The sun had already begun to set by the time the rooftops of Blackmere came into view—just a jagged line of stone and slate beneath the thick, gray clouds. Edeana's legs were numb, her fingers stiff around the reins, but the sight of the village gave her a second wind.
Blackmere sat nestled in the valley of the northern hills, the kind of place that looked as though it had been forgotten by time. Smoke curled lazily from a handful of chimneys. Snow piled high against the timbered walls. A church steeple leaned slightly to the west, and next to it, the dark, narrow shape of an inn loomed at the end of the road.
Devlin slowed as they approached, his stallion snorting in the cold. Edeana reined in beside him, grateful for any excuse to stop moving.
"The Boar's Rest," he remarked, nodding toward the inn. "I stayed here once. It was tolerable."
"Does it promise more than a roof and a warm meal?" Edeana replied, her tone wry.
He gave her a faint, crooked smile. "Not much more, I confess. But the stables are warm, and the walls stay intact even in the worst of weather."
They dismounted in the yard of the inn, their muscles stiff and aching from the long ride. Edeana swung one leg over the saddle, preparing to dismount. But as she went to step down, her foot caught on the stirrup, and she lost her balance, swaying dangerously to the side.
Fully expecting the sharp sting of impact with the cold ground, she was instead caught by a steady hand at her waist. Devlin's grip was quick and sure, pulling her back upright. A warmth spread across her skin, surprising her with its sudden intensity.
"Easy," he murmured, his voice low and steady, a quiet command in the midst of the chaos.
Edeana blinked up at him, surprised by the unexpected gentleness in his touch. "My apologies," she said with a faint laugh, a bit embarrassed. "I seem to have lost feeling in my legs sometime after our midday meal."
He gave her a small, reassuring smile, his expression softening. "No need for apologies. Come, let me help you."
With one arm still around her, he guided her feet to the ground, his touch grounding her more than she'd anticipated. Her heart quickened, but she quickly masked the fluttering sensation with a steady breath, grateful for his help—but unwilling to show how much it affected her.
Once she was steady, she stepped back, creating a little space between them, hoping to regain some semblance of composure. "Thank you."
"Of course." Devlin's gaze lingered a moment longer than necessary, his eyes warm as they met hers. "I do believe somewhere in the clergyman's sermon this morning, he instructed me to 'cleave onto my wife.' I'm nothing if not excellent at following instructions."
Edeana's cheeks flushed, though she quickly recovered, meeting his teasing smile with one of her own. "Yes, I suppose I do have the clergyman to thank for that," she said dryly, though the flutter in her chest was hard to ignore.
Devlin chuckled softly, his hand lingering for a moment before he let her go entirely. "Shall we head inside? I suspect there's warmth—and perhaps something stronger—awaiting us."
As they handed their reins to a sleepy-eyed stable boy and stepped into the inn, Edeana felt a peculiar warmth in her chest, even as the wind howled behind them.
Inside, the inn was dim and smoky. The scent of roasting onions and damp wool clung to the low-beamed ceiling. A stocky woman with a red kerchief and a harried expression appeared from behind the counter.
"'Tis but one room left," she said, keys jangling at her belt. "If you're keen, I kenna send mi boy up to start a fire and a batch of warm blankets for ye."
Edeana opened her mouth to protest—then thought better of it. They were married now. Sharing a room—perhaps even a bed—was to be expected. She just… hadn't let herself think that far ahead.
"That would be most welcome, mistress," Devlin said, his voice light and courteous. "And if it's not too much trouble, might we also ask for a bath?"
The woman gave him a skeptical look. "If you be meaning to take yer bath in yer room, there's a better chance for boars to be flying over our roof. Tubs are kept in the bathhouse out back. Water's cold, it's goin ter cost yer extra to have it heated."
Devlin inclined his head. "Then we'll take the bathhouse preferably with hot water for at least one of the tubs. My wife here has had a long ride, she's not used to travelling long distances you see—she could use the warmth."
The innkeeper studied them a moment longer, then let out a faint smile. "A thoughtful husband, you are. Right then, I'll have mi boy get the fires going out there. Might cost you another crown."
"Gladly," Devlin replied without hesitation.
Left alone in the entryway, Edeana adjusted the fall of her cloak, suddenly aware of how close Devlin stood beside her. The air between them seemed heavier now, filled with unspoken thoughts neither had quite the courage to voice.
"You didn't have to do that," she murmured. "I'm sure I will survive without a warm bath."
Devlin tilted his head, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "Yes I did. You're weary, and I doubt you'd have asked for yourself."
She gave a small shrug, eyes fixed on the scuffed floorboards. "Still, you didn't have to make me out to be some delicate flower."
"Would you rather I'd said I wanted a bath for myself and left you to shiver in the cold?"
Before she could respond, the boy returned—a wiry lad with a crooked grin and a large brass key in hand. "Bath'll be ready in a bit. Cook's had the kettle on, so there's hot water for one. This way."
They followed him down a narrow corridor and out through a crooked back door into the dusk-chilled yard. The bathhouse stood a few paces away, squat and made of stone, with steam curling lazily from the slatted vents in its roof.
Inside, the air was damp and warming by the hearth. Two wooden tubs stood beneath the rafters, set a few feet apart with a flimsy screen of linen and wood slotted between them. One of the tubs already steamed, water lapping gently near the rim. The other was half-filled, cooler, with a second kettle set nearby to take the edge off.
Edeana stepped forward, tugging at her cloak as the warmth seeped into her frozen fingers. Her gaze flicked to the screen, then to Devlin.
"I insist you take the hot bath," he said, already setting his coat aside. "It'll help me rest better tonight knowing that I've provided some comforts after our unfortunate start this morning."
She tried to hide her smile, though her racing heart betrayed her. "I suppose if you insist, dear husband"
"Yes I truly do, mi wife" he murmured.
She slipped behind the screen as he busied himself with the fire beneath the kettle. The partition offered little more than a suggestion of privacy—thin fabric silhouetted her shape in the glow of the lantern, and every splash echoed in the close space.
Devlin kept his back turned, his gaze fixed on the flame. He heard the soft rustle of fabric, the creak of the tub as she settled into it, and then a quiet sigh as the warmth embraced her.
"You should take what's left in the kettle when it's ready," she said softly from the other side.
"I'll be fine," he replied. "Don't worry about me."
A pause. Then, almost inaudible: "I wasn't."
The lie hung gently between them like steam, unchallenged but not unnoticed.
Devlin added another log to the fire, the scent of pine resin rising as the flames crackled. The silence between them stretched, not uncomfortable, but charged with something quieter than words.
In the dim light, with the sounds of the inn far behind them and only the flicker of firelight to mark the space they shared, something delicate settled between them—less than affection, more than formality. Not yet warmth, but the shape of it