Chapter Twelve #2
“We’ve naught but the one room to let, my lady,” said a woman who was just as ancient as the gentleman.
“You and your husband can have it. Your servants can sleep here by the fire with our lad.” She offered an apologetic shake of her head.
“Me and my man here be too old to sleep on the floor. Wouldn’t be able to fetch you a decent breakfast in the morning, if’n we did.
Hope you understand how we can’t be givin’ up our bed. ”
“The one room will be fine, my good woman,” Jansen said. “Thank you. Might you show us to it and send up some hot water and food when you get the chance?”
“Right away, my lord,” she said, and Jansen didn’t correct her.
Joy’s cheeks burned with a fire like they had never known before. One room? One bed? With Jansen? All night?
“Oh dear, my lady,” the elderly matron said, pausing as she walked past her. “I hope you do not mind my saying that you look as if you might be coming down with a fever. Them cheeks of yours are mighty red. Shall I send up a tonic as well? I have a grand one, if I do say so myself.”
Joy swallowed hard, then nodded, not fully trusting her voice. “That would be lovely,” she finally forced out.
The way station’s keeper picked up a candlestick and waved for them to follow him up a rickety set of stairs.
When they reached the top, he pushed open a door and stepped back.
“It ain’t much, but Mrs. Mosely keeps it good and clean, and it be dry and warm.
The hearth’s already laid for a fire. All you need do is light it. ”
Jansen took the key from him. “It is more than ample, good sir. Thank you. And please let the others in our party know we made it here.”
“Happy to, my lord. Good evening to you. The water and food will be up shortly.”
“Thank you again, sir.”
Once inside, Joy had no idea what to say. This was sin itself. She was in a room with a bed. With a man. And it was nearly nightfall.
She went to the small window centered in the gable of the roof’s sloped ceiling. “I should not be here,” she whispered, staring out into the inky darkness. “Flora should be with me.”
“They think we are married,” Jansen gently reminded her. “And should we ever come this way again, we will be.”
“But what will Flora think when she arrives?”
“Flora will be thankful to be in the warm and the dry, and that her mistress is safe.” The floorboards creaked as he moved closer, making her jump. He halted. “I will neither harm you nor force myself on you, my love. I simply wanted us to be together—safe and dry on this terrible night.”
Heart beating so wildly she almost couldn’t speak, she bit her bottom lip again as she turned and eyed him. How could a man as wet as a drowned rat still be so devilishly tempting and handsome? A shudder rippled through her.
Jansen jerked as if suddenly awakening from a dream. “You must be cold. Let me get the fire started to warm you.”
She was by no means freezing with the cold, but his lighting the fire at least gave them both something to focus on other than the bed tucked up against the wall beneath the eave.
There was a low dressing cabinet beside it, bearing a pitcher and bowl.
Two straight-backed chairs sat against the wall with a small, round table between them.
She caught a glimpse of the chamber pot under the bed.
Oh, dear heavens. How on earth would she ever manage whenever she needed to relieve herself, and why the devil had she drunk so much of that infernal cider at the last stop?
“There now.” Jansen rose, staring down at the crackling fire with pride. “Thank goodness the proprietors saw fit to keep the wood dry and at the ready.”
“Yes. It is very nice.” She drew closer, unable to resist the warmth of the golden flames. “Thank you.”
“I will always take care of you, my angel. Always.”
She pulled in a deep, shuddering breath before risking a glance his way. “I know you will,” she whispered.
A knock at the door made them both jump.
“Sir Jansen?”
Jansen strode to the door. “Copper. Thank goodness you made it all right. How did the team fare?”
“All tucked away for the night, sir.” But the coachman shuffled from side to side, obviously worried.
“What is it, man?”
Copper glanced Joy’s way and slowly shook his head. “No sign of Miss Flora or your Jasper, my lady. Me and the lad backtracked quite a ways after we got the horses settled, and we didn’t find them anywhere.”
“They couldn’t have just sunk into the mud and disappeared,” Joy said, panic rising.
“No, my lady. Certainly not. They must have had to stop a lot earlier than we did. Mayhap the road got blocked. Trees down or some such thing. Leastwise there is no bridge or sides of a river to collapse. I feel sure they be fine. We just won’t see them till the storm stops, and all is calm.
” He looked at Jansen, then back at her.
“Probably won’t see them until tomorrow sometime. ”
“Tomorrow?”
“Yes, my lady. I am afraid so.”
Joy pulled in another shuddering breath and held it, determined to remain strong. There really wasn’t anything all that wrong with this. After all, she and Jansen were engaged. Why, if they had gotten a special license, they could have even been married by now.
“Thank you, Copper,” she said softly, praying the man wouldn’t think her a lowly lightskirt.
“Thank you, Copper,” Jansen repeated. “Go get yourself some food, man, and try to dry out.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you.”
Joy stared down at the fire as the door closed with a soft thump.
“Once our hot water and food arrive, we shall get out of these wet clothes,” Jansen said.
“What?” She cringed at the squeak in her voice, swallowed hard, and tried again. “Beg pardon, I mean?”
“If we remove our clothes, they will dry quicker by the fire. We can wrap ourselves in the blankets. There appear to be several on the bed.”
“I see.” Dare she admit that his reasoning disappointed her? She almost gasped aloud. Perhaps she was an immoral lightskirt at heart.
*
Go slowly. Jansen struggled to heed the sage warning.
If he frightened her, he would be sleeping on the floor, and he wanted to share that bed with her, his precious Joy, his angel.
Yes, he knew it was wrong, but he didn’t care.
He’d ached for her forever, and fate had seen fit to drop this opportunity into his lap.
He’d be damned if he let it go to waste.
And maybe then she would set a much closer date for their wedding out of fear she might be with child.
He smiled to himself. With any luck, and even more providence, she would be with child by the time this night was over.
Gads, he wanted her more than he had ever wanted a woman in his life. But it was more than a matter of wanting her body. He wanted her—all of her. To be joined forevermore, body and soul.
He added more wood to the fire, then pulled the straight-backed chairs in front of it and gently helped her sit. “The water should be here soon,” he told her again. The way she stared into the flames worried him. It was almost as if she wasn’t really there. “Joy?”
“Yes?” She turned, met his gaze, and smiled. “I heard you. It…it is just that I am getting warmer, and I find the blaze mesmerizing. Silly, I know.”
“Nothing about you is silly, my love.”
Her smile faded but didn’t disappear completely as she returned her focus to the fire. “I hope Flora and Jasper are all right.”
“They are more than likely taking shelter in the coach. I am sure they will be fine.” He wasn’t sure of that at all. So many things could happen, but he wasn’t about to fuel her worries with stories of horrible carriage accidents during weather like this.
After another knock on the door that made them both jump, two steaming kettles of hot water sat on the dresser, along with a bucket on the floor for the discarded water.
The tiny table in the corner groaned beneath the weight of cold meats, cheeses, and crusty bread.
Two bottles of wine sat on the floor against the wall, since there was no room on the table, and a tray with a small, cracked teacup and an ominous-smelling pot of something awaited Joy on the floor at the foot of the bed.
Jansen sniffed at it again and barely held back a gag. “I do not recommend drinking that unless you fear yourself at death’s door. Who knows what old family recipe the matron used to make that noxious substance? It is black as ink, too.”
“Is it really?” Joy was rooted to the same spot beside the fire, making Jansen wonder what it would take to get her to relax.
Wine. Wine might help her relax. He hurried to pour them both a glass.
“Oh my goodness,” she said after her first sip. “Elderberry. My favorite.”
Jansen took that as another good omen.
Lightning flashed again, and thunder rattled the window, as if reminding him that fate was in charge here.
“Shall I help you with your dress?” he asked quietly. “Rivers are still running off your skirts. I am surprised if you can feel any heat at all.” He felt heat, but it had nothing to do with the fire. “And you are still wearing your bonnet.”
She removed the bedraggled thing and hung it on a nail in the wall. “Poor bonnet. I hope Flora can save it.” She winced, then looked up at him with heart-wrenching worry. “She has to be all right, Jansen. She is not just a maid. She is my friend.”
“Jasper will keep her safe. You know that.” He went to her and nodded at the buttons on the front of her high-waisted traveling dress, the outermost layer of her ensemble. “If you will remove that, I shall try to find another nail on which to hang it.”
“Thank you,” she whispered, then bent her head to stare at the tiny buttons on the bodice. Her fingers trembled as she attempted to undo them.
He itched to help her, but didn’t dare. Not yet. He had to be patient.
She handed it over and kept her head bowed.