9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

“ N o one is coming.”

Will gripped the doorframe so hard he was certain it would tear off in his hand. “Say that again?” he ground out. He had tossed and turned on the bedroll for several hours as Adelaide slept in the bed, knowing that if he allowed himself to share the mattress, he’d be unable to resist her warm, voluptuous body. Perhaps the lack of sleep was muddling his hearing, or he was having a nightmare, or—

“No chaperone is coming for the lady.” The barkeep paled slightly at Will’s growl. “It was in the telegram, sir. From Bumbletwit. Said he couldn’t find no one to take ’er to Somerset, asked you to do it.”

With a quick glance over his shoulder to make sure Adelaide was still asleep, Will stepped into the hallway, closing the door behind him as softly as he could manage with trembling hands. “I can’t take her,” Will hissed. “I have work here in Saltford.” And after last night—

Lord, but just thinking about what had happened in the early hours had heat rushing to his groin. She’d been magnificent, demanding her bliss, then coming apart under his fingers and tongue. A goddess made for pleasure, for the worship of a mortal like him. But one night was all he could take and still let go of her. Any more, and he might not survive her siren call.

He shook his head to keep his focus on the crisis at hand. “There has to be someone reliable somewhere in this town.”

The man’s pockmarked nose wrinkled for a moment as he thought. “The blacksmith’s the respectable sort. I could ask ’im!”

This must be some sort of elaborate joke, and Will was the butt of it. “Not him. I—”

“Will?”

He spun as the door behind him opened a crack to reveal Adelaide, wrapped in a bedsheet with flushed cheeks and hair tousled, looking stunning and utterly ravished. The innkeeper chuckled under his breath, and Will shot him a glare before turning to her.

He arranged his face into what he hoped was—but likely failed to be—a placid expression. “Go inside, Adelaide, and gather your things. We’ll be leaving as soon as the carriage is ready.”

Her eyes widened. “We? Does that mean you—”

He snapped the door shut before she could finish, wincing at his callous behavior but unable to stop himself. “I suppose I’m going to Barrington,” he muttered to no one in particular, but the barkeep nodded as though pleased by Will’s declaration.

After arranging for the carriage to be prepared and managing provisions from the kitchen, Will had delayed the inevitable long enough. He held his breath and opened the door, then entered their room. Adelaide’s room, which he had no right to be in. She had dressed in a pale green muslin skirt and linen shirtwaist, but her hair hung unbound in wild waves over her shoulders. Her brows puckered as he met her gaze.

“You were quite rude to me.” Her voice was devoid of its usual sparkle, and he hated it.

“I’m sorry Adelaide.” Call her Miss Kimball. You work for her now. “There’s no chaperone coming for you. I’ll be taking you the rest of the way.”

Myriad expressions passed over her face, pausing momentarily on joy before her smile fell. “Will, no! Your apprenticeship. How will you—”

“I’ll stop by the shop as we’re leaving. Explain the circumstances.” His stomach clenched as he contemplated another dream denied. Another obstacle he’d have to cross.

Another several days in close proximity to Adelaide Kimball.

She approached him then, took his hands and squeezed. “I can’t express how grateful I am. You’ve been through so much trouble for me and my wedding.” Her lapis eyes sparkled as she beamed at him. “With you in charge, I’m sure nothing else will go wrong.”

“How do you lose a carriage ?”

Adelaide winced at the force of Will’s words. Had their conveyance not disappeared overnight, she might have felt some pity for the two groomsmen enduring his frustration. However, she was now considering the plausibility of walking to Barrington.

“Sorry, sir,” one man managed, a furious flush crawling up his neck. “These things happen sometimes.”

“An entire carriage and horse just—” Will fisted his hands then burst them open, “—disappear without notice?”

The men nodded and exchanged a knowing glance. “I’ve heard of stranger things.”

Will pulled in a breath and fisted his hands once more, and Adelaide grabbed his elbow and tugged him away. He moved with surprising ease, although the veins in his neck throbbed as she faced him. “There’s no sense in arguing,” she said in what she hoped was a soothing tone. A dead stable hand would not make matters any easier for them. “We need to find a different means of travel.”

He planted his hands on his hips and shook his head. “There won’t be a public coach that passes through here. We’ll need another carriage and horses, or we wait and see if someone will give us a lift.”

A braying call from next to the barn caught her attention, and Adelaide gasped and pointed. “Look at that!”

His brow furrowed. “It’s an apple cart.”

She grinned. “Attached to a horse!”

“That’s a donkey.”

“Still, it’s better than what we have now.” The cart was only an acceptable replacement for the carriage in that it had four wheels and a slim bench for the driver. But it would bring them to Barrington faster than her feet would. She tugged his hand. “What do you think? Can you drive a donkey?”

“You don’t drive a—” Will scrubbed his palm down his face and groaned. “We can’t just take it. That would be stealing.”

Adelaide scoffed and hurried over to her trunk. After some rummaging, she opened the false bottom and hummed in satisfaction when she found her target. She hung the gold bracelet on one pinky and swung it back and forth. “It’s not stealing if we pay for it.”

He paled. “It’s stealing if we don’t ask.”

She shrugged and hooked the bracelet over the nail that held the donkey’s reins in place. “Details.” Leather straps in hand, she grinned at Will. “It seems the universe has decided we’re going to have an adventure. Are you with me?”