Lettie was the only woman who interested him.
To his relief, Lettie simply smiled and nodded to the innkeeper. She then placed her hand on Brynne’s forearm so that he could escort her into a private dining room where they would be away from the more boisterous crowd in the common room.
“I’ll have Meg fetch you some ale. Or would you prefer coffee or tea, m’lady? It’s raw weather today. You’ll be needing a room if the rain doesn’t end soon. Between the melting snow and now this downpour, the roads will be thick with mud and impassable.”
Lettie once again smiled her sweetest smile. “That would be wonderful, Mr. Fenwick.”
Brynne glanced at her. Was she referring to the hot drink? Or sharing quarters with him… which wasn’t going to happen. He’d sleep in the stable. Or in the carriage. Or out in the rain.
He’d sleep anywhere that Lettie wasn’t.
His stomach growled again.
This time it was his hunger for Lettie that stirred his craving. He watched with ravenous interest as she arched her shouldersand removed her gray woolen cloak to reveal the gentle curves of her body hidden beneath a forest green gown. Her gloves and the small feather in her hat were the same forest green. But he wasn’t looking at her gloves or hat.
He was looking at her body and the graceful way it moved beneath that woolen gown.
She was the only thing he wanted.
And the one thing he could never have.
He shook off the discouraging thought. This was precisely why he had to leave England, to get as far away from Lettie as possible.
He shrugged out of his wet cloak and then set his cloak and hers on hooks beside the hearth to dry. Mr. Fenwick had stoked the fire to a roar so that the room was now warm and the dampness gone from it. Lettie came up beside him and held her small hands close to the fire to ease their chill. She’d removed her hat and gloves and left them on a nearby chair.
The top of her head barely came up to his shoulder.
She was so slight and slender, and yet he felt himself yielding to her. Unbidden, his body leaned toward hers so that her shoulder almost grazed his arm. He caught the scent of lavender soap on her skin, light and fragrant, not at all overpowering.
But then she didn’t need to use force or fists or feminine wiles to conquer him. She had defeated him long ago with no weapon other than her gentle smile. He glanced at her and saw that her lips were pursed again. “What’s on your mind, Lettie?”
She stared into the fire’s glow, the reds and golds of her neatly bound hair shining as they captured the fiery light. “I saw a bloody battle. What do you think it means?”
He shrugged. “Nothing.”
“It must mean something. A terrible fight took place.”
“Very well, it’s a premonition of me kicking Jeremiah’s ass.” He didn’t believe in angels, but Lettie certainly believed in them.He also knew she wasn’t daft, although he’d teased her about it earlier. Perhaps she did havethe sight. That seemed to be the most logical explanation, if visions and conversations with unearthly beings could ever be considered logical.
“Don’t tease me. I saw men sprawled across a blood-slicked field. Some dead and some wounded. I know it is somehow connected to you.” She edged closer and looked up at him, her expression revealing everything that was in her heart.
He felt his resolution waning. One caress. One kiss. No one would be harmed. “Lettie, I–”
Mr. Fenwick and Meg, the serving maid, marched in with platters of stew, hot bread, mulled wine for him, and coffee forhis wife.
“Will ye be needin’ anything else, my lord?”
“No, Mr. Fenwick.” He hadn’t bothered to correct the man about his proper title either. They would receive better service as long as the man thought he was someone of importance. “You’ve taken quite good care of us.”
Brynne escorted Lettie to her chair and took the one opposite hers, relieved that the width of the small table now separated them.
The innkeeper and Meg finished setting out their plates and pouring Lettie’s coffee. “Then I’ll leave ye to yer privacy.”
They were about to shut the door behind them when Brynne called after them. “Keep the door open.”
The pair appeared surprised. “As ye wish,” Mr. Fenwick said with a shrug and shook his head, his thoughts obvious. No man in his right mind would give up a chance for privacy with a young woman as beautiful as Lettie.
“You could have let him shut it,” Lettie said, frowning at Brynne when they were once more alone.
