Page 18 of Wickedly Yours
“That’s very kind.” If he thought she would throw a fit over sleeping in a parlor after all that had happened, Malden would be sadly disappointed.
A tiny frown etched his lips. “You don’t mind?” He sounded a bit incredulous as if he expected an argument from her. Possibly had they been here prior to her running off with Corbett, she may very well have objected. Her comfort, given the circumstances of the last few days, no longer seemed of the utmost importance.
“It is better than the barn, where you will be. Or are you planning on sleeping in the common room?” She asked sharply, panicked at the thought of having Malden in her direct vicinity. Arabella had hoped for some privacy.
Malden came up so close to Arabella their noses nearly touched. She could see the bits of gold and green circling his irises. The rough stubble of his chin was clearly visible.
“I am sleeping in the parlor. There are two chairs. You need not be concerned for your virtue. It will be quite safe.” He stood back and walked from the room not sparing her a backward glance.
13
Arabella held her hands out to the roaring fire in the small parlor the inn’s owner had led her to. Sparsely furnished, the room nonetheless was spotless and smelled pleasantly of lemon and beeswax. A vast improvement over the stale smell of the common room. Before the hearth sat two overstuffed chairs, the fabric covering them faded. Stuffing hung out the back of one and she saw the hint of a spring poking out of the other.
After bringing a basin of hot water, soap and a towel, the owner’s wife departed leaving Arabella in peace. The soap smelled vaguely of lye and the towel rough, but it was wonderful to feel somewhat clean. She longed for a bath, but such a luxury would have to wait.
Not certain when Malden would return, she hastily claimed the chair without the spring poking out. Despite the way the chairs looked, hers was remarkably comfortable and she sank into the cushions with a sigh. The fire was warm and cast a beautiful golden glow over the room. As she held out her hands to the flames Arabella had the most horrible urge to cry. She rarely cried, but then she was not herself.
Perhaps that was a good thing.
Corbett had terrified her. If he had succeeded in his quest to marry her, whether willingly or forced, Arabella had no doubt she would truly have put her in a sanitarium. She hugged her arms to herself, shivering at how close she had come to such an existence. Even more horrifying, she’d nearly condemned her sister-in-law to the same fate. All in her bid to protect her brother. How smug and self-righteous she’d been in assuming she was qualified to decide Nick’s fate for him.
“I’ve asked for dinner.” The door opened to reveal Malden. He stepped into the parlor wearing a clean shirt, still wearing his indecently tight breeches. She caught only a faint whiff of horse, but the aroma was mixed with soap. He hadn’t bothered to shave.
“I believe it will be roast. The innkeeper’s wife says there’s enough to go around.” He clapped his hands together in anticipation. Moving towards her, he spied the coiled spring sticking out of the empty chair.
“Comfortable?” A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
“Very.” She returned her gaze back to the fire deliberately stifling the urge to grin back at him. She wished Malden weren’t so attractive.
“I would have given you the better chair by the way.” A dark brow raised as he nodded at her. “You need not act so smug you’ve bested me somehow.”
Arabella relaxed, allowing herself to sink further into the deep hollow in the cushions, a testament to years spent sitting in front of the fire. What would that be like, she wondered, to spend a lifetime with someone? It was something she’d never truly considered.
I shall never know. The best I can hope for is not to be sent back to Twinings.
“Hungry?” Malden asked.
“Famished.”
A knock at the door was followed by the delicious odor of roast and freshly baked bread.
“I hope you’ll find the room comfortable.” The innkeeper entered the parlor followed by a buxom girl carrying two trays. In his arms he held two quilts. “Between these and the fire, you’ll be toasty warm my lord.”
“We are more than comfortable,” Malden said graciously. “I wish my own sitting room were half as welcoming.”
The man beamed at Malden’s praise. “It is my pleasure, my lord. There’s plenty of wood.” He nodded to the pile next to the fireplace. Polly has brought you something to eat.” He dipped his head in the direction of the girl bustling about to lay out the trays. “Roast is a specialty of my wife. And the bread is fresh baked. I hope it pleases you.”
“It smells wonderful,” Arabella interjected.
The innkeeper bowed and the girl dipped before bidding Arabella and Rowan a good night.
Rowan turned with a surprised look on his face. “Your courtesy surprises me.”
“I can be kind,” she insisted.
“Can you?” The words dangled in the air. “I’ve yet to experience such a thing.”
Did he truly find her so lacking in common decency? The thought pained her. She shouldn’t care what Malden thought of her. “I’ve heard stories of your charm and appeal amongst the women of theton. I fear it has been drastically over-inflated.”
