Page 105 of A Castaway in Cornwall
“Your hair is beautiful,” he said, unable to stop himself.
“Thank you.” She dipped her head, clearly self-conscious.
Trying not to stare, he stood, searching the room for some distraction. “I will, em, clean my teeth.” He turned to the washbasin, scrubbed his teeth with the brush and tooth powder from his knapsack, and washed his face and hands, glad for the cold water.
The maid, Rennet, returned as promised, and Laura smiled at her. “If you could help me with the fastenings?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
To keep up the pretense that he planned to spend the night with his “wife,” Alexander remained in the room, instead of escaping like the interloper he knew himself to be.
He licked dry lips. “I will, em, just read while you change.” He repositioned the chair, angling it away from them, and sat down, trying in vain to read the New Testament and Psalms he’d found on the side table.
The maid undid the back buttons and loosened the lacings of the shapeless black frock.
His rebellious eyes now and again shifted to the side, catching a glimpse of bare shoulder in the dressing table mirror.
Steady, Carnell. You are not really married, however youmight wish you were at this moment. Think of somethingelse....
But he was losing the battle. A minute or two later, he cleared his throat and rose. Stepping to the door, he said, “I think I will go down for a glass of something while you ready for bed.”
He quickly fled the room—and the tantalizing sight of Laura Callaway getting undressed, her gorgeous hair down around her shoulders.
Half an hour later, he knocked softly and let himself in. The room was darker now, the fire burned low and only one candle left alight—the one on the side table beside the empty bed.
Laura lay on her side in the other bed, facing the wall, blankets pulled up to her ear. Asleep or feigning it?
He removed his coat and hung it on a peg. He yanked off his boots, then removed his waistcoat and folded it with military precision. He pulled his shirt over his head, washed it out in the basin, and hung it near the fire to dry for the next day. He was too warm as it was, but remembering Laura’s earlier shivering, he added a scoop of coal to the fire before climbing into bed, wondering if he would get any sleep lying this close to her.
Slumber had barely overtaken him when he was awoken by the sound of someone pounding on a distant door. Alex leapt from bed and crept to the window. Below, he saw two men holding lanterns and another official-looking man in uniform.
“Open up!”
A window squeaked open, and the innkeeper called out, “We’re full up, my good fellows, and the taproom closed for the night.”
Laura joined Alex at the window, gripping his arm in fear.
“We don’t want a room, we want a word,” the officer called back. “We are searching for a Frenchman. An escaped prisoner of war. He may be traveling with a young woman.”
Laura whispered, “I’m so sorry. You were right. We should have gone farther.”
Clenching his jaw, Alex hissed, “We may have to make a run for it. Or at least I will. You have done nothing wrong.”
“Except aiding and abetting you?”
“If need be, say I forced you to come.” He pulled on his boots and stepped to the room’s other window, this one facing the side of the inn. “I think I can lower myself to that porch roof and jump down from there.”
“I am going with you,” she whispered back.
“No.”
He grabbed for the window latch, and again the publican’s voice reached them from below. “We have no Frenchmen here. And our only female guest is a tetchy woman large with child, and woe to anyone who disturbs her slumber.”
“You sure?” the officer asked.
“’Course I’m sure. You’ve searched my establishment before and found nothing and angered my guests and my good wife to no purpose. You’ve cost me custom.”
The door to their room creaked open, and Laura barely stifled a gasp. Rennet slipped in, finger to her lips, candle lamp in her other hand. She beckoned them to follow her. They did so, tiptoeing to the far end of the room, to what looked like an ordinary wall. Her fingers worked some hidden latch, and a panel slid open. The flickering candlelight revealed a closet-sized compartment with several stacked half ankers and a crate of tea atop them. Smuggling contraband.
