Colin was tired and bloodied, and he had no choice but to climb back in through the window. Changing back into his smuggler’s clothes was impossible, and returning to the tunnels was equally impossible. He couldn’t risk another foray through the maze of smugglers’ tunnels running beneath the waterfront where he’d spent the major portion of the evening helping his band of smuggling compatriots unload casks of French wines and bolts of brocades and lace.
Colin had slipped away from the smugglers in order to dress for Lord MacMurray’s midnight reception. He’d thought he’d slipped away undetected, but someone had seen him. Someone had paid an assassin to lie in wait for him, and that meant the other man had either followed him or had known where he was going and why.
All in all, it had been one hell of an evening. The night was still young, and he was lucky to be alive. He hoped he could say the same come sunrise.
Colin inched his way along the ledge, past the first window and on to the second. He was almost there when he heard movement inside his room and realized someone was searching it. Pressing his back to the wall, Colin retraced his steps until he reached the first window.
This morning, he’d wondered how the lady inside that room would feel if he slipped inside her window instead of his own.
Now he’d have the chance to find out.
Retrieving his dirk from beneath his coat, Colin slipped the tip of the blade between the lock and the window casement and carefully eased the window open. He knew he was taking an enormous risk, but he meant the lady no harm. All he wanted was safe shelter from the cold. Colin had cheated death once tonight, and he didn’t fancy a confrontation with the men ransacking his room or a tumble from the ledge to the cobblestones below.
The room was pitch black. Colin thought there would be some light from the fireplace, but if there had been a fire in the grate earlier in the day, it had long since burned itself out. The room was almost as cold as the air outside. Colin crawled over the windowsill and closed and locked the window behind him. Biting his bottom lip to keep his teeth from chattering, Colin made his way across the room to the bed, praying all the while that the lady was alone.
Colin briefly considered spending the night in the chair by the window, but he was freezing, and there was no point in suffering the cold any more than he had to. He glanced at the woman on the bed, decided she wasn’t faring much better, and quickly eased himself onto the bed beside her.
She lay curled in a tight ball with her back to the door and the bed coverings pulled tightly around her. Colin relayed cautiously and sent a prayer of thanks heavenward that she was alone. With luck she would sleep until morning, and he’d be gone before she knew he was there.
But good fortune deserted him.
The woman stirred in her sleep, moving closer, seeking warmth as she pressed her back to Colin’s front.
Colin’s body responded immediately. He was fully clothed, down to this tall leather boots, and he lay atop the covers rather than between them, but he felt her through the layers of fabric and instantly regretted his impulsive decision to share his warmth.
“Colin? Is that you?”
Colin nearly leaped from the bed as she called him by name. He knew she couldn’t see his face in the darkness, but she had him at a complete disadvantage. She knew his name. And he hadn’t a clue about hers. Who the devil was she? And how in Hades had she come to know his name?
He breathed in the scent of her. The fresh, lemony fragrance emanating from her hair and her skin seemed woefully out of place at the Blue Bottle Inn. The light, delicate scent teased his nostrils and filled his senses, urging him to recall the face of the woman who wore it, but the only impression he had—of a pale, oval face framed by thick, dark hair—came from the glimpse he’d caught of her standing at the window and failed to produce any names or mental images, or memories of intimate moments.
“Colin?” she queried once again.
“Hmm?”
“I didn’t hear you come in.”
“You were sleeping.” He spoke in a hushed whisper. “I didn’t want to wake you.”
“You sound different,” she mumbled sleepily.
Colin cleared his throat and told as much of the truth as he dared. “I’ve caught a chill.” He didn’t like lying to her, but until he knew who she was, Colin couldn’t do otherwise.
“Move closer,” she urged, inhaling his scent. “Hmm…you smell like sandalwood. And something even nicer. Don’t worry. I’ll keep you warm.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” he answered honestly, moving away. “I’ll stir the fire and add some more coal.”
“Don’t bother,” she replied. “The fire’s been out all day, and I haven’t any coal to add.”
No wonder the room was like ice. “Why hasn’t the innkeeper brought coal for the fire?”
“Because I couldn’t pay for it,” she whispered. “I have no money.”
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“It doesn’t matter,” she told him. “What matters is that you’ve come back.”
Colin took a deep breath and then blew it out. “I haven’t come back to stay.”