Authors: Amanda Grange
One Snowy Night
ONE SNOWY NIGHT
AMANDA GRANGE
© Amanda Grange 2012
The
moral right of the author has been asserted
No
part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or
transmitted in any form or by any means without the prior permission in writing
of the publisher. Nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover
other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition
including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
This
book is a work of fiction. The characters and incidents are either fictitious
or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to any real person or incident is
entirely coincidental and not intended by the author.
First
published in hardback by Robert Hale Ltd. under the title of Rebecca’s Refusal
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Ah, well! At least nothing else can go wrong today,
thought Miss Rebecca Foster as she made her way up the stairs of the coaching
inn, a lighted candle in her hand. And thank goodness for that!
The freezing cold day in
the January of 1814 had been full of trials and tribulations. In the morning
Rebecca’s companion, Miss Biddulph, had been taken ill and Rebecca, whose
journey was urgent, had had to leave her in the care of a local apothecary.
Then Rebecca’s coach had become stuck in a snow drift, delaying her so badly
that she had been forced to seek a room at an inn, instead of travelling on to
her aunt and uncle’s house in
London
.
She had taken the last
room, and as it was very cold she had told her maid to leave the unpacking
until a fire had been lit and the room had warmed through. Then she had retired
to the parlour for something to eat, and now she was looking forward to returning
to a cheery glow and settling down for the night.
She reached the top of the
stairs and turned along the corridor, glad of the flickering candle which lit
her way. She reached her room and opened the door, and then stood stock still.
For there, standing not six feet away from her, was a strange gentleman - in
the act of undressing!
Her first thought, as she
took in the unexpected apparition, was that she must have returned to the wrong
room, but a glance around the apartment told her otherwise. It was the same
small chamber she had taken earlier that evening, with its dark red paper on
the walls and its thick rug covering the floor. The only difference was that
the fire was now aglow.
Her second thought was
that, if she had not mistaken the room, then the gentleman must have done so.
She was about to point this out to him when he turned around and her courage
faltered, for she became uncomfortably aware that he looked very like a lion.
He had glowing eyes, strongly contoured features and a thick mane of tawny
hair. His lithe and muscular body, clad in breeches and a half-buttoned shirt, continued
the impression of a jungle animal.
Realising she must speak
before her courage failed her, she said, ‘I do not know what you are doing here
but I would be obliged, sir, if you would immediately leave the room.’
‘Now why would I do that?’
he asked, looking at her as though she were his next meal.
‘Because you have no right
to be here. This is my room,’ she said.
‘It doesn’t seem that way
to me,’ he returned.
Thinking that he had
arrived to find the inn was full, but that he had somehow stumbled into an
empty room and decided to keep it, she said, ‘I took it earlier this evening,
the room is mine, and as I am not about to give it up, I would be obliged if
you would be on your way.’
He looked at her levelly.
‘Would you indeed? I am
sorry to disappoint you, but I have no intention of leaving.’
‘Neither have I,’ returned
Rebecca, stepping firmly inside the door.
‘No?’ His eyes took on a
predatory look and his mouth curved as he removed his cravat and threw it on
the bed. ‘I am very pleased to hear it. Then by all means, stay!’
She was about to take him
at his word and sit on the bed when she had the alarming feeling that he would regard
it as an invitation. There was something very particular about the way his eyes
were travelling across her ebony locks, her porcelain-white skin and her
naturally red lips, before drifting down over her delightful body. It made her
feel very weak in the knees.
Knowing that she must
bring the matter to a hasty conclusion, she said, ‘I only left the room to take
supper downstairs, I cannot think how you came to be here, but I must ask you
to go.’
‘A good try.’
His mouth curved
sardonically in evident disbelief and, as if to stake his claim, he continued,
provocatively, to undress.
Rebecca swallowed and was
momentarily nonplussed, but she had no fancy to spend the night sharing a bed
with her maid. Reminding herself that she came from a long line of determined
people who had risen from poverty to prosperity by persevering against the
odds, she said, ‘If you do not believe me you may ask the innkeeper.’
But he casually swept her
challenge aside.
‘I haven’t the slightest
interest in asking the innkeeper,’ he returned. ‘The room is mine and I intend
to use it.’
‘Do you mean to tell me
that you have paid for it?’
‘I have indeed, and paid
handsomely, this being the last room at the inn.’
‘Then it seems there has
been some double dealing,’ said Rebecca, realising that the innkeeper, seeking
to make as much money as possible out of the calamitous weather conditions, had
double let the room. ‘In a situation such as this a gentleman would customarily
defer to a lady —’
‘Would he? You have been
in a similar situation before, then?’ he asked wickedly.
‘No, not precisely, but —’
Her mouth dried as he
pulled his shirt out of his breeches and her next words refused to come out. He
had undone all the buttons, which ran from neck to chest, and he was lifting
his arms as if he was going to remove it altogether. She had a sudden urge to
flee – until she realized that that must be his intention, and so she stiffened
her resolve and continued.
‘ . . . but . . . ’ she
said, stopping again in mid-sentence as he pulled his shirt over his head, his
muscles rippling as he did so. She swallowed. ‘In that case,’ she said again,
trying not to look at his tanned and muscular chest, ‘I am sure you would not
want to deprive me of somewhere to sleep tonight.’
‘No. You’re right. I
wouldn’t.’
She breathed a sigh of
relief as she realized he was going to give way after all. And not a moment too
soon, for she was not sure how much longer she could have persevered. She had a
strong character, but she was beginning to discover that the gentleman in front
of her had one that was as at least as strong as her own.
Her relief was short
lived, however, for his eyes caressed her again, more intimately than before. Then
he threw his shirt on the bed and said outrageously, ‘You’re welcome to share.’
To her annoyance she felt
herself blush, but she was determined to have one last try.
‘Am I to understand that
you refuse to leave the room?’
‘Yes, you are,’ he said
with a mocking smile.
She was not a woman who
liked to admit defeat, but she knew when she was beaten. The only course left
to her was to retreat with as much dignity as possible.
Saying haughtily, ‘Then it
seems that I must be the one to leave,’ she turned and walked out of the room.
Once in the corridor she berated
the innkeeper soundly under her breath. She would have berated him soundly to
his face as well if she could have found him, but he had made himself scarce.
The innkeeper’s wife, too, was nowhere to be found, and so she was left with no
alternative but to retire to her maid’s attic room.
‘Oh, Miss, I was just
coming,’ said the girl.
She lifted a pile of
nightclothes out of the trunk that was open by the bed and headed for the door.
‘I am afraid there has
been a muddle, Susan,’ said Rebecca. ‘My room has been given to someone else.
We will have to share.’
She sank onto the bed,
annoyed, for she did not like to be bested. Her one consolation was that she would
be leaving the inn first thing in the morning and so she would never have to see
the leonine man again.
Her thoughts were not shared by the man in question, who would have
been very happy to see her again. He had met many spirited wenches in his time,
and many meek young ladies, but her combination of spirit and gentility was new
to him. And that blend of dark hair, ruby red lips and porcelain skin was very
attractive.
He should have been annoyed with her for trying to steal
his room, and for inventing such a plausible story in order to drive him out, but
instead he admired her for it. He had always been a man to take what he wanted,
and it was not often he met with a kindred spirit. What a pity she had not
accepted his offer to share his bed!
He indulged himself with memories of her delicate face
and curvaceous figure, before he suddenly frowned. It was strange, but somehow
she reminded him of someone. But then he shook his head. No. She could not
remind him of anyone. He knew no one with such striking colouring. And yet
there had been something. Something about her determined manner and the shape of
her chin . . .
No. It was gone. He could not catch it.
Oh, well, she had provided him with an interesting
interlude in his journey down to
London
, but it was probably a good thing she had not accepted his offer of
sharing his bed, because it was serious business that had brought him back to
England
, and he had no time for
distractions.