Page 104 of A Castaway in Cornwall
He handed Alexander the key. “Top of the stairs, first door on your right.”
Alex took Laura’s bag and gestured toward the landing. “After you.”
Reaching the room, he unlocked it, and Laura entered first. Alexander closed the door but remained near it. In a low voice, he said, “Pray forgive my presumption. I was afraid the man would put us out if he knew we were not husband and wife traveling together.”
“You were right. Good thinking.”
Setting down their bags, he said, “I will wait awhile, then go downstairs to the taproom and find a quiet corner there.”
She looked from the beds to him. “No need. There are two beds, as he said, and I trust you.”
“Do you?”
She paused to consider. “Yes, I find that I do.”
“Very well.”
A knock on the door startled them both. When they didn’t respond, a woman’s voice called, “Your supper.”
“Oh. Right.” Alex turned and opened the door.
A chambermaid in her early thirties came in and set the tray down on the dressing table, whipping off a linen cloth with dramatic flair. “Wah-la!” she exclaimed, mispronouncing the French.
Alex cringed and corrected, “It isvoilà.”
“What?”
“Never mind. Thank you.” He handed the woman a coin from his earnings. “Might you help my missus with whatever she needs while we’re here?”
With an eager glance at the gleaming coin, the maid replied, “Happily, sir. I’ll come back in half an hour to collect the tray and shall help her then, if that suits.”
“Yes,” Laura replied, thankful for Alexander’s thoughtfulness. “That would be perfect, Miss...?”
“You may call me Rennet, ma’am.” The maid performed a deep, stage-worthy curtsy and slipped from the room.
At the woman’s theatrical exit, Laura and Alex shared amused grins.
Then Laura looked at him with a mixture of wonder and gratitude. “You think of everything.”
His eyes glimmered with sadness. “I only wish that were true.”
Alexander hoped Laura would not come to regret traveling with him, but feared she would. He gestured for her to take the seat at the dressing table, while he sat on the only other chair in the room. She handed him one of the bowls of stew and a spoon, and they began eating.
The tender chunks of beef, carrots, and onions in rich gravy were delicious and warming, reminding him of his father’s favorite, beefbourguignon.
They ate in silence, an awkward tension between them. They had spent many hours in the guest room in Fern Haven and had shared the same cabin on the ship, though they had rarely been alone, with the crew sleeping in shifts.
They were certainly alone now. Was that why this felt so different? So ... dangerous?
When they finished eating, Laura stacked the used bowls and cutlery and set the tray aside. The uneasy silence stretched.
Laura reached up and began unpinning her hair. “I hope you don’t mind. The pins are digging into my scalp.”
“I don’t mind at all.”
Her long hair cascaded down around her shoulders in a veil of autumn colors—deep amber, cinnamon, maple leaves. His chest tightened.
She massaged her scalp, and his fingers itched to stroke the silky length.
