Blame It on Bath Page 0,38

said a few words to the innkeeper, and soon they were being shown to a large room, plain but tidy, with a fire already laid in the hearth. Her husband helped her to the armchair near the fireplace.

“Feeling a bit sore?” She nodded, and he flashed her a sympathetic look. “I’m very sorry for it. I have to see to my horse, but I can send for a bath if you’d like.”

As tempting as it sounded, Katherine thought of his walking in on her as she bathed and shook her head. The servants had brought his luggage and hers into the room; naturally, since they were husband and wife now. “Thank you, no. I shall wash up as usual.”

“Very good. I’ll arrange for dinner.” He left, and she heard his voice in the corridor outside, telling the innkeeper to send warm water for her to wash in and a large dinner with good wine. Birdie tapped at the door when his footsteps died away and slipped into the room at Katherine’s summons.

“It’s about time we stopped,” she muttered. “Will you bathe, madam?”

“Not tonight. We shall have another long day on the roads tomorrow.” Katherine caught Birdie’s wince. “Just help me undress, then you may go to bed, Birdie. I’ll arrange for a dinner tray for you.”

“His Lordship already did so,” her servant said. “Just now, outside the door. I credit him this, madam, he’s taking proper care of you.”

Katherine smiled thinly as she pushed herself back onto her stiff legs. “I take it you’re growing fonder of him, then.”

Birdie sniffed. “I’d take a stick to him if he didn’t see to your comfort after the jolting he put us through today.”

“You won’t take a stick to anyone, any more than you would have done to Lord Howe,” Katherine said sharply. She knew Birdie meant nothing by her words and would never dare carry them out, but if the captain overheard her, it could go very badly for Birdie. Lucien would have sacked her for far less. “Don’t say such nonsense.”

Birdie pressed her lips together, but she came and started unlacing Katherine’s traveling dress. “He’s not the same sort as Lord Howe.”

“Of course he’s not. That doesn’t mean you should forget yourself, even when he’s not around.” She pulled her arms out of the sleeves, and Birdie helped her wiggle out of the dress. She put on her nightdress and bundled up in her dressing gown. Servants came with wash water and got the fire going, which made the room cozy and warm in no time, and brought a large tray with dinner. Once she had washed up and Birdie had combed out her hair for the night, Katherine sent her abigail off to bed. With a worried but grateful look, Birdie left.

She sat down at the small table and peeked under the covers of the dishes. She was hungry, and it smelled good. The captain had been gone a long time, and she didn’t know if he would expect her to wait for him. She held back as long as she could, but gradually the growling of her belly became too much to bear. It had been well over an hour since he left. Surely he would understand if she ate just a little. She lifted one cover again and sniffed.

The door burst open, and Katherine jerked backward in her chair. The captain strode in, his saddlebags over one shoulder and his hat in his hand. He closed the door and dropped the saddlebags on the floor near the hearth. “You’ve not eaten?” he asked, spying the still-covered dishes.

She shook her head. He was unbuttoning his coat. A moment later the bright scarlet jacket was hanging on the back of the spare chair, and he was working on his waistcoat. Katherine curled her toes under her feet. Wedding night, wedding night, wedding night, seemed to echo in her heartbeat.

“There was no need to wait,” he said as he stripped off yet another layer of clothing. “You must be half-starved, and tired to boot.” The waistcoat joined the coat. He untied his cravat and began unwinding it. Katherine watched from under her eyelashes as he moved about the room, utterly at ease, removing his watch from a pocket and rummaging in his saddlebags. He looked so very big and male, even larger and more intimidating than when clothed, for now she could see the muscles in his throat and arms. Lord Howe had been a slender, elegant man. She didn’t think