“SHE’S TOUCHING me.”
Rubbing his dry, burning eyes, Colin glanced over his shoulder at the children in the wagon bed.
“He’s looking at me oddly.”
Colin clenched his teeth and turned his attention back to the road, where it seemed every inhabitant of London was ahead of him. A leisurely carriage ride from London to Cainewood Castle normally took about five hours, but the sun was setting, and after six hours they weren’t even a quarter of the way there.
They could walk to Cainewood faster than they were moving, he thought irritably.
“She won’t stop humming.”
“Ouch!”
He had to find somewhere to stay before major warfare broke out. For the past hour, he’d stopped at every inn along the way and sent Davis to inquire about available lodging. Colin was beginning to believe every room in the kingdom was taken.
When Davis came out of the last one, shaking his head, Colin had briefly considered bedding outdoors for the night. But although it was warm, there was a persistent wind, and he shuddered at the thought of trying to make nine children comfortable with not so much as a blanket.
Nine children and Amy Goldsmith.
He glanced down at her grimy face. Amethyst Goldsmith—whoever would have thought? He’d left her shop two weeks ago with no intention of ever going back, ever purchasing another piece of jewelry, ever seeing her again. And now here she was, dropped—literally—right in his lap.
He could’ve laughed himself silly, if not for the tragic circumstances of their reunion.
She’d moved up in her sleep, and her head now rested against his leg. He smiled to himself, picturing her turning red with embarrassment if she knew. He allowed himself to touch her, skimming his fingers down her arm, encircling one dainty wrist.
Just to check that her pulse was still steady, of course—she’d doubtless inhaled a great deal of smoke.
It was quite steady.
For the dozenth time, he fervently thanked God she was alive.
When she stirred, Colin hastily withdrew. Amy murmured something incoherent, then settled back into sleep. Her long black lashes looked feathery against her ashy, tear-streaked cheeks.
Colin tore his gaze away and stared straight ahead at the congested road. The top of Amy’s head still pressed against his leg. Being near her felt so very different from being near Priscilla. He’d kissed Priscilla before, but never had he felt this…flustered. Yet she was his betrothed, and she was beautiful, intelligent, exactly what he wanted—and Amy was just a shop girl he’d smiled at once.
He was more familiar with Priscilla, he decided, more comfortable. He and Amy weren’t supposed to be touching—indeed, they certainly wouldn’t be if she were awake. It was simply the excitement of the forbidden masquerading as some deeper emotion.
And he wasn’t looking for emotion in his marriage. He’d told his sister as much just last night.
Heavens, had it been but a day since his family’s visit to Greystone? He felt ages removed from the fellow who had gleefully pulled that prank. It seemed as though he hadn’t slept in a week.
He paused before another inn and sent Davis to investigate. Scuffling sounds and a high-pitched shriek came from the back of the wagon. Colin’s empty stomach complained loudly, and he came to a decision.
They were stopping here. To eat, if nothing else.
They were in luck—of sorts. Davis came running back to report that there was room in the inn. One room, to be precise. With two beds. For eleven people.
Well, it was shelter, and Colin was inclined to think there might be nothing else available between here and Cainewood. He sent Davis to claim it before someone else pulled off the road.