Page 34 of In Want of a Wife
Her mother thought her interesting once. After her death, Lily only remembered her father seeking to place more and more distance between himself and his only daughter. She barely recognized him now. Kate and Charlotte supported her but often tried to manage her as if she were a child about to cause mayhem. And her stepmother and stepsisters? Well, they didn’t wish for her to be around either.
What if the same were true for her new husband?
She splashed water onto her face and unpinned her hair, quickly brushing it out before undressing down to her stays and opening the trunk to change into her nightgown.
“Horse feathers!”
Lily grabbed the first item in the pile, threw it on, then opened her door and peeked down the hallway. She rushed next door and pounded on Rafe’s door, shutting her eyes and hoping he wasn’t still down in the tavern drinking.
She heard the door crack open, then she popped one eye open.
“What are…”
Rafe grabbed her, hauling her through his door. She sputtered, shaking off his grasp as she stood in his room, shaking.
“We lost luggage.” She crossed her arms, hiding what she could of her body from him.
“Sorry?”
It was then she noticed the Welsh lilt in his voice. He was drunk.
Goodness.
“I was preparing for bed and…” She waved her hands, gesturing at the man’s shirt she was wearing. “The trunk in my room doesn’t belong to me.”
Rafe stumbled back a step, his eyes meeting hers before glancing down the length of her body with hooded eyes.
She felt the heat bite her cheeks, and if it didn’t feel so much as if she had just swallowed a jar of butterflies, she might have been angrier at the way he looked at her then. But she had spent years asking for someone to look at her, truly look at her as he just had.
Lily cleared her throat, and Rafe blinked, diverting his gaze. “Maybe there was a mistake, and your trunk is in another room. I’ll find out.” He reached around her for his jacket hanging on the back of a chair and tossed it around her shoulders. The giant garment enveloped her. “In the meantime, I think it best you head back to your room.”
His jacket was still warm, still smelled of ale and cinnamon and bay rum.
She fought the urge to nuzzle her cheek against the collar to be closer to the fine fabric.
He gestured for her to follow, and she did, sneaking out into the hallway before dashing into her room.
“I will be back shortly. Stay here.”
The door closed behind him, and she plopped back onto the bed, sinking deep into the old feather mattress. It felt like hours before there was a short rap at the door. She jumped to her feet and pulled Rafe’s jacket around her tightly, cracking the door open.
“No trunk?”
He shook his head. “No, sorry. No other guests have reported a mix up. Which means it must have been left behind at the last inn.”
For a moment, it was as if the room spun. Or perhaps she needed to sit.
Gone.
Her trousseau was in that trunk. Her clothes. She was to meet her new husband in the same dress she wore today and nothing else.
Lily quickly brushed the back of her hand across her eyes as theedges of the room blurred. A quick burst of cold swept over her body, and she felt suddenly adrift.
“Very well.”
“Don’t cry,” he said.
Lily nodded, tears burning her eyes.
