They arrived at a posting inn. He gave a quick check in the carriage lot to see if his brother’s carriage was there, but there was no sign. That didn’t necessarily mean they weren’t inside. Perhaps they had changed their transport, though none of the carts and wagons seemed likely methods of transportation for a duke.

Likely the duke was simply ahead of them. They’d wasted time when the wheel broke and they had needed to repair it.

He sighed. If he were on his own, he would simply hire a horse and gallop on ahead. Georgiana probably could handle the coach on her own—she was clever, but he didn’t want to abandon her to the whims of fate. What if another wheel broke? What if highwaymen attacked?

Tall hedges loomed on either side of the coach, and Hamish scanned the area, just in case any highwaymen decided to waylay them.

He shook his head. They would catch up with his brother at Gretna Green.

The sun had not yet set, and the stucco inn was swathed in pink and orange light.

“The Old Goblet?” Georgiana asked, staring at the sign.

“Likely an exaggeration,” Hamish said optimistically, as he opened a wooden door and ducked underneath a low beam.

Patrons stared at them, and he was conscious of tension moving through Georgiana. Squeezing her hand seemed very appealing, though the action seemed of the tempting variety.

They would need to pretend to be married.

The thought caused him to smile, and he walked up to the proprietor. “My wife and I were hoping to spend the night here.”

The proprietor, a man with bushy white hair, nodded. “Very well.”

The other patrons looked curiously at them.

“And we’ll need dinner too,” Hamish said.

“I can send it to your room.”

Hamish glanced at Georgiana.

They couldn’t share a room.

They’d shared a coach last night, and he’d spent the time longing to claim her, even though he would have to deal with all the spatial challenges that the manufacturers had not accommodated for in their designs.

He’d never survive the night were they to be in the same room.

“We need two rooms,” Hamish said.

The innkeeper frowned. “But you are married.”

He cast a doubtful look on Georgiana which Hamish despised.

“Yes,” Hamish said. “It’s only—”

The innkeeper continued to look disapprovingly at them. “This ’ere is a right fine establishment. No riffraff. Or—er—ladies of the night.”

“He snores,” Georgiana said suddenly, and Hamish jerked his head in her direction. “Like a—”

“Thunderstorm,” Hamish finished, smiling.

She grinned back and something that was very much like magic flickered between them.

“A really terrible thunderstorm,” Georgiana said.

“I know there are not such bad thunderstorms in England,” Hamish said. “You might not understand the significance of it.”

“Think Scandinavia,” Georgiana said. “Imagine that Thor himself has decided to wage a bitter war from this man’s nostrils.”

The innkeeper widened his eyes and stared at Hamish’s nose. “I-I wouldn’t have guessed it.”

“It’s a hidden talent,” Georgiana said benevolently.

“Perhaps—er—you would be most suited for the barn.”

“I wouldn’t want to disturb your horses,” Hamish said. “They have to work in the morning to plow the ground.”

“Oh.” The innkeeper nodded. “That’s very thoughtful of you.”

“He has some good qualities,” Georgiana said.

Hamish gave a modest shrug, even while feeling wilder than he had for years.

He didn’t make up lies to tell people, even the kind that misrepresented his ability to sleep without disturbing people.

“Two rooms then.”

“Money is no hindrance,” Hamish said magnanimously.

“Well then.” The innkeeper said a number, and Hamish handed him some coin.

“Thank you.”

“Perhaps one day you can improve,” the innkeeper said gravely. “It is sad to see someone who struggles so with sleep when he’s so young.”

“Oh, I don’t struggle with sleep,” Hamish said.

“I have to throw a pail of water on him each morning to wake him up,” Georgiana said in an explanatory tone.

“I suppose I could get that for you,” the innkeeper said. He turned to his companion. “Can you—er—make sure this ’ere lady has a pail of water in the morning?”

The man nodded solemnly.

“That’s right unconventional,” the innkeeper said. “Perhaps I should try it on other guests.” He leaned forward. “Some of them sleep rather too well after a long night, if you catch my drift. It never occurred to me to douse them in water, though.”

“Oh, my wife is quite creative.”

“It might only work on my husband,” Georgiana said quickly, and the word “husband” sent a jolt through Hamish. “Most men might find the experience unpleasant.”

The innkeeper gave a thoughtful nod.

“I’ll—er—show you to your rooms.” The innkeeper grabbed two keys and then turned to Georgiana. “You don’t mind sleeping in the one next to his?”

Hamish had a sudden vision of one of the men sneaking into her room. “She doesn’t mind.”

The innkeeper handed them two keys. “You’re just upstairs at the end of the hallway.”  

They headed past stunned-looking patrons. Perhaps it hadn’t been completely necessary for Georgiana to say that he needed to have a bucket of water thrown over his head to wake him up. It probably also wasn’t necessary to be quite so dramatic when referencing his snoring, especially since Hamish had always been proud that he was not prone to snoring to begin with.

Hamish opened one room, and then the other. He peeked inside. “I believe this is—er—nicer. You’ll want this one.”

“Oh.” Georgiana blinked. “If you’re certain.”

“It has paintings of flowers in it. The other one has birds.”

“Neither are particularly architectural.”

“But you’ll prefer the flowers,” he said, and she smiled back.

God in heaven. The lassie had a magnificent smile. 

Footsteps sounded behind them, and Hamish and Georgiana both jumped away, as if to expand the distance between them as much as possible.

“Oh, I am sorry,” the innkeeper said. “I’ve just come with the bucket.”

*

“BUCKET?” GEORGIANA squeaked

“Yes,” the innkeeper nodded. “Should wake him up in no time in the morning.”

Right.

“Thank you,” Georgiana said.

“My pleasure.” The innkeeper strode through the room, and some water sloshed from the bucket onto the floor. “My. What a romantic couple you are. Especially given your husband’s snoring. That couldn’t have been a pleasant surprise. Makes you quite the angel.”

“Yes,” Hamish agreed, and Georgiana pinkened.

Georgiana wasn’t Hamish’s wife, and he didn’t think her an angel.

And yet, somehow the innkeeper’s babbling made her body warm, and she considered that it might be quite nice if both those circumstances were true.

Of course, they weren’t, and Georgiana forced the thought away.

They were friends. Nothing more. They were spending long hours on the coach, not in an effort to get to know each other, but so that Hamish might leave her with her sister and avoid anyone thinking he compromised her.

Her heart tightened, and she was grateful when the innkeeper left. She entered the bed quickly, not speaking to him, though her thoughts remained on him.