and wife in truth.”
Her heart skipped a beat. “But you said . . .”
She stopped, taking his hand, belatedly realizing he was teasing her. Sabine tried to summon relief but instead there was only disappointment. Silly, as it was she who had determined their course. The look he was giving her at that very moment served as the only reminder she needed that, given her acquiescence, their marriage would be immediately consummated.
Chapter 14
Guy opened the door to their room for the second time that evening. After securing it earlier, he’d left to check on the horses. And to ensure the men whom he’d tangled with earlier had moved on. He’d begun to return, changed his mind, and went to the hall instead.
He’d do better to wait for Sabine to fall asleep.
He found himself distracted by her lips. By the way she breathed in so deeply whenever she was worried. That was how he’d known she was uncomfortable as they entered the inn’s hall earlier. Hell, he’d felt much the same way. The Fiddler’s Inn was not intended for noblewomen.
But it could be for a girdler. The very idea of it . . .
Guy shook his head. She would be good at the trade, of that he had no doubt. Her work spoke for itself. But would such a life suit Sabine? Although she was certainly resourceful—the manner of their meeting had taught him that—she was also very much a lady. Refined and well-spoken. Heart-wrenchingly beautiful. Nay, he could not imagine her living in a town alone, selling her wares alongside the type of men who would sooner steal from her than they would help her succeed.
That kind of thinking was the exact reason Guy stayed belowstairs for longer than necessary. He was becoming much too entangled with his wife. She was more thoughtful than he, as Guy knew the reason she did not give in to the temptation they both felt. He would do well to follow her lead.
And concentrate on the mission ahead.
The door creaked much too loudly as it opened. The room he’d secured was small but well-appointed. Or tidy, at least. The bed was too small for them both unless he wanted to sleep nearly on top of her.
His cock answered the call. Because aye, he did want that. Very much.
“Guy?”
She sat up. Her voice was not that of a woman who had been sleeping.
“You’re awake,” he said without looking toward the bed. Best not to tempt himself.
Sabine didn’t answer, but he could feel her watching him. Removing his boots, then his tunic and hose, Guy moved to the wooden washstand. Grateful for the bowl of water, more so than he’d expected, he washed himself, remembering only belatedly the drying cloth was in his saddlebag.
“Here.”
