Chapter 17
By the time evening settled over the village, the storm had only grown fiercer. Rain battered the tavern roof with relentless force, and wind howled through every crack in the shutters. Even Baird admitted there was no hope of riding back to the castle until morning.
And so, a room had been secured.
A shared room.
Davina stood inside it now, staring at the bed in the corner as though it personally intended to ruin her life.
It was small… laughably so. It was a bed built for two only in the most optimistic sense: narrow, short, with a mattress that sagged in the middle like it had surrendered years ago.
Baird closed the door behind them and set down their things. “It’s nae ideal,” he admitted, shrugging off his damp cloak. “But it’s the only room they had.”
Davina crossed her arms, unable to tear her gaze from the bed’s pitiful width. “Couldnae ye have gotten us two rooms?”
His brows rose. “There was only this one left. And Davina, we’ve been sharing a bed fer days now.”
She turned toward him sharply. “That is different!”
“Is it?” he asked, tilting his head in amusement.
“Aye! The bed at the castle is… it’s…” She gestured helplessly. “Huge. This one is hardly wider than a bench!”
He looked at the bed, then back at her. “Aye,” he conceded, “it’s… compact.”
That was a generous word for the disaster before them.
Davina pressed her lips together, mortified by the heat creeping into her cheeks. The bed required far too much closeness. She could already imagine the inevitable: knees touching, shoulders brushing, the accidental tangle of limbs in the night. Her pulse fluttered at the thought.
Baird must have noticed her discomfort, because his expression softened. He stepped closer but kept enough distance to honor the promise he’d made days earlier.
“I’m sorry,” he said quietly. His apology was not something she expected, especially from him. “This bed will have tae dae, but…” He hesitated. “If ye want… I can sleep on the floor.”
Davina blinked. He had apologized, and now, he was offering to sleep on the floor? It was evident that he meant every word of it. He would sleep on the hard, uneven boards without complaint if she asked.
She looked at the floor, at the crooked planks and then, at a pile of lumpy blankets likely crawling with hay dust. The thought of him lying there because of her fear felt unbearable.
“I… I would nae like that.”
Baird’s head lifted, and she could see surprise flickering in his eyes.
Davina swallowed, forcing herself to continue. “Ye shouldnae sleep on the floor. We’re both tired, and the storm will nae ease until morning. We…” Her cheeks warmed even more. “We can certainly find a way tae be… comfortable. Taegether.”
This time, it was his breath that caught. For a moment neither of them moved. The storm pounded against the tavern beams while a quieter, more dangerous storm brewed between them.
Baird inclined his head gratefully. “If that’s fine with ye, Davina… then aye. We’ll make dae.”
She stood awkwardly in the center of the small room, with the hem of the clean chemise brushing her calves.
The innkeeper’s wife had insisted they change into dry things while their soaked clothes were hung near the kitchen fire.
The chemise was soft and warm, but wearing it in front of Baird, while he wore one as well, made her heart flutter in a very inconvenient way.
He glanced at the tiny bed again, with his hands on his hips, and cleared his throat.
“So,” he said, a faint smirk at the corner of his mouth, “how are we going tae dae this?”
Davina bit her lip, stepping closer to examine the mattress, as if looking long enough might somehow make it larger.
“Well,” she said at last, attempting logic, “ye could go tae that side,” she pointed to the far edge, “and I shall stay on this side. If we both commit tae staying put, we should manage.”
Baird nodded solemnly, though his eyes glimmered with amusement. “Aye. That might work.”
They approached the bed together, moving with exaggerated care, as though one wrong step might set it collapsing. Davina climbed onto her side first, settling gingerly near the edge. Baird followed suit, lying stiffly on his side with his back to her.
For exactly three seconds, all was silent.
Then she shifted, trying to find a comfortable spot and her elbow connected squarely with his ribs.
“Och!” He jerked, twisting toward her. “Watch out!”
“Oh! I’m sorry!” Davina squeaked, feeling mortified. She flailed to move away but only succeeded in tugging a handful of his hair with her fingers.
Baird winced. “Now ye’re scalping me?”
“I didnae mean… here, lie still… oh heavens, stop moving!”
“I am sitting still!”
They stared at each other in the dim lamplight, both tangled in blankets and dignity in shambles.
Davina pressed a hand to her face in horror. “This is impossible.”
Baird rubbed the back of his head where she’d pulled his hair. “It’s nae impossible, just dangerous.”
She glared at him without heat. “Ye’re nae helping.”
“I’m trying tae survive,” he said solemnly.
Davina stifled a laugh, which only made the whole predicament worse. The bed dipped alarmingly beneath them, pitching her closer to him. She felt her shoulder brushing his chest.
Then Baird cleared his throat and shifted back, carefully this time. “Let’s try again, aye? Slowly.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Slowly.”
They resettled, cautious as deer on ice. She inched toward her side, he toward his. But the bed was determined to thwart every effort. When she tried to tuck the blanket under her arm, it pulled across his legs. When he adjusted his pillow, hers escaped from beneath her head and fell to the floor.
Davina groaned softly. “I didnae realize sharing a bed could be so… complicated.”
“Oh, it’s usually much simpler,” he said under his breath then froze, clearly realizing what he’d just implied.
She turned bright red, then buried her face in her pillow. “We’re hopeless.”
But she heard him laugh quietly. “Aye,” he murmured. “But at least we’re hopeless in equal measure… taegether.”
For a moment, neither of them moved. They simply lay there on that tiny, traitorous bed, breathing carefully, staring at the ceiling as though it might offer divine intervention. But finally, Baird exhaled a long, resigned breath, and rolled slightly toward her.
“This isnae working,” he said softly.
Davina flushed. “Nay… it is nae.”
He studied the narrow mattress with the seriousness of a man planning a military formation.
“There’s only one way fer us both tae fit without falling off.”
She turned her head warily. “And what way is that?”
He hesitated only a fraction. Then he extended his arm, opening a space against his chest, a place meant for her.
“If ye lie halfway atop me,” he tried to explain in a manner that would not make it appear as what it truly was, “we’ll have room. Me shoulder fer yer pillow, me arm around ye.”
Davina’s heart lurched. An embrace?
“And I will behave,” he added quickly. “Ye have me word.”
She swallowed. Her fingers twisted in the blanket. “I… I dinnae ken if that’s wise.”
“It may nae be wise,” he agreed softly, “but it’s the only way we’ll sleep. The bed is too small fer anything else.”
His arm remained extended, but it was not demanding, nor assuming. It was simply warmly inviting.
Her breath trembled. She could feel her pulse fluttering wildly beneath her skin as she shifted, inching toward him. She felt almost foolish, trembling like a skittish fawn, but she could not stop it.
He noticed instantly.
“Are ye cold?” he murmured.
“Nay,” she whispered. “Just… tired.”
And before the moment could overwhelm her, she moved the last bit forward, letting her head come to rest against his shoulder.
His arm slid around her back with a gentleness she didn’t expect of him.
He drew the blanket over both of them with his free hand, tucking it around her so the warmth would hold.
She could feel the slow rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek. His heartbeat thudded steadily under her ear, grounding and strangely soothing.
“Comfortable?” he asked in a hush.
She nodded. She was too tired and too aware to speak.
He let his fingers rest lightly against her upper arm.
And slowly, the tension in her body melted into the warmth of him.
Her breathing steadied and so did his. And there, in that tiny tavern bed, with rain pounding the windows and the storm winds howling outside, they drifted, bit by bit, into restful sleep.