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Gwen turned instantly serious. “I’m afraid we’re out of rooms, Duke.”
Clayborn’s brows snapped together. “You had one not five minutes ago when I entered . . .”
“Aye, but you didn’t have any money then. So I gave it away.”
He looked around the room, taking in the collection of faces—unchanged from when he’d arrived. “To whom?”
Silence fell, understanding coming heavy and quick. He looked to Adelaide, who looked like the cat that got the cream. “Early bird and all that.”
“I should take offense to you comparing my rooms to worms, Adelaide Frampton,” Gwen said before looking back to Clayborn. “There’s a warm loft in the stable if you’d like.”
“Not a single room available,” he said, turning to Adelaide. “Imagine that.”
She shrugged and lifted a fork, tucking into the flaky pastry of the pie in front of her. “One room available, as a matter of fact. The last room. My room.”
Not just the last room. The last bed.
Her bed.
Where she’d be sleeping without him. While he slept...
“The stables, then, Duke?” Gwen asked, and Clayborn had the distinct impression that he was part of a game—Toy With the Duke. He didn’t like that.
Nor did he like the way Adelaide Frampton watched him, as though she expected him to make a fuss. As though she expected him to play the part, too pristine and perfect for a night of discomfort. “The stables will be fine,” he said, enjoying the surprise that flared in her eyes at his reply.
“Excellent. I shall add it to your bill.”
“I shall pay a premium for the hay, I imagine.”
Gwen offered a bawdy wink. “Soft as goose down, I vow it.”
“Only the best for the duke’s smooth skin,” Adelaide said, her lips curving in a little wry smile.
He shouldn’t have let her tease him. Shouldn’t have let herdraw his gaze to skin of a different kind, a pretty, peachy expanse above the line of her traveling dress. Shouldn’t have let her words hint at how smooth it would feel.
The door to the tavern opened behind him, letting in the cold from the wind and rain beyond, reminding him that the roads would make a late-night journey to another inn interminable. The hayloft of the Hawk and Hedgehog was better than nothing.
“I’m sure it will be fine, Gwen. Thank you.”
Gwen laughed, big and bright, clapped him on the shoulder and looked to Adelaide. “Not the worst duke I’ve ever had in here, I’d say.”
Adelaide raised a brow in his direction. “Give him time.”
With another chuckle, Gwen disappeared in the direction of the bar and Adelaide lifted her fork, stabbing one round potato and popping it into her mouth. She watched as he dug into his own food, tracking his movements for long moments before he grew uncomfortable under her gaze.
He set down his fork. “What is it?”
“Why are you chasing your brother and Lady Helene?”
The question was a surprise—the kind that came so quickly and unexpectedly that it summoned the truth. “Because my brother deserves happiness.”
She waited for more. “As simple as that?”
“Does it have to be more complicated?”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t have a brother.”
“No one to teach you to climb a tree?”
