It took him another hour or so to make his way back to the village. It wouldn’t have taken quite that long if he hadn’t made several wrong turns in the dark. Surprisingly, the puppy had fallen asleep in his pack, and the warm weight of him was calming against Ewan’s side.
When he reached the village, a quick survey of the inns led him to the one he considered the fanciest. Jasper didn’t care where he slept, but Neil was more particular, and he would never have brought a lady to a second-rate establishment. Ewan tried the door at The Queen’s Inn, but it was locked and barred. He knocked and no one answered. He knocked again, louder this time, and heard a grumbling from inside. Expecting an irate innkeeper, Ewan blinked when Neil answered the door.
He yawned. “I wondered when you’d finally make an appearance.”
“Did I keep you awake?” He gave Neil’s sleep-tousled hair and half-lidded eyes a pointed look.
“No, but your lady is probably pacing a groove in the wood floors.” Neil moved aside and Ewan entered the dark inn. In the public room, a lamp sat on one table and Jasper snored in a chair. Another chair beside it had probably been Neil’s bed.
“Is Lady Lorraine hurt?”
Neil shook his head. “She seems fine to me. She just about burst into tears from worry about you. Said she shouldn’t have asked you to go after the puppy. I told her you could take care of yourself.” He glanced up at Ewan. “And that love makes men do strange things.”
Ewan stilled in the act of removing his pack from his shoulder.
“Don’t tell me you intend to deny it,” Neil said. “Jasper and I can see it as plain as day. Rafe told everyone at the club a week ago, but we didn’t believe it.”
Ewan simply stared at him. What the hell had Draven’s Survivors seen that Ewan himself hadn’t? How could they know he was in love when he didn’t even know himself?
“So?” Neil asked after the silence had gone on for some time. “Do you love her?”
“I don’t know.”
“What do you mean you don’t know?” Jasper asked from his chair. Eyes still closed, he was obviously wide awake. “Hurry up and answer. I can’t sleep with all this twitter.”
Ewan spread his hands, trying to find the words he wanted. “How do you know?”
Neil gave him a horrified look. “How am I supposed to know?”
They both looked at Jasper, who had slung his legs over the chair and stood. “You’re both idiots. This isn’t that hard.”
“So you know?” Neil asked, crossing his arms.
“I read,” Jasper said. “Don’t act so surprised. I’ve read novels, so I know the symptoms.”
“The love symptoms?” Neil asked.
Ewan wished Wraxall would stubble it so Jasper could describe the signs.
“Right. When you’re in love, you feel sick to your stomach.”
“That’s called the grippe,” Neil said.
“Stubble it.”
“What else?” Ewan asked. He did not feel sick to his stomach. He felt hungry, but then he was always hungry.
“Your heart beats faster when you see the lady. You think about her all the time when you’re not together.”
“This sounds like an awful affliction,” Neil said.
“And you want to bed her. Desperately.”
“I take it back,” Neil said. “I’ve been in love several times.”
Jasper ignored him. “Any of those seem familiar, Protector?”
“No.” They all seemed familiar. He was starving because he hadn’t been able to eat when he’d been worried about Lorraine and searching for her. He could always eat. He’d taken time out of a battle to eat during the war. His heart did thump harder and faster when he saw her. He thought about her all the time, usually about what he would do to her if he had her in bed. That was two symptoms in one.
“Where is she?” he asked.
“Best room,” Neil told him. “Upstairs, left, all the way to the end.”
Ewan started for the stairs.
“Do you need a chaperone?” Neil asked.
“Hell no.”
*
Ewan stood outside her door, feeling his heart thump. Hell, he hadn’t even seen her yet. No nausea, but he wasn’t as hungry as usual. If he’d lost his appetite, the situation must be worse than he’d thought. He raised a hand to knock on the door, then considered the time.
It was after two in the morning. She must be sleeping, and he didn’t want to disturb her if she was resting. On the other hand, if she were tossing and turning with worry, he wanted to allay her fears.
He would not think about the sight of her tossing and turning in bed—her nightgown ruched up, her hair tousled around her rosy cheeks…
Ewan knocked quietly. He’d wait ten seconds and if—
The door opened, and Lorraine stood, wide-eyed and hopeful, on the other side. “You’re back!” She reached for him, but Ewan grabbed her wrist and glanced behind him to ensure no other doors had opened.
She would wake the entire inn.
He quickly pulled her inside and closed the door behind him, locking it. He was glad he had not waited until morning to see her. She hadn’t been sleeping. The bed was unrumpled and she wore an old green day dress that fit her a bit too snugly across her—and he had better look up at her face.
Her long straight hair fell about her shoulders and down her back, a few strands still damp. The room was full of a scent that reminded him of rain and flowers, and it clung to her as well.
“Thank God you are safe,” she said, lowering her voice but not her enthusiasm. “I was so worried, and I knew if anything happened to you it would be all my fault for sending you after the silly dog.”
Ewan frowned at her. Now the dog she had made him promise to fetch was silly?
She raised a hand. “Not that Welly doesn’t mean everything to me, but I would rather only one of you lost and alone in the woods than both of you.”
“I was not lost.” He pulled the sleeping dog from his pack. “Or alone.”
“Welly!”
Ewan gritted his teeth, fighting the urge to put a hand over her mouth. Did she want the entire inn to know he was in her chamber?
He handed the dog to her, and she cuddled it in her arms as though it were a baby. She buried her face in the dog’s fur, and when she looked up at Ewan, tears shone in her eyes. “Thank you. You don’t know how much this means to me.”
Hell, if he’d known she would cry about it, he would have left the dog until morning.
She closed her eyes and rocked the dog. “How can I ever thank you?”
“No more crying.”
She burst out laughing, and the dog gave a loud snort of disapproval at being disturbed. With a laugh, she gathered a blanket from the bed, placed it on the floor near the hearth, and settled the dog on it. Ewan shook his head. Leave it to her to take a perfectly good blanket and throw it on the floor.
The woman was daft, and if he kept thinking of her that way, perhaps he could forget the pain in his chest every time he looked at her. She gave the dog a last pat and stood, turning to face him.