The innkeeper's wife, already garbed in dressing gown and nightcap, had bustled ahead of them to light a fire in her finest chamber while her beaming husband had informed him that it wasn't every night they had the privilege of playing host to a gent and his lady. The woman was waiting in the doorway, candlestick in hand, when Hayden reached the top of the stairs. He slipped her an extra pound note to ensure they would not be disturbed until morning and she left them alone with a wink that was disarmingly girlish despite the snowy white braids that dangled to her rump. Hayden kicked the door shut, then tugged off Lottie's hat and gently laid her back on the bed they were to share. Like the rest of the inn, the quilt beneath her was faded, but clean. She sank into the feather tick with a sigh, but refused to relinquish her grip on his neck until Hayden gently reached around and unfastened her arms. Making a disgruntled face, she turned her cheek to the pillow and murmured something about French cakes and Mr.
