Lessons from a Scandalous Bride by Sophie Jordan

Author:Sophie Jordan [Jordan, Sophie]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: HarperCollins US
Published: 2012-07-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

The village was as still and silent as a tomb. They passed a vicarage at the far end of the lane. Not a single light flowed from its windows. A dog woke and barked as they approached the small inn. If it could be called that. It appeared little more than a house with a crooked shingle hanging outside. A candle glowed from an upstairs window and Cleo took comfort in that. Someone would answer their knock and treat them to a modicum of hospitality. Hopefully, at this late hour they would face few questions.

The door was flung open and a bedraggled woman stood there, a lacy old-fashioned cap askew on her head. A gray-streaked plait hung loose and unraveling over her well-padded shoulder.

She lifted her lantern high to better inspect them. “What can I do for you?”

“We need a room for the night, if you please.”

“Late, isn’t it?”

“Quite. And we’re very tired. We’d prefer a warm bed to the hard earth.” Logan flashed her a handsome grin. Cleo rolled her eyes, feeling certain that smile could get him most anything.

The woman looked them over anew, missing nothing. No doubt she was running the odds of them being murderers through her mind. Apparently satisfied with whatever she saw in them—or didn’t see—she flicked a hand toward her stable. “The lad is gone for the night. You’ll have to tend to your own mount. Our lodgings are small. I’ve only four bedchambers and all are taken save one. Fortunate for you. Your lady can follow me and I’ll see her settled whilst you tend to your mount.”

Cleo opened her mouth to object, but Logan sent her a swift shake of his head. “That would be much appreciated,” he said smoothly.

The inn mistress’s already ruddy cheeks deepened in color. “Yes, well, if you’re hungry I suppose I can light the stove and—”

“Please, don’t trouble yourself,” Cleo assured her.

Right now she merely wanted to fall into a bed and lose herself in sleep . . . where she didn’t have to contemplate what was becoming the longest night of her life.

And she especially wouldn’t have to ponder the wondrous and confusing feelings the man beside her stirred inside her heart.

As Logan headed off for the stable, the proprietress led her inside, past a small parlor with a dying fire and up the creaking stairs. A man with wild, sleep-mussed hair peeped out from a room as they walked down the narrow corridor.

“Back to bed with you, sir. Just another guest arriving.”

With a grunted mutter, the man disappeared inside his room.

“My name is Mrs. Cantrell,” she declared as she opened the door to a small gabled room—obviously located at the corner of the house—that smelled of lye.

Entering the room, Cleo rotated in a small circle, surveying where she and Logan would spend the night together. Her gaze drifted to the bed and away. It didn’t look big enough for one person. It couldn’t possibly fit two. At least not comfortably. Heat swamped her face.

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