Haven house, p.5
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Haven House, page 5

 

Haven House
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  “I’ll pull the bell, see where the tea has gotten to.”

  I grabbed the rail that framed the window and held on until the boiling sensation passed, because staying upright and hanging on to my precious control pressed in on me.

  Long seconds passed where I breathed in and out, concentrating on the way my lungs filled until I was once more steady and able to face everything I knew, had heard, and experienced.

  I turned now, the swish of the gown I’d worn the only sound. My gaze found the sheriff’s. He’d lowered himself into the chair and watched me.

  “So, tell me, Sheriff. What happens when we reach the governor?”

  He blinked. “We aren’t actually going to the governor’s today.”

  “Pardon?”

  “I mean, we’re going to see him eventually. Just not yet. You’re going into a kind of protective custody, if you will.” His face took on the bland mask of someone prevaricating well.

  “Why?”

  He harrumphed. “We should discuss this later.” Now he rubbed his brow as if it ached.

  “Why not now?” I stepped closer while his eyes tracked my moves, following every step.

  “When we get where we’re going.”

  “And that is?” I kept pushing, and he smiled, a long lazy grin that stole my breath all over again.

  “Somewhere safe.”

  I pushed again, and he shook his head.

  Just as I was ready to demand, a knock came at the door. I rushed over and pulled it open to find the young cabin boy on the other side with a tea tray in his hands.

  The time for discussion had come and gone. Patience was once more the key.

  The dirigible landed at a large wharf with tethers rising high into the air. I stepped through the opening and onto the gangway. Voices echoed and shouted while the vision of the town in the distance filled my view. Buildings, squat and grimy, sat opposite the wharf. Dark and menacing laneways interspersed them.

  The road between the wharf and buildings was lightly cobbled, and carts, carriages, and horses filled it.

  People milled and hurried about, and the whole time, my anchor was the sheriff beside me. He held me protectively close, yet never exceeded the bounds of appropriateness.

  How do I feel about that? I didn’t have an answer.

  With a quick move, I dragged my wrap closer around my body and peered through the gathering gloom.

  A large carriage rolled into view, a crest adorning the door: The Coultihan Dirigible Company.

  “It appears your brother arranged transport for us.” There was a hint of surprise in the sheriff’s tone.

  “So, we should be quick?” Yet even as I moved to make my way down the gangplank, his large hand stayed my moves.

  “Not yet. Let’s just watch for a moment, shall we?”

  “But—”

  “Shhhh.”

  We stood there as the people alighting swarmed past us. I glanced up, noting the intensity of his stare.

  “You think…”

  “It’s all a little too convenient,” he replied and then tugged me back within the confines of the covered walkway. “We might just find our own transport, and I’ll send a message.”

  A trace of fear skittered along my nerves. He senses something wrong. Even though it would be simple to pull away and head down that ramp, my instincts warned me to trust the sheriff. My brother had obviously believed in him enough to send me with him, after all.

  He grabbed my hand. I squeaked, “What—”

  “Shhh, follow my lead. Answer only when I indicate.”

  Unused to prevarication, I wondered if I could, but he was already pulling me along toward the second-class line. “Slide your wrap over your head.” He tugged at his badge, removing it and sliding it into a pocket as I watched.

  I complied, and he dragged me into the line of families with young children.

  “Look down and trust me.”

  We joined the crush, stepping carefully down the jouncing plank until our feet hit the dirt.

  “Hold tight now,” he whispered.

  My hand was joined with his, either a death grip or lifeline. I couldn’t be sure which was more accurate.

  People jostled, children called and raced, and babies wailed. At the bottom of the steps, he tugged his hat farther down on his head and dragged me to the side. A stack of crates sat there, and we inched in behind them, the fence at our back. Clearly he didn't intend to be seen. I watched the way he looked, left, right, then left again. Every move drove a spike of warning into my chest.

  “You’re worried,” I whispered, and he grunted while pulling me closer. “Sher—”

  “Shh.” He waited, gaze firmly on the carriage. “We need to wait until the carriage leaves and note if anyone follows it.” He kept his voice low.

  A finger of cold wiggled within my belly. Did he believe someone was on the lookout for us? Were we in danger? Surely not!

  It felt like hours passed. My heart raced while the sounds slowly quieted, and the crowd melted away.

  The driver got down from the top of the carriage, then moved over to the now-empty first-class gangway and conferred with the steward waiting there. The steward gave a shrug and headed up the plank while the driver waited. Time passed. The steward returned, and they spoke animatedly; then they traipsed back to the carriage, looking here and there.

  Sheriff Whitmore released my fingers, and I exhaled. The driver clambered up to his post once more, and the vehicle rolled forward.

  From a corner of the building opposite, a man emerged, his horse moving slowly as they followed the carriage.

  The sheriff waited a little longer before dragging me out. “We need to hurry.” He hailed the last cab waiting, a dusty, grimy contraption with a nag at the front.

  “Wait here while I get our bags. Then we’ll be back,” he told the man, and the driver tipped his flattened cap.

  I followed the sheriff to the gangway we were meant to use, and he conferred with one of the dirigible company’s stewards. Our bags were carried over. “You’ve missed your personal carriage, sir. It came and went without you.”

  The sheriff didn’t answer, just collected the three soft bags and hefted them into an anonymous rented carriage. “Should anyone make enquiries, you don’t know where we went.”

  The steward gaped at him, then nodded in two sharp jerks.

  I was handed into the cab, its interior as dusty and murky as I’d expected. Then he joined me inside.

  “Drive to the nearest hotel. Then I’ll give you instructions,” he said to the driver. I didn’t catch the reply, just a mumble.

  The sheriff had mounded the bags on the seat opposite and settled beside me. In the sudden gloom, I could catch a whiff of his scent. Leather and man. Beneath all that, there was a hint of spice, rather like cinnamon.

  To clear my mind, I inhaled deeply, and the scent of him grew, filling my mind so I could barely think straight, it was so overwhelming. Meanwhile, in my chest, something moved, jolting me into an awareness I wasn’t sure I was ready to deal with.

  The carriage pulled up outside a hovel, the front door slapping in the breeze as curtains waved. Clearly, this was aimed at those with little coin, sitting on the outskirts of town.

  The sheriff climbed out, headed to the front of the carriage, and conferred with the driver. I waited inside as he completed his task, breathing easier once he entered the carriage again. It rolled forward.

  “We’ll be there soon. I’ve given instructions for us to travel to an alternative location, where we’ll stay tonight. In the morning we’ll move to the safe house.”

  “Why? Why can’t we go straight there?” I bit my lip, more than aware that the question might sound inane.

  The man beside me leaned in, his mouth near my ear, and I shivered at the intimacy of the actions. “There're several factors. The first is we’ll access our own conveyance in the morning, and the other is we don’t want to tip off where we’re staying. I’m not sure just how close-mouthed this driver is.”

  “Do you think someone will really go to those kinds of lengths to find out where we are?”

  “Yes I do, Ammy.”

  The answer startled me. Not because of the answer, but the way he said my name, like it was molten honey with a trace of some deeper emotion I refused to examine.

  I glanced at him, noting the glint in his eye. “We’ll talk when we reach our hotel.”

  I nodded and turned back, because I couldn’t think of any other action that didn’t betray my sudden nerves.

  The hotel was one of those places that could be anywhere. It was almost a boarding house. The rooms were comfortably appointed, but it was literally just a room, with a smallish bed, a chest of drawers, and a mirror.

  The sheriff turned to me and grimaced. “It’s the best we can do for tonight.”

  I bit my lip.

  Downstairs, when we’d taken the room for the night, he’d only asked for a single room. I’d opened my mouth, about to mention we required two, but he stayed with me, one hand gripping my wrist. That and the tiny shake of his head had the words dying on my lips.

  “So, why just this room? Why not two?” I whirled now to face him.

  “They’ll be looking for a man and a woman travelling together but unmarried. Given the belief system, they won’t be looking for a couple sharing a room. It also means we don’t raise suspicions and have a room denied.” The look on his face told me clearly that he also wasn’t overly happy about the arrangement.

  I blinked. It made sense. Sort of.

  “But where will you sleep?”

  He sighed. “With you.”

  “But…”

  The sheriff shook his head even as my nerves quivered and jumped in response.

  “We’ll have to share the bed. There’s not enough room on the floor and no seat.”

  “But I’ve… I can’t…” The words didn’t come out. I wanted to say I’d never considered spending the night in a bed with a man. The thought was scandalous. At worst, it might just test me beyond the boundaries I had imposed on myself.

  Being next to the sheriff all night, his body nestled against mine—and it would be, as the bed was narrow—was wrong. Tempting.

  My body flooded with heat.

  He tugged off his hat and laid it down on the chest of drawers. “It’s what we’ve got. We’ll have to make the best of it.”

  My eyes strayed to the spotted mirror. His gaze met mine, and it was like all the air was sucked from my lungs. The telltale red flood on my face flared hotter.

  “It’s not seemly.” The words emerged half strangled from me.

  “I’ll try to keep my hands to myself.” He grinned now, and I squeaked. His hand landed on my shoulder. “We should go down, order a meal, then retire early. Tomorrow’s going to be a little more difficult.”

  Frowning, I wondered how that could be. I’d been drugged, sent off on a dirigible, landed in a city I didn’t know with a man I was neither related to nor married to. We’d hidden from someone watching us, taken a dirty cab, and landed in a hotel with one bed.

  “I’m not sure that’s possible,” I muttered.

  The sheriff remained silent, simply pouring water into the bowl and washing up. When he was done, he waited while I straightened my hair, then rifled through the large bag, found a shawl to replace my jacket, and shook out my skirts a final time.

  “I’m ready,” I stated.

  He stood by the door, his eyes hooded as he watched.

  “Not quite.” He reached into the pocket of his waistcoat and retrieved something, then held it out to me. “You should put this on.”

  “What is it?”

  He grimaced. “A wedding ring.”

  Shock coursed through me. “A wedding ring?”

  His slow nod and the intensity of his gaze stole my breath. “In case anyone asks questions. Gives the situation some believability.”

  His words made sense, but still I couldn’t seem to move. I didn’t know why such a simple thing—and ruse—discombobulated me.

  With a sigh, he plucked it from my grip, drew off my left glove, and held my hand in a firm grasp. “Ammy?”

  I may have looked up at him, but I was busy trying to hold in my reaction to the slide of that gold band onto my finger. It didn’t matter that my brain knew it was a lie. It didn’t matter that we weren’t really married, because all I could focus on was the gravity of the action he was performing.

  Hot tears pricked my eyes, and I blinked.

  “Ammy?”

  I looked up through the veil of moisture.

  His Adam's apple bobbed, and his hand shook. “Ammy?”

  “No.” I stepped back, breaking the invisible connection between us. “We should go.” I waited a moment until he turned, hand reaching for the door. Without his searching gaze on me, I could breathe again. I did, and a deep and unsteady sound betrayed my confusion.

  Did he hear it? If so, he didn’t react, just stepped out of the way so I could pass him.

  Chapter Five

  Dinner was a basic affair. Meat, vegetables, and a thick, glutinous gravy. The cooking was about as you’d expect in a hole-in-the-wall hotel, but it was filling. Maybe not as good as I’d gotten used to in my brother’s house, but I had a full belly at the end.

  “So, what happens next?” The query was carefully formed by me, and the sheriff stared at my face.

  “We head up to the room and bed.”

  If I hadn’t been prepared, I may have been surprised by his comment.

  “I mean working out who’s following us. Or attempting to.”

  He placed his utensils on the plate, then dabbed carefully at his mouth. I had the impression he was drawing time out. Why? It seemed patience was the only way to find out.

  “We discuss this tomorrow. However, wife,” he emphasized, “it’s time to retire.”

  My face flamed as the heat scorched through me.

  Rising, I kept my gaze focused on the stairs and headed in that direction. At the bottom of the steps, the sheriff stopped me. Looking at him, I noticed the narrowing of his eyes, the way his face tightened.

  “I’ll go first,” he said, and I moved aside to follow him.

  They creaked with every step, and once we gained the upper landing, he stopped me. “Wait here.”

  He moved to the door, fishing the key out and turning it. No sound, not even a squeak. The door swung wide, and he entered.

  Silence.

  My heart thudded with this overwhelming rhythm that indicated he expected the worst, while an icy trickle of sweat slid down my back under the confines of my heavy gown and underwear.

  When he came back, his face was grim.

  “She—”

  He laid a quiet hand against my mouth. “We should retire.” There was a dangerous note that only someone who knew him would understand. He curled his hand around mine and tugged me into the room.

  “What was that all about?” My voice wobbled slightly, but I would not be cowed. For the first time in living memory, I refused to accept some ridiculous story, but he simply shook his head.

  I removed my shawl and considered changing into the nightgown Gloriana had stashed for me, but that indicated an intimacy I had no interest in sharing. Instead, I looked at my skirt and sighed, removing it. Sleeping in my petticoats wasn’t something I’d planned on, but at least with so many layers I’d feel some modicum of control.

  The sheriff had turned his back while I’d shuffled through the bag, and now he dragged the single heavy armchair before the door and settled in it. I jumped at the scraping noise and scurried to the bed, the whole time mightily aware of his presence.

  I tugged at the bed covers and slid under them.

  “You should at least change out of your corset.”

  His dry words made every nerve in my body quiver, but the corset represented a lot more than just a piece of clothing. It was like a shield, protecting me from urges I was trying so hard to ignore.

  “Uh, no, thank you. I’m fine.” Lying there in the gas-lit room, with the whalebone digging into the soft flesh of my back, I knew it would be a long and painful night.

  “If you insist.” He shoved away from the chair and came to stand over the bed, glaring down at me. With slow movements, the sheriff reached for his jacket and shrugged it off.

  “What—” An enormous ball of something filled my throat as I blinked several times in quick succession. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting ready for bed,” he informed me, and that ball swelled in size to a mountain.

  “In here?” I squeaked.

  “There’s nowhere else to sleep, and that’s what we both need.” Waistcoat now divested as well, he sat on the side of the bed. It dipped under his weight and squeaked while he removed one boot, then the other.

  With a quick move, he levered up so he now lay beside me, then dimmed the light. “Goodnight, Ammy.”

  I squeezed my eyes closed, trying to shut out the sight of him and the awareness that he lay beside me, albeit on top of the covers.

  Time passed slowly, as I heard the tick-tock of the clock on top of the chest of drawers.

  I heard the evenness of his breathing, felt the heat radiating from his body, and that awareness had parts of me reacting in ways I was unprepared for and really didn’t want. There was a warmth spreading through my belly and loins while my chest tingled.

  I wanted things I had no right to want.

  Like his arms around me.

  His lips on mine.

  “I won’t touch you unless you want it, Ammy.”

  His words startled me. They were dark and hazy with passion, and I wanted more than anything to give in to the drugging and mesmerising tones. I wanted all of him and so much more. I clenched my hands tight, hoping to ward off that secret longing that filled me up and hollowed me out.

  “I…” What was there to say? “Goodnight.” I took the coward's exit, but tears stung my eyes.

  He shifted onto his side, away from me, but I lay still, staring at the ceiling, ignoring my clamouring body. Nothing had ever seemed as hard as this.

 
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