Chapter 4 #2
The innkeeper leaned in helpfully. “Spooning. When one of ye curls around the other one like two spoons in a drawer, aye? Only ye’re likely used to it, being newlyweds and all.”
“Did we actually tell him we were newlyweds?” Helena whispered.
Hunter grinned, his face now completely out of his control. “We’re verra convincing.”
“Aye, I ken newlyweds when I see them. Cannae keep yer hands off each other, that much is obvious.”
Helena yanked her arm from Hunter’s, who finally allowed his chuckles free. “Lead the way to our room, sir.”
The room was the last one left, tucked away under the eaves in the back of the upper level.
This was a good thing as far as Hunter was concerned; anyone trying to reach Helena would have to sneak along a long hallway, and he’d be sure to hear them.
Still, he made certain the door locked well, there was a handy chest of drawers that could be dragged across the door, and the window didn’t have any easy handholds within reach before he agreed to the innkeeper’s price.
“Careful to keep your lady-love safe,” the older man chuckled. “I’ve seen yer types before. Likely on some sort of adventure, eh? Well, the food and bath will be up shortly, so enjoy yourselves.”
The door shut behind him, and Helena heaved a sigh of relief. “I did not realize one man could wink so much! Or was he just blinking incredibly slowly? Half of what he was saying made no sense.”
Hunter’s brows rose. Could she really be so innocent? But she was a married woman, was she not?
She’s been away from her husband for years. Perhaps she’s just forgotten.
Forgotten the pleasures of the marriage bed? Forgotten what the innkeeper was joking about?
Hmmm. Perhaps her husband was a cad who hadn’t cared to teach her such things.
Before Hunter could decide how to respond the door opened again, and in bustled three young ladies and a plump housewife who could only be Mrs. Innkeeper.
She carried a tray of food, and she instructed one of the others—who all looked enough alike to be her daughters—to set the small table under the window.
Meanwhile the other two arranged a small basin with hot water, soap and towels.
“You need anything else, you two lovebirds, just say the word.” The older woman winked just as lewdly as her husband. “We can fetch ye whatever ye need, though I’m guessing you’ve already got all you desire here!”
Her daughters giggled as they all trooped out again.
Helena just looked confused.
Oh Lord. Hunter cleared his throat. “Would ye like to dine first?”
“Honestly, I am exhausted and sweaty and dirty. I would love to wash before the water grows cold.”
Since she was already stripping off her gloves and crossing to the basin, Hunter nodded and stepped respectfully toward the door. As she bent over the basin to wash the road dust from her face, he told himself it wasn’t right to stare at her arse.
Which didn’t stop him from doing it.
Damnit. She was an enigma, this employer of his.
A married woman who blushed like a virgin. A delicate lady who stomped across the Highlands after facing an assassination attempt. An intelligent and accomplished woman who nonetheless relied on her husband’s advice from hundreds of miles away.
And she had a gorgeous arse, too.
Hunter forced himself to turn away, reaching for the door. “I’m…I’m going to go arrange some transportation for tomorrow. I’ll keep my head low, and see if I hear anything about the man who tried to hurt ye. We’re miles from Killin, but news travels fast in the Highlands.”
“I will change while you are gone.” Her voice was soft and she didn’t look up from her reflection in the basin.
The thought of that traveling gown sliding over her bare shoulders, pooling around her feet to reveal inches and inches of warm delicate skin…Hunter didn’t groan, but his fingers tightened around the door knob. “Then I’ll get a drink downstairs and ye can take yer time.”
After I find the nearest body of cold water to dunk myself into.
Or one particular part of himself, at least.
He was pulling open the door when her words stopped him.
“Wait. I—I need you.”
Hunter’s eyes fluttered shut and he dropped his forehead to the heavy oak door. His, “What?” was a little strangled.
“This gown…I can handle the lower buttons myself, but Mister is the one who got me into it this morning. Goodness, I hope she is all right. Would you mind?”
Holy Christ.
She wanted him to undress her.
“I’ll fetch the innkeeper’s wife.”
When Helena spoke, he could tell she’d moved behind him. “Hunter, she will be busy. This will take two minutes of your life, and then I can finally get this off me and wash. If you had any idea what it was like to have to wear a corset all day, you would have pity on me.”
Having heard the same complaint from his sister and cousins, Hunter surrendered. “I have nae retort when it comes to the patriarchy,” he mumbled under his breath as he turned. “Next ye’ll be demanding pockets.”
“Indeed.” Helena turned, presenting her back and the long line of buttons that started up by her neck. “Speaking of being able to carry things easily…have I bothered to thank you for carrying my valise today?”
Perhaps the small talk would keep his mind off what he had to do. Hunter lifted his fingers to the first button. “Nay,” he rasped. “But I didnae mind.” Why the shite were these damned things so small? His thick, callused fingers weren’t made to unbutton something so fine and delicate.
Wouldn’t it just be easier to wrench the thing off her body?
“Well, I appreciate it.”
What was she talking about? Och, aye, the bag.
“If you had not thought to grab it, I would be forced to wear this blasted gown until we manage to make it to Islay.”
The first button popped free, and the second was a little easier. The third went easily as well, revealing smooth dark skin over her upper back. Hunter swallowed, utterly distracted but aware that a conversation required at least two people.
“Some…someone at Stroken will lend ye clothing. My Aunt Kit is near yer size, and she hates wearing gowns anyhow.” The fourth and fifth buttons undid to reveal her chemise, and Hunter breathed a sigh of relief that this skin was covered, at least. “Uncle Thorne will find a way to get us to Islay safely and quickly.”
Her chin appeared over her shoulder, a smile on her lips as she tried to watch his progress. “That is wonderful! I did not realize, when you were speaking of your extended family, that that is who we were visiting!”
Visiting? This was hardly a social call. His fingers had now reached the middle of her back, and he could see the curve of her corset and her waist beneath it. Hunter couldn’t decide if this was better or worse than her bare skin.
Either way his fingers flew, having learned the trick to the bloody buttons. What had they been speaking of? His family. Right. “Uncle Thorne is a powerful man; he’ll ken what to do about the bastards chasing ye.”
The last button popped free and unable to help himself, Hunter’s hands rose to her upper back. Without thinking, he slid his palms beneath her gown—her skin warm against his—and slipped them over her shoulders. Her fingers met his to grip the material against her…
She wasn’t breathing.
For that matter, neither was he.
Almost as if his actions were out of his control, Hunter slowly leaned down and pressed his lips to the bare skin at the base of her neck, noting the way she shuddered.
In that moment, it mattered nothing to him that she was married, had a husband waiting for her on a distant shore; she was clearly new to pleasure and he ached to be the one to introduce her to it.
Helena Lickfold tasted of salt and honey and whisky, and he wanted more.
“Hunter…” she whispered.
And reality crashed back into him.
He jerked upright, pulling away from her, stumbling toward the door.
He had no right to kiss her like that.
He was just her hired husband.