CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Upon arriving in Kincardine, the coachman dropped us off at the closest inn.
It was a small establishment, with a large ornamental anchor hanging above the fireplace.
The briny smell of seafood saturated the walls, as well as the clothing of the fishermen, who sat huddled around its central tables, drinking ale and playing cards.
A woman in a flowing white gown sang quietly in the corner, strumming a soft melody on her harp.
Every now and again, the entryway door would slam open, blasting a fresh sea breeze into the room.
I walked up to the innkeeper. “Do you have any rooms available?” I asked hopefully.
She nodded. “You’re in luck. We have one room remaining for the night.” Balancing a tray of bread and cheese against her side, she reached into her pocket for the key. I groaned, because I really didn’t want to have to find another spot to spend the night.
“That won’t work. We need two beds,” I responded. The woman’s eyes darted behind me, roving up and down Corvin’s tall frame. “Are you sure about that?” she asked, a suggestive lilt to her voice as she clucked her tongue at me in disapproval. “Now that’s a crying shame.”
I averted my gaze, heat rising up my neck. “If there’s really no other option—”
She handed over the room key. “No need to worry, dear. It’s a single room, but it has two beds.”
Corvin and I sat down at the corner table after filling our bowls from the communal cauldron hanging in the fireplace, simmering with fish stew.
I placed the room key between us. “She only has a single room left. Two beds though,” I informed Corvin as he spooned a bite of stew into his mouth.
“That works.” He lowered his voice, and I huddled closer to hear his next words.
“Somebody tried to attack us today. We should stay in the same room anyway. It’ll be safer… ”
“I agree,” I whispered back, staring into my bowl.
Admittedly, our safety wasn’t the only question on my mind.
What would it be like to share a room together?
An image of Corvin, shirtless, dripping wet, emerging from the island lake, danced across my eyes.
Followed by other images, things that hadn’t happened.
Things I might enjoy. Like the feel of his skin against mine or the touch of his lips.
The image shifted to us sharing a bed, bodies pressed close, his hands tangled in my hair—
“Are you finished?” Corvin asked.
I choked on my stew. “Wha-what?”
“Are you finished eating?” he repeated. “Or would you like another bowl?”
“This will be plenty. Thank you,” I responded, shoveling the last few mouthfuls of stew down my throat.
After finishing our meal, we retreated to our room.
It was spacious, large enough to fit two beds inside. A small table with a couple of chairs was stationed in the corner. Corvin strode across the room, throwing the window wide open and breathing deeply, savoring the cool evening air.
I took in our actual accommodations. There were technically two beds provided.
Only, the bed on the left was in a serious state of disrepair.
It was practically caved in at the middle, its wooden support beams completely broken.
“What in the—” Corvin turned around, taking in the state of the room himself.
He chuckled lightly. “I can’t say I’ve ever been so…inspired. At least the bed usually stays intact.”
Realization dawned. I blushed deeply, thinking about the couple who must have stayed here before us.
Now my mind was drifting to other things.
Like what would inspire him to break a bed.
“I wouldn’t know,” I admitted, feeling Corvin’s eyes on me.
“Should we ask for a different room?” he asked, his tone earnest.
“The innkeeper said this is all they have left,” I replied.
“The mattress looks usable enough. I’ll drag it to the floor and sleep there.”
“That’s not fair,” I protested. “I’ll take it.”
“You could use the sleep before tomorrow.”
“So could you,” I retorted.
“How about we play for it then?” Corvin asked, reaching for his deck of cards and taking a seat at the table.
He pulled out the second chair, tilting his chin in my direction. “Winner gets to sleep on the bed.”
I joined him at the table. “You’re on.”
Declaring dealer’s choice, I let Corvin choose the game.
Even so, after several rounds, I drew my final card from the top of the deck, expecting it to win me the game.
I looked down at the cards in my hand, then back up at Corvin.
The day ahead would require both of us to be fully rested if we wanted to succeed.
A dizzying mix of desire and anticipation flooded through me.
I laid down my hand, purposefully choosing the combination that would result in us tying the game instead.
Corvin laid his hand down on the table across from mine.
“Well, this is a conundrum,” he said cheerfully. “We appear to have tied. What do we do now?”
“I think we honor our deal. We tied. I think…I think that means we share the bed,” I said breathlessly, hardly believing the words were coming out of my mouth. “We don’t have to; if you’d be uncomfortable, I can sleep on the floor instead.”
His eyes drifted away from me and toward the bed, but not before I saw the yearning in his gaze, the slight flare of his nostrils, in response to my suggestion.
But I wasn’t sure if I could trust what I had seen or if it simply existed in my head.
There was no mistaking the low rasp of his voice, however, when he finally replied, “I agree, let’s share the bed tonight.
I don’t know about you, but I’m exhausted. We should sleep soon anyway.”
He shuffled his cards back into the deck and then reached for mine—my hand!
I couldn’t let him see the cards or he would know.
I lunged for them. “Let me shuffle the deck!” My urgency gave me away, and Corvin swept my cards into his hand before I could reach them, quirking an inquisitive eyebrow at me.
As he scanned the cards, a slow smile spread across his face, growing increasingly wicked the longer he stared at them.
“You know, Elvira, if you want me in your bed you can just tell me. No need to throw your hand.”
He leaned forward, waving the cards in front of my face. “These tell quite the interesting story.”
And maybe it was the boldness of our earlier escape, still invading my system, spurring me onward, but rather than make an excuse, I pushed my elbows onto the table, bringing our faces close together, and huskily replied, “I want you in my bed, Corvin,” letting the words linger in the air between us, soft and slow, before abruptly leaning back in my chair and flashing him my sweetest smile.
“It’s important that we both sleep well tonight, don’t you think? ”
He swallowed thickly, his voice a deep rumble. “Then I’ll do my best to ensure you get a good night’s rest.”
“Careful, Corvin,” I murmured back. “I take midnight vows very seriously.”
He chuckled, low in his throat. “I’ll certainly keep that in mind. Shall we?”
I rose from my seat. “Ready. I’ll change over there, if you could look away.” I wandered over to the bed, quietly undressing behind it. Truthfully, I needed a moment to myself, to clear my head and steady my breathing. I removed my pants but kept my long tunic on.
Facing the other direction, Corvin was undressing as well, pulling off his shirt.
I watched him with bated breath, my heart beating erratically in my chest, but he made no move to undress any further.
Tracing the broad lines of his shoulders, I let my eyes linger there a moment, admiring his body before guilt drew my gaze away from him.
Crawling under the covers, I stared up at the ceiling, my side wedged up against the wall.
Even though the room itself was spacious, the beds were clearly intended for a single occupant, no doubt because there were supposed to be two of them available.
The mattress groaned as Corvin settled into the bed, his shoulder pressing into mine.
“I should have asked you which side of the bed you prefer,” I mumbled nervously.
“Oh—that’s alright. I do prefer to be near the window, but we don’t have to change.”
“No, we should. I want you to sleep well. If you want to just lift yourself up and over me…”
I gently nudged his side, trying to move toward the center of the bed.
The mattress sunk lower as Corvin complied with my request, raising his body over mine.
As he shifted on top of me, our eyes connected and he paused, looking down at me.
Paused moving. Paused breathing. His arms tense.
His pupils dilated. Paused because, for some unknown reason, I was holding his forearms, locking him in place above me. “Your skin is cold,” I whispered.
He held himself aloft, close enough I could feel his breath against my lips. “I think you just run hot.”
“I wonder how often summer and winter share the same bed.”
“Hmm. Good question,” he murmured. “Together, we could achieve thermal perfection.”
I laughed, the rumble in my chest pressing our bodies close.
Corvin’s eyes dropped to my mouth, a satisfied expression on his face.
Reluctantly, I released his arms, and he rolled his body all the way over mine, so that he was now the one against the wall, both of us resting on our backs once more.
“Sleep well, Elvira,” he said, the lines of our bodies relaxing into one another in the bed.
“I’ve never seen a banshee warrior up close before.” I winced, unsure whether he would want to chat.
“Me either,” he replied enthusiastically. “They say they can use their banshee wail to guarantee an opponent’s death.”
“I’ve read about that. They lose their powers afterward though. It’s a last resort.”
Silence fell again.
“What if they scream on accident?” I pondered aloud.
“What do you mean?” Corvin asked.
“Like if someone scares them,” I elaborated.