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An explosion of wings and croaking squawks jerked her back to reality with the heart-stopping force of a gunshot. And the molten slide of orgasm gave way to the slippery muck of the road, unceasing rain, and thigh muscles stretched to the breaking point.
She glanced at Aidan’s uncompromising back from beneath the soggy hood of her cloak.
Had she said this trip would be very, very bad? Try horrible times infinity.
Aidan woke, blinking up into the gray of predawn, confusion at his whereabouts making him question the heavy oaken beams above his head, the draft from a rattling set of windows, and the dampness in the smelly blankets covering him. But with the acclimation of his vision came clarity of thought. A sparsely traveled road. A rickety inn chosen for its unassuming façade. A bedchamber that under normal circumstances he’d have handed over to his manservant with reservation.
He watched the creep of shadows over the floor as night faded into another rain-weary day. Shifted on the thin, straw-filled pallet. Felt the tendons in his thigh give with a snap akin to the original gunshot. The pain slicing from his leg to his brain, dragging a groan from dry lips.
“. . . Jeremy . . . nowhere,” came a grief-stricken entreaty.
Aidan froze. What the hell was Cat doing in his room? And who was Jeremy?
Leaning up on his elbows against the lingering strain of overused muscles, he found his translator and traveling companion curled in a threadbare blanket on the floor in front of the dying remains of the fire.
“Cat,” he hissed.
She roused with a bleary, confused shake of her head.
“Cat.”
This time she heard him. Came fully awake with a startled sailor’s oath.
He raised a curious eyebrow.
A flush of scarlet creeping up her throat, she drew her knees to her chest. Dragged the blanket up over her shoulders. Her hair lay tousled with sleep. And from beneath the hem of her chemise, bare toes peeked. An innocent vulnerability that had Aidan shifting uncomfortably in his bed. The agony moving from his leg to his groin.
“How did you get in here?” His gaze shot to what he was sure had been the locked door.
She answered with a proud sniff. “Anyone with half a brain and a hairpin could have gotten past that lock.”
“All right, then. Next question. Why”—he motioned toward the nest of blankets, the fire, her current state of dishabille—“the midnight visit?”
“The roof leaks in my chamber.”
He glanced to the window and the gray misty veil of rain.
“Sieves have fewer holes,” she complained. “When an ominous drip started over my bed, I surrendered to the flood and decided to camp in here.”
Skepticism must have been written all over his face because a glittering scowl lit her jade stare. “Why did you think I’d come?”
A rusty smile curled a corner of his mouth. “Let’s just say I had a theory.”
She scowled. “Oh, really? And what would Miss Osborne think of your theory?”
Their eyes met. Cat’s green gaze as luminous as river stones. A shift and shimmer of emotion he felt all the way to his bones. It made him bold. Reckless. And gut-seethingly jealous.
“Who’s Jeremy?” he blurted.
He knew he’d made a fatal error as soon as the stupid question left his lips.
Instantly the shutters came down. Inscrutability replacing the scorching heat he knew he’d seen racing over the surface of her features. So much for the dirty little fantasy he’d been conjuring.
“What does it matter to you?” Her tone regally cold.
“You spoke the name in your sleep.” He backtracked like mad. But the damage had been done.
Cat rose. Padded toward the door, her thin shoulders erect, back ramrod straight. “Jeremy was my first mistake.” Paused on a shaky, indrawn breath. “I won’t make a second.”
