“I thought I heard someone come in.” Prudence walked in from the kitchen, a strand of blonde hair caressing her cheek. Oh, to be that lock…
She stopped short, her gaze moving over his coatless form and provoking a rather indecent response below his waist. He strove to keep his body under control. She didn’t need to see how she affected him. Hadn’t he already subjected her to enough?
“I was just checking on the coach, and I’m afraid my coat got rather wet when I ran back from the stable.” He felt a need to explain why he wasn’t wearing it. “The coach will be ready to go whenever we can leave.” He sent a perturbed glance toward the window. “Which may not be for some time, unfortunately.”
“How much time?” she asked cautiously.
“The stable master said the river has overrun its banks, which has made the road impassable. He said it could be a few days before we can travel. If it stops raining tomorrow.”
“Perhaps we should build an ark.”
Bennet laughed. How he enjoyed her dry wit. “I would if I could afford it.” That he was now jesting with her about his financial state indicated just how comfortable he felt with her. Too comfortable, perhaps. He needed to be careful not to expose too much.
“There’s plenty of wood around here,” she said, standing on the other side of the chair that held his coat. “And if the wind continues as it has, there may be a tree—or ten—felled.”
“I hadn’t thought of that,” Bennet said. “But given our luck thus far, I’m confident one will fall across the road, further delaying our departure.”
She smirked. “We may have to walk.”
He turned fully toward her. “I’ll get you back to London as soon as I can. I’m so sorry.”
With a shake of her head, she held up her hand. “I told you to stop doing that. No more apologies, especially for this weather, which isn’t your fault.”
“I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything. I’m afraid my remorse is quite towering.” He looked toward the fire lest he fixate on that errant lock of hair. He longed to take it between his fingers, to feel its softness before he tucked it behind her ear. Then he’d stroke the delicate shell of that ear and caress her jaw. It would be so easy to lean in and kiss her…
He was an absolute beast.
“I’ve forgiven you, so please set your remorse aside. I am quite fine, and while your scheme was ill planned and horrid, there was no real harm done.”
Unless he’d ruined her for future employment. It wasn’t as if he could offer to take care of her the rest of her life. Not only could he not afford to do so, it would imply a rather scandalous connection between them. He wouldn’t want her to suffer that, not even for five minutes, let alone forever.
“I won’t forget, however,” she added, her eyes glinting with promise.
“I won’t either,” he said softly. “Is it terrible that I’m enjoying this time here with you?” There, he’d said it.
She fidgeted with her hands for a moment, then thrust them down to her sides, as if she’d caught herself doing something wrong. “I can think of worse things. Such as the kidnappers not bringing me to you at all.”
He drew in a breath. “Hell, don’t even think that.” He would have tracked them down and found her, whatever the cost. He said that now, knowing her and liking her as he did. But it would have been Cassandra he would have gone after—or so he’d thought. He would have done the same; however, his reaction was different. Prudence had grasped on to something within him, something that would do anything to keep her safe.
“I try not to think of the worst,” she said. “Sometimes, I can’t help it.”
“Why?”
She fidgeted with her fingers again. “When bad things happen, you begin to wonder if they always will.”
“Bad things such as your parents dying?”
Her gaze met his, and he basked in the fleeting vulnerability she allowed him to see. “Among other things.” Her eyes shuttered, and she looked toward the window. “Perhaps we’ll just be here forever. We could ignore everything else.”
He indulged the fantasy, smiling. “Well, that would certainly simplify things.”
“But entirely unrealistic. You have responsibilities, people who rely on you.”
“Yes.”
“I suppose it’s nice to think about not having that sometimes. I’m quite free to make my own choices based only on what I want and what is best for me.”
A brief flash of jealousy shot through him. He didn’t have that luxury. That also meant she didn’t have the joy of family, no matter how complicated and exhausting they could be. They could both make an argument for contentment—and discontent.
“Are you lonely?” he asked, knowing he shouldn’t but unable to stop himself. Would she answer or deflect and avoid as he expected her to do? “You said you were alone, but are you lonely? That’s not the same thing.”
A long moment stretched before she responded, and he realized he was holding his breath. “Not usually. Sometimes—”
He would never know what she was about to say because a loud crash sounded as a tree fell against the inn.
Chapter 5
Prudence followed Bennet to the door. He threw it open and started outside but in his haste hadn’t grabbed his coat. She pulled his hat from the hook and stepped out into the howling wind and sideways rain. “Here!” she called.
He turned his head, his brows pitched low over his eyes. “Get back inside!”
“Take the hat!” She thrust it toward him. “And you need your coat.”
Grasping the hat, he slammed it on his head. A branch sailed past them, and his face creased with distress. “Please, go back inside!”
She turned and stopped short. “Bennet!” Pointing to where the tree leaned against the corner of the house with one hand, she clapped the other over her mouth.
He came to her side and took her arm, guiding her back to the door. “Go inside and stay away from this corner. Tell Mrs. Logan what’s happened.”
“What’s happened?” Mrs. Logan’s face appeared in the doorway.
“There’s a tree leaning against the house,” Prudence said.
Bennet let go of her arm. “There’s Logan and Tasker, the stable master. I’ll go help them. Remember, stay away from this corner.” He looked up and around. “Too many damned trees.”
Prudence went inside, but didn’t close the door. She craned her neck to see what the men were doing.
“Come in, dear,” Mrs. Logan said gently. “I know you’re worried, but they’ll be fine.”
“He doesn’t even have his coat,” Prudence said, though that was the least of her concerns. What if a branch fell on him? Or worse, another tree?
“Let me get him a greatcoat.” Mrs. Logan turned. “I’m sure I can find something that will suffice.”
Prudence wrung her hands and allowed herself to fidget—a bad habit she’d worked hard to overcome before assuming her position as a companion. A gust of wind pulled at the open door, and Prudence swung it closed before it blew off.