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Wes nodded. “Thank you.”
Wes’s fingers pressed into her back, nudging her toward the staircase that lined the far right side of the entryway opposite the dining room.
Her feet shuffled forward, the whole of the last day piling onto her shoulders—and the most glaring fact of it all was that she’d lost complete control of her surroundings and the ability to decide anything for herself. Heat spun in her chest, anger starting to brew into a wicked storm she didn’t think she could control much longer.
Hold it.
Hold it until she was out of public eye.
Hold it like she had learned to do so well during the last seven years.
She lasted up the stairs and into the room at the end of the corridor, and then she couldn’t stand the touch of Wes’s hand at her back another step more.
She jumped away from him as the door to the room closed, moving to the pitcher of water and basin on the chest of drawers opposite the fireplace. She untied her sopping bonnet and yanked it off, setting it on the chest.
Wes didn’t leave, standing by the door, silent.
For moments, she tried to calm, scrubbing at her face and hands with the water and a cloth, trying to force sane breaths into her lungs.
Futile.
Calm was not to be her companion at the moment.
He still wasn’t leaving. Not intending to leave.
She exhaled a seething breath, unable to turn around to Wes for she feared the words that would fly from her mouth if she looked at him. “I’m not staying in this room by myself, am I?”
“No. No, you’re not, Laney.”
She whipped around to him. “Why am I not surprised?”
He leaned back against the door, his arms crossing over his chest. “I mean to keep you safe, Laney. And that means staying in this room with you. I’ll not apologize for it.”
“I don’t suppose you would.” Of course he wouldn’t. It was his way. Always his way. He knew what was best—never mind her having a thought in her own head.
She stepped away from the basin of water, cocking her head to it. He quickly strode across the room and cleaned his hands, splashing water on his face.
She stood by the door, staring at his back as she forced her voice to neutral. “You didn’t answer me outside, Wes.”
“About?”
“Where are we going? What danger are we in?”
His fingers froze above the water bowl for a long second and then he flicked his hands in the air, sending droplets flying. “There are things I can’t tell you, Laney.”
“Why not?”
He turned around to her, moving past her to open the door. “Things you cannot know.”
She grabbed his arm, her voice rising. “That’s not enough—not by far.”
“It will have to be. For your own safety.” He shrugged his arm, sending her hand flying off of him. “I’m hungry, Laney, and I’ll not argue with you about this now.”
Her lips drew inward, biting her words back. If the pit of her own stomach weren’t growling, angry for food, she’d grab him again and make him tell her.
He swung the door wide, stepping out into the hallway.
The argument would have to wait. Just another thing he’d decided for them.
