Chapter Twenty-Four
Rory
When we arrived at the bunkhouse, the proprietress, Mrs. Anderson, told us there was no availability. A large group of trekkers, who’d planned to camp out that night, decided to treat themselves to four walls, a roof, and real beds after the soaking they got on the trail that day. We could pay to use the showers, but there were no beds.
Amelia made a small sound, and when I looked over at her, she looked like she was about to sob. The whole day, she’d been so strong, bravely pushing through the pain and the cold and the wet with determination and a sense of humor, and now, when we finally reached the end of this day, she was going to be undone because of this?
Not if I could help it. “Mrs. Anderson, can you call over to the hotel and see if they have a vacancy?” The rooms there were expensive, but it would be worth it.
“Aye, of course, lovey,” she said. She knew me well after all this time.
She dialed a number and spoke for a moment, then covered the mouthpiece and looked up at us. “There’s one double room available.” She quoted a price that was high, but not as high as if it were a Saturday night. It didn’t matter—I’d pay anything for Amelia to have a bed.
“We’ll take it,” I said without hesitation. “Cheers, thanks.”
The look of relief in Amelia’s eyes was worth every pound I’d spend on the room. “I’ll shower at the bunkhouse and meet you for dinner at the hotel,” I said.
Her brow crinkled. “Shower at the bunkhouse? What are you talking about?”
“You can pay a few pounds to shower there even if you’re camping.”
“No, I mean, I know that—I read the sign. Why would you camp? We have a room.”
“No, you have a room.”
“You’re not going to share it with me?”
“Amelia, a double room means one double bed, not two beds.”
“I know what it means. And I’m not going to spend a nice cozy night in a real bed while you shiver in your tent on the hard ground!”
“I’ve camped in far worse conditions—and my sleeping bag is warm.” All true.
“Why are you being so difficult about this?”
“Excuse us a moment,” I said to Mrs. Anderson, who was watching us avidly, and led Amelia to the corner of the room. “I can’t share a bed with you. You’re a paying client, and it’s not appropriate.” Also true.
She scoffed at that. “First of all, who would even know? Second of all, barely an hour ago, you had your hands all over me, or have you forgotten? I think we left behind ‘appropriate’ two miles and a few rivers back.”
How could I forget? I could still taste her lips, still feel the shape of her breast against my hand, remember the way my body had fit against hers. But as much as I’d wanted to give in to the chemistry between us and make love to her in that cozy tent, I couldn’t. Amelia had been half-frozen, practically delirious. And though she had initiated the kiss, and seemed more than willing to take it wherever it might have gone, I couldn’t be sure she was truly of sound mind in that moment. It had taken every ounce of strength I had to tear myself away from her, and it had taken being submerged waist-deep in a river to finally quench the heat in my body.
“That won’t happen again,” I muttered. My focus had to be on getting her the rest of the way without further injury, not getting entangled with a lass who would be gone in a few days.
Her cheeks turned pink. “Whether or not that happens again also has nothing to do with you sharing the room with me,” she said.
“Amelia, I’m sorry, but we just can’t—”
Her eyes flashed with anger. “Rory, for God’s sake. I’m not going to force myself on you! I can take a hint, okay? Since you don’t want anything to do with me, it should make it easy for you to share the damn bed. But if you can’t handle it, then by all means, sleep in your goddamn tent.”
She turned and stalk-limped back to the desk. I stepped outside and walked a few feet away. I stared at the mountains and concentrated on my breathing, trying to calm my inner turmoil.
She thought I didn’t want her, but it was the complete opposite. I wanted her so much that I needed to keep my distance. She made me feel more than I’d felt in so long—whether we were fighting or trading stories, whether I was holding her against me in the icy water or curled around her in a sleeping bag, kissing her till the world outside faded away.
She had made my heart beat again, and she had the power to destroy it.
The door slammed behind me, and Amelia headed for the hotel, her back straight, her head held high, like the brave, feisty woman she was.
And though I knew I should stick with my original plan and camp outside, I couldn’t help but follow her.