Chapter Five
Christmas Eve
Julia woke up in the early morning feeling overheated. Huffing, she threw off her coverlet, only to realise that the cause of her discomfort was the large, handsome man who still slept soundly beside her. Although her thin sheet separated them, his body gave off heat like a stove.
Devin had lied.
He was touching her. Or at least the entire side of his body was pressed up against hers most agreeably—annoyingly.
Whichever word applied, Julia felt very hot and bothered.
She’d never slept in the same bed as a man before and her curiosity threatened to overcome her good judgement.
His facial features were softer as he slept—highlighted by the sunrise and the dim light of their dying fire.
Julia’s hands began to shake with the overwhelming need to touch him.
To feel his hot skin against hers. She wondered what it would be like to be kissed by Devin.
To have his strong arms around her and to bury her face in his broad chest. She lifted her hand to touch him but paused over his rising and falling chest.
What if he were to wake up?
Or, worse, move back over to his side of the bed?
Julia liked having his body close to hers—for safety. Shoulder to shoulder. Arm to arm. Torso to torso. Leg to leg. She dared not shift or move a muscle which might cause him to turn away from her.
She tried to go back to sleep, but now that she was awake, Julia felt quite hungry and altogether aware of the man sleeping beside her.
Not that she regretted not eating the slop that had been served at supper.
It had been inedible, but clearly Mr Peebles was not to be trusted in the kitchen and since his wife was away, Julia would have to take charge of breakfast. Thanks to Mrs Heap, she was able to boil eggs, make bread, and assist in simple meals.
When Julia had balked at being treated like a kitchen maid, Mrs Heap had threatened to throw her out on her ear.
Rubbing her ear with her free hand, Julia swore that never again would she allow someone to have so much power over her—including her tyrant of a father. And certainly not Devin.
If she stayed beside him much longer, she might lose control of her body.
Julia got out of bed. She resolutely did not look at Devin’s face while he was sleeping.
Therefore she did not see his hair charmingly mussed and a stupid, open-mouth expression that was somehow warming her belly.
No, she took off her nightgown and put on her stays, yesterday’s now dry gown, an apron and her mother’s chatelaine.
This dress was her warmest and this inn felt chilly.
Julia was tempted to leave her hair down just to taunt Devin, but she plaited it instead so that it would not get in the way of her cooking.
Slipping into her shoes, Julia decided that since it was Christmas Eve, she would be generous. So before leaving, she added two more logs to the dying fire. No doubt her act of kindness would irk Devin more than her insults had.
Julia went down the stairs and found Peebles in the kitchen.
The stove was lit and he was boiling a pot of water—that could be helpful.
Still, the wooden countertops were covered in dried bits of food from the night before and Julia would not trust herself to eat from any dish that Peebles had washed.
As if by instinct, Mr Peebles held up his hands when he saw her, then swept her an exaggerated bow. ‘Mrs Ballantine, how may I help you?’
She shook her head. ‘I thought perhaps that I might help you.’
His eyebrows raised and he stroked his dirty red beard. ‘You know how to cook, ma’am?’
‘A little. Would you please pour that boiling water in the basin and I shall wash the dishes. Then you can fetch me eggs, flour, yeast and salt. Now, please tell me that you have butter.’
Devin woke up with a start. Instinctively he reached across the bed for Julia, but she wasn’t there.
Had Pip or Rhys kidnapped her in the night?
His pulse quickened and he threw off his coverlet, getting to his feet ready to do battle for her life.
Blinking, he noticed that her stays and gown were no longer hanging near the healthy fire—Julia must have added logs to it.
If she had been in trouble, the irascible young lady would not have stopped to make sure that he was warm.
Devin sat back down on the bed and released a long sigh.
Julia must have already gone downstairs for breakfast. She had not eaten a bite the night before.
His eyes went back to the hearth where his clothing was hung up in an orderly fashion. Why had she stoked the fire? He had certainly given her no reason to be kind to him.
What sort of game was she playing?
Was the vixen trying to entrap a second Ballantine brother with her wiles, only to discard him again?
Well, Devin was not about to fall into her traps. Nor be swayed by the gentle swell of her hips and the sweet curves of her bosom.
No.
He would treat her with common courtesy and no more. Julia Sullivan wasn’t worth his jibes, he reminded himself. The way she had treated his brother showed him that she was beneath him.
Oh dear, that was not a good phrase for him to imagine first thing in the morning.
Luckily, the air was mighty cold when he stripped bare and put on his fresh clothing.
He took out his toothbrush and paste and cleaned his teeth, before brushing his hair.
Not that he was trying to impress anyone—especially not Julia. It was merely good hygiene.
Devin made sure that his purse was in his coat pocket when he left his room.
He would be a fool to leave it unattended with two thieves in the inn—even in its secret compartment.
He walked to the end of the hall and stopped when he reached the door of Rhys and Pip.
Holding still and quiet, he heard two very distinct snores.
One was short and staccato. The other long like a bullhorn.
At least if they were asleep he didn’t have to worry about their shenanigans yet.
When he reached the bottom of the stairs, he saw Mr Mack sitting next to his daughter near the hearth, while Mrs Mack was setting the table.
Devin was about to ask where his wife was—where Julia was—when she opened the door to the kitchen carrying a tray of boiled eggs in decorative bowls.
He watched silently as she set two eggs in front of each mismatched chair.
The vixen had surprised him again. Not only did she know how to cook, she had made the effort to prepare all of the passengers a meal.
Not just herself. Those were not the actions of a selfish person.
Could he have been wrong about her personality?
Perhaps she had been too young to understand the ramifications of her actions when she jilted Joshua?
‘Ah, Devin, you’re finally awake,’ she said with a sly smile that made his neck stiffen. ‘I thought that you were going to be snoring logs until the afternoon at least.’
Any kind thoughts he had entertained about this saucy woman fled his mind. ‘You can’t blame a man for sleeping in, when his wife mumbles and makes noises all night long.’
Devin saw red blotches form on her cheeks. Probably because Julia knew that he was not lying. The woman did talk in her sleep. She’d awoken Devin more than once. She hadn’t shut up, until he’d snuggled up beside her.
Mrs Mack gave a high nervous laugh. ‘Is there anything else that I can help you with, Mrs Ballantine?’
His body had a visceral reaction to Julia being called by his surname. His teeth clenched and his chest tightened, as did other unfortunate areas.
Julia turned away from him, which was a relief. ‘Yes, Mrs Mack. I am going to slice the bread. Can you check the jam and butter that Peebles found to make sure that they aren’t spoiled? The proprietor is as helpless as my husband when it comes to domestic matters.’
Devin grabbed the sides of his face but managed to keep his tongue between his teeth. He took a deep breath before asking, ‘And how may I assist you, dearest wife?’
‘By falling off the nearest cliff,’ Julia said without missing a beat. ‘But at the moment, glasses of milk would be much appreciated. Make sure that you use the cups that are still wet. I washed them thoroughly this morning with boiling water and soap—I would not trust the other tumblers.’
He tipped his head slightly to one side. ‘You washed the dishes with your hands?’
Laughing at his question, Julia wiggled her delicate hand that was not holding the tray. ‘It would have been much more difficult to wash them with my feet, and less clean too.’
Mrs Mack giggled again, a high and grating sound.
Raising her eyebrows, Julia walked past him and back into the kitchen. Mrs Mack followed her, still chortling.
Mr Mack snorted and patted his little daughter’s brown curls. ‘Never underestimate what a woman can do or the reasons for her actions.’
Devin’s temper boiled like a kettle of water. Who was this man to give him advice on treating a woman, when he was hardly a stellar husband himself? Not that Devin was a husband or that Julia was his wife. But the point remained the same. Mr Mack was hardly a deft hand with women either.
The man continued as if not noticing the freezing glare that Devin had directed at him. ‘I have found that a humble apology goes a long way. I gave one this morning after my irritable behaviour yesterday.’
Devin raised his eyebrows. ‘And she frankly forgave you?’
‘Instead of telling my wife what to do, I asked what she needed me to do and she told me.’ Mr Mack lifted his daughter onto his knee and bounced her.
‘My wife needs me to take care of Lizzy today because holding her is hurting her back… No marriage is perfect, Mr Ballantine, or family for that matter, but I wake up every day determined to do better and I think it does make a difference.’
‘Faster, horsey!’ Lizzy said in a loud voice.
Chuckling, Mr Mack jiggled his leg even quicker.
Stewing like the smelly soup from the night before, Devin entered the kitchen to see that Julia had transformed the dirty room into a clean space with wonderfully smelling fresh-baked bread on the counter.
He located the wet glasses in the drying rack and carefully carried four of them to the table in the taproom, before returning for an additional five tumblers.
He found fresh milk in a bucket by the door of the kitchen but assumed that Julia would not wish for him to pour a bucket at the table.
He located a pitcher and dumped the milk into it, then returned to the taproom and carefully filled each cup.
The smell of good food must have awakened not only the pair of thieves but the driver as well.
Everyone in the inn, save for Joe who was sick, sat down for breakfast together.
Unbidden, Devin felt a bout of pride that Julia had prepared a meal with such meagre resources.
His eggs were perfectly boiled and the bread was soft and delicious.
Not a slice was left at the end of the meal.
‘What an excellent repast, Mrs Ballantine,’ Mr Mack said but pointedly looked at Devin as he spoke. Like the man expected Devin to compliment the woman he thought was his wife.
Julia smiled and Devin felt a flash of annoyance. ‘I couldn’t have done so without the help of your wife. Thank you, Mrs Mack.’
Devin was in no mood for niceties. ‘Mr Denard, do you need help freeing the carriage this morning? I should be happy to assist you, so that we might continue onto Pickwich as soon as possible.’ He glanced at the other passengers. ‘And the other destinations, in time for Christmas tomorrow.’
Mr Mack looked out the window. ‘The snowstorm has finally stopped. Do you have a sleigh, Mr Peebles?’
The mail coach driver spoke before the innkeeper could. ‘Can’t depart today. Joe is too sick to get out of his bed this morning. We can’t leave until tomorrow at the earliest and only then if every man here does his duty and helps clear the roads.’
Mr Peebles cleared his throat and tugged at his buttered beard. ‘I should like to help, Mr Denard, but I must spend the afternoon preparing supper.’
‘Nonsense, Mr Peebles,’ Julia chirped from Devin’s side. ‘Every woman in this room knows her duty too and will ensure that the meal is prepared and edible.’
Devin snorted but managed to keep in his guffaw.
Mr Denard and Mr Mack made no such attempt.
But it was truly Julia who got the last laugh, for she made all the men clear the breakfast table and scrub the dishes with hot water and soap as she watched them closely.
And then she gave Mr Peebles a broom and instructed him to sweep out the taproom.
After tidying up, Devin returned to their shared room and put on his overcoat, hat, scarf and heavy boots. It was going to be a miserable day. As he passed Julia in the narrow hall, their shoulders brushed and she jumped away from him as if scorched by a flame.
‘Try not to miss me, wife.’
‘Believe me, I won’t, husband,’ she said and shot him a cheeky smile that kept him warm for the rest of the afternoon.