The Winter Wife (4 page)

The reminder of the dance she’d led him made him respond in a clipped tone. “No, we’re going to Heseltine Hall near
Whitby.”

“
But you can leave me at the inn, can’t you?”

“
It’s a poor place. I couldn’t abandon a woman there without protection.” He tried, he really did, to keep the satisfaction from his voice, but he must have failed. He felt her tense against his back, although she couldn’t pull too far away without risking a fall.

“
And who’s going to protect me from you?” she muttered, almost as if to herself.

“
I mean you no harm.” For all their difficult
interactions, he’d only

ever wished her well. “You didn’t come all the way from London in

that spindly carriage, did you?”

“
It’s inappropriate to discuss my arrangement with Lord Harold,”

she said coldly.

He laughed again, against all sense, enchanted with her spirit. “Humor me.”

She sighed. “We traveled up separately to
York.” Her voice melted into sincerity and he tried not to respond to the husky sweetness. “I truly didn’t set out to cause a scandal.
You and I parted in rancor, but I have no ambition to damage you or your name.”

“
Whatever your attempts at discretion, you still meant to give

yourself to that puppy,” Kinvarra bit out, all amusement abruptly fled.

Alicia didn’t answer.

Chapter
Two

THE
WEATHER HAD worsened by the time they reached the inn. Alicia realized as they approached the ramshackle, rambling building that it was indeed the rough place Kinvarra had described. But just the prospect of shelter and a chance to rest her aching body was welcome. Surely Kinvarra couldn’t intend to ride on to his mysterious manor tonight when more snow fell every minute and their horse was blowing with exhaustion.

The earl dismounted and lifted her from the saddle. His hands were firm
around her waist and she struggled to ignore the thrill that sizzled through her traitorous body.
The lamps that lit the inn yard revealed that he looked tired and strangely, for a man who always seemed so indomitable, unhappy.

As he set her upon the cobblestones, his hands didn’t linger. She tried not to note that she’d touched Kinvarra more in the last few hours than she had since she’d left him. Nor did she wish to remember that hugging his strong back, she’d felt safer than she had in years.

“
Let’s get you into the warmth.” He gestured for her to precede him inside as a groom rushed to take their horse.

Alicia had expected her husband to spend the journey haranguing her for her wantonness—or at the very least her idiocy in setting out for the wilds of
Yorkshire in the depths of winter so ill prepared for disaster. But he’d remained quiet.

How she wished he’d berated her. She dearly needed to remember why she hated him. She’d spent a decade convincing herself

that leaving him had been her only choice of action.
A
moment’s unexpected kindness shouldn’t change that.

While his body offered a warm anchor and his adept hands

unerringly guided their horse toward sanctuary, resentment had proven fiendishly
difficult
to maintain.
And when she wasn’t constantly sniping at him, it became impossible to ignore his physical presence. His clean, male scent—horses, leather, soap, fresh air.
The muscles under her hands, hard even through his winter clothing. His lean strength.

Kinvarra had been a handsome boy. He’d become a splendid man. She’d forgotten how powerfully he affected her.
And the pity of

it was that she’d need far too long after this to forget again. He made

every other man pale into insignificance.

It was vilely irritating.

The rotund landlord greeted them at the door, clearly overwhelmed to have the quality on his humble premises.
The tap room was jammed to the rafters with people bundled up for an uncomfortable night on chairs and benches.
A
few hardy souls hunched near the fire
drinking and smoking. One table of revelers even defied
their circumstances and sang some carols in honor of the season.

Apart from a couple of serving maids,
Alicia was the only woman present. Self-consciously she drew her hood around her face as she shifted closer to the blaze.
The heat penetrated frozen extremities with painful force. Even molding herself to Kinvarra’s big, strong body, the ride had been frozen purgatory.

For all that she remained standing, she’d drifted into a half doze when she became aware of Kinvarra beside her. He spoke in a low voice to save them from eavesdroppers. “My lady, there’s a difficulty.”

Blinking, striving to regain alertness, she slowly turned to face him. “I’m happy to accept any accommodation. Surely you don’t plan to go on tonight.”

He shook his head. He’d taken off his hat and light sheened across his thick dark hair. “The weather will worsen before it improves. It would be cruel to force my horse back into the blizzard.
And there isn’t another village for miles.”

“
Then of course we’ll stay.”

His saturnine face was shuttered. “Are you sure?”

His hesitancy aroused misgivings. Her husband was never hesitant. “What is it?”

“
There’s only one room.”

One room? Dear heaven.
What a catastrophe.
Aghast, she stared at him. “Surely…surely you could sleep in the tap room.”

The moment she made the suggestion, she felt like the world’s most ungrateful creature. Her husband had rescued her in extremely good spirit, given the compromising situation he caught her in. He’d made

a few cutting remarks, but she’d deserved much worse. Like her, he was tired and cold and hungry. It wasn’t fair to consign him to a hard floor
and the company of a parcel of rustics, not to mention the vermin flourishing
on their unwashed persons.

His lips twisted in a wry smile. “As you can see, there’s no space. Even if there was, I won’t leave you on your own with the place full of God knows what ruffians.”

What on earth was going on here? He sounded protective.
When she knew he despised everything about her. “We can’t share a room.”

She’d suspect him of some trick, if she wasn’t sharply aware that he too recalled the misery of their time together at Balmuir House. He must be as eager as she for this night to end so they could both return to their separate lives. Kinvarra would never plot the seduction of his wife.

So what was his game?

His eyes glinted with sardonic amusement. “I don’t see why not.
We’re married. It’s too late to play Miss Propriety.
After all, you were about to hop into bed with Herbert.”

“
Harold,” she said automatically, avoiding his gaze. Sick

humiliation twisted her belly into knots. Here with Kinvarra, she didn’t feel brave and daring for taking a lover. Instead she felt grubby and small.

His features tightened into harshness. “Whatever the bugger’s name, I hope to hell he hasn’t sampled your favors already, or I’ll think even less of his stalwart behavior on the road.”

“
We hadn’t…we didn’t…” She stopped and glowered at him, furious. “That is none of your concern, my lord.”

But it was far too late.
Triumph lit Kinvarra’s face. Curse her for confessing that she was still to all intents faithful to him.
The cad didn’t deserve her fidelity.
He never had.

“
Can’t we hire a gig to take us to your manor?” she asked on a note

of desperation.

Now the prospect of staying at the inn wasn’t so welcome.
And not just because she’d have to share a room with her husband.
Tonight’s events left her too exposed to painful memories and present confusion. Easy to play the indifferent spouse when she met the earl for five minutes in a crowded ballroom. Much more difficult
when she’d just spent an hour cuddled up to him and he sounded like a reasonable

man instead of the spoiled, petulant boy she recalled from their brief cohabitation.

At least, thank heaven, he wouldn’t touch her, whatever silly suspicions entered her mind. She was safe from that.
The last time they exchanged more than bland public greetings, he’d made it obvious that he’d rather have a crocodile in his bed.

He shook his head. “There are none.
And even if there were, I’m not going to risk my neck—and yours—on a night like this. Face

it, madam, you’ve returned to the bonds of holy matrimony until tomorrow. I wager you’ll survive the experience.”

She wasn’t so sure. Leaving Kinvarra had nearly destroyed her.
All this propinquity now only reopened old wounds that had hardly healed since. But what choice did she have?

She raised her head and studied his striking face.
The black eyes were veiled. His expression indicated impatience with her havering and no hint of amorous intent. Of course there wasn’t. He didn’t want her. And nor, it seemed, did Harold. She’d been alone for so long. She’d never felt as alone as she did at this moment.

She didn’t try to hide her reluctance. “Very well.”

Kinvarra’s lips twitched at her lack of enthusiasm. “I’ll tell the landlord that we’ll take his last chamber.”

Shock held her silent as she realized how much he’d changed.
The man she’d married would have caviled at her unmannerly acceptance. Heavens, the man she’d married would have thrown a tantrum if she’d as much as glanced at another man, let alone eloped with him. Kinvarra hadn’t just grown into his looks, he’d grown into his power.

He bowed briefly
and strode away with a smooth, confident
gait. As a youth, he’d been almost sinfully beautiful with his black hair and glittering eyes, but the man of thirty-two was formidable and in

command of himself in a way his younger self had never been.

She watched him go, wanting to turn away but unable to shift her gaze.
What would she make of him if they met for the first
time now? Honesty compelled her to acknowledge she would probably like him. She’d certainly notice him—no woman could ignore such a handsome man with his air of authority and competence.

While admitting the fact made her skin itch with pique, she was glad Kinvarra had arrived to rescue her from that ditch. If she’d relied on Harold to solve their problems, she’d still be standing by the roadside.