The Enchanted Inn Page 2

  Ruth clapped her hands. “Is that right? What a coincidence. Goes to show what a small world we live in.”

  “Seems a little odd to me,” Luke commented, pondering Ruth’s enthusiasm. Why was this stranger happy he’d known Gina? Something felt wrong about this too-convenient meeting. Jesus, Harding. Are you accusing some old lady of conjuring up a snowstorm to get you and Gina to spend the night together? “I mean, who would have thought that we’d both end up at this inn on the same night?”

  Footsteps coming down the stairs got his heart jack hammering. He looked over his shoulder. Gina stood at the bottom of the staircase, wearing a floor-length gray dress covered by a white apron, and an old-fashioned mop hat on her head. He blinked several times and the vision vanished. What the hell?

  Gina’s smile failed in the warmness department. She wore a black dress. Just a simple black dress. Not some old-fashioned outfit. Christ. Was he losing his mind?

  He soon forgot his vision and gulped a mouthful of wine. The simple black dress wasn’t quite as simple as he’d first thought. It ended at mid-thigh, and the low neckline left too much bare skin. Gina hesitated then straightened her shoulders and walked toward the couch with a natural grace he remembered too well.

  Ruth patted a spot on the couch beside her. “Come sit down, dear, and have a glass of my elderberry wine.”

  * * *

  Gina lowered herself to the cushion and tugged on the hem of her dress. She smiled again and murmured a thank you before swallowing a large mouthful of wine, hoping to drown the butterflies tickling her stomach. Luke had paled when she’d arrived, and she’d thought he might pass out. Had she changed that much in seven years? Her butt was still firm, her breasts high. She’d made damn sure her body stayed fit and trim. Hopefully, the makeup covered evidence of her sleepless nights.

  “Gina?”

  She snapped to attention. “I’m sorry. I was daydreaming.” She turned to Ruth. “Great wine. I’ve never tasted anything quite like it.”

  “Luke’s been telling me you two know each other.”

  Leave it to Luke. “Yes, unfortunately, that’s true.”

  “Gina!”

  She tilted her head at Luke’s outraged tone. “Should I lie and tell Ruth that this is a happy reunion?” She blocked out the hurt in her former fiancé’s brown eyes.

  “There’s no need to be rude.”

  “I’m being honest,” Gina retorted. “Besides, you expect me to believe that we ended up here together on Christmas Eve purely by accident?”

  Ruth added more fuel to the fire. “It does seem quite a coincidence.”

  Luke shot Ruth an astonished look before his face hardened in anger. Gina stared in fascination, amazed at how much he’d changed. He hardly resembled the man she’d once planned to marry. Where his face had once been smooth, it was now full of deep character lines. Not unattractive, but different.

  His lips twisted into a sneer. “What are you accusing me of now? Creating a blizzard?”

  “He’s got a point dear.” Ruth patted Gina’s arm. “That seems ridiculous.”

  Gina glared at her hostess. Talk about playing the devil’s advocate. Couldn’t the woman see her comments weren’t helping the situation?

  “Well,” Ruth continued. “The two of you are here together and there’s no sense in beating a dead horse.”

  “Ruth’s right, Gina,” Luke said in a calm voice. He’d reined in his anger. “We can at least be civil to each other.”

  Gina nodded, ashamed at her own behavior.

  “Well, then, now that the air is clear, why don’t you two enjoy your wine?” Before Gina could protest, Ruth had refilled her glass. She then poured more into Luke’s glass, ignoring him when he said he didn’t want any. “I’ll just mosey into the kitchen and prepare the first course.” With a wink, she rose and left the room.

  Gina sat stiff and unyielding.

  “Have the years been good to you, Gina? Are you happy? Still working in New York City?”

  She searched Luke’s face. Was he baiting her? Seeing nothing in his expression but genuine interest, she relaxed. “I’m still working in the City. Actually, I just landed a job with a large advertising firm.”

  He nodded. “So you achieved your heart’s desire.”

  Not quite. I lost you. She shrugged. “I guess.” Should she ask him the same question? Had he found his heart’s desire? No. She didn’t want to know.

  He didn’t wear a wedding ring, but that meant diddlysquat in today’s world. He was probably married with three or four kids. They’d always talked about having a large family. She closed her eyes to shut out the image of little boys with Luke’s quirky smile.

  “Gina?” A shiver went through her at the touch of his warm hand on her arm. “Are you all right?”

  She opened her eyes and blinked several times to clear the blur. Luke’s face was fuzzy, and his voice came from a great distance. She couldn’t understand his words. She needed to sit down before she fainted. Oh God, she was sitting down. A falling sensation overtook her—a feeling of having no control overwhelmed her. She grabbed for Luke, and he took her in his arms. Yes. This was where she needed to be.

  From the kitchen doorway, Ruth McPherson shook her head at the beautiful couple wrapped in each other’s arms, sleeping the sleep of the dead. What a shame that such drastic measures were needed to make some people realize the truth. The yellow cat purred and rubbed against her legs. “Oh well, Solomon, it’s time for the main course.”

  Chapter Three

  Gina woke to a god-awful pounding inside her head. Confusion swamped her brain before memory slammed into her with the force of a fullback’s tackle. Oh! My! God! She’d drank too much of Ruth McPherson’s wine on an empty stomach and passed out. Could life get any more embarrassing?

  Something heavy and hot pressed her into the couch cushions. She turned her head, her lips brushing warm skin. Her eyelids popped open, and she swallowed her heart as it leapt into her throat.

  Luke was sprawled across her body. A hard push gained her a grunt. He continued to snore softly. What had she done? Had too much to drink and had sex with her ex in Ruth McPherson’s living room?

  She needed to think. If only the pounding in her head would go away.

  A loud, querulous voice penetrated the thick fog surrounding her. “Anybody in there? Is this a public inn or ain’t it?”

  Her fingers curled into Luke’s chest. The hammering wasn’t in her head. Someone was pounding on the door. Where in the world was Ruth McPherson? Why didn’t she answer the freakin’ door? Gina redoubled her efforts to escape Luke’s weight.

  Luke cupped her face, his warm breath heating her cheek before his mouth claimed hers. Thoughts of resisting never materialized. The lazy sensuality of his kiss took her breath away. His tongue coaxed her lips open and boldly entered as if it lived there.

  Well-remembered sensations built between her legs. Her breasts ached for attention as they hadn’t in seven years.

  “You lusty wench. After last night you’ll have to marry me,” he murmured in her ear. “You’ve never been so willing.”

  Gina reeled with confusion. Lusty wench? Last night? Marry him? “Cut it out, Luke. Get off me.” She flattened her hands on his chest and pushed.

  Luke landed on the floor and grinned. “Good morning. What did you call me?”

  “You bastard! How dare you take advantage of me when I was drunk?”

  Luke propped himself up on an elbow and the twinkling humor in his eyes clouded to confusion. “What nonsense are you spouting, Rachel? You had not a drop of ale to drink. Are you addled?”

  Gina sat up, stunned. “Addled? Luke, what’s wrong with you? You’re scaring me. Why are you calling me Rachel?”

  He gracefully jumped to his feet. “What’s wrong with me?” A frown drew his brows together. “What is wrong with you? My name is John. Have you forgotten already? Who is this Luke?”

  “I’m not Rachel. I’m Gina.”

&nb
sp; In total confusion she stared at the man looming over her. He had Luke’s features, yet she realized he wasn’t Luke. This man’s hair was long, pulled into a ponytail, and the clothes he wore were from another century. Tight pants, knee-high riding boots and a white shirt with blouson sleeves.

  Gina grappled with a wave of dizziness. She scrambled off the hard bench—what had happened to the couch? She backed up and bumped into a long wooden table. Something was very wrong. Fear-pumped adrenaline raced through her veins.

  She glanced down at herself, and her level of terror shot off the charts. Gone was the chic mini-dress she’d worn last night. A gray dress made from a quality of cotton she’d never seen hung loosely on her body. The desire to flee ran rampant. In her haste to get upstairs, she stumbled on the hem of the dress. She hitched it up and grew more confused at the black boot-like shoes she wore. High with buttons on the sides. She clutched the front of her dress, her fingers following the buttons nearly to her neck. Over the dress, she wore a starched white apron. Much like the one Ruth McPherson had worn last night.

  “Well?” the stranger who looked like Luke asked. “Do you care to explain yourself? If you have grown tired of our trysts, Rachel, I have a right to know.”

  Gina swallowed the words so anxious to tumble from her mouth and watched him pace back and forth. Surely, she wasn’t mistaken about the worry she’d seen in this man’s face. He cared about her. The entire incident reminded her of a scene from a play set in colonial times. Trouble was she appeared to have a leading role. Her gaze scanned the room. Familiar, yet different. Last night she’d pegged the furnishings as being legitimate antiques or fine reproductions. Today they looked well-used. Light flickered inside sconces on the walls.

  Dirt filled the wide cracks between the pine floorboards. A huge black cast iron pot hung on a rod over a fire in the fireplace. Last night, the flames had flickered around three logs when she’d come down the stairs. Now the fire burned hot.

  The incessant pounding on the door ceased. Maybe whoever had been banging had gone away. Gina flinched when the door burst open and several people barreled into the room. A short, squat man with huge jowls and ferocious eyes under bushy eyebrows stepped forward, his chest puffed out like a strutting partridge. His gaze zeroed in on Gina. The full lips curved into a leer. “Ho, ho. The stable boy dallies with the maid. Not that I blame you, young man.” He laughed at his own joke.

  Gina’s fingers curled, her nails digging into her palms. Her face grew warm and she lifted a foot to kick the fat guy where it would hurt the most—in the balls.

  Luke loomed in front of her and grabbed her arms. “What in God’s name is the matter with you, Rachel? George will toss me out the door on my arse. And then who will protect you?”

  The coarse man cleared his throat. “We have traveled from Massachusetts, and we want rooms, baths and food. In that order.” The four guests trooped up the stairs, leaving her alone with the stranger.

  Tears clogged her throat. A few threatened to spill from the corners of her eyes. “Who are you? What have you done with Luke? Where’s Mrs. McPherson?”

  Luke drew a sharp breath. His hand trembled as he reached to touch her cheek. “Are you unwell, Rachel? I would suggest you go to the attic to rest, but I can’t handle four travelers alone. There are the baths, the food, and I must tend to their horses.”

  She ignored Luke’s comments about her health. “Where’s Ruth?” Gina demanded, unable to kept hysteria from her voice.

  He sighed and rested his hands on her shoulders. “Ruth McPherson has been dead well over fifty years, Rachel. George Haynes owns the inn now. If he returns from his trip to Boston and finds us dallying when there are guests, I’ll be tossed into the street, and you…”

  Gina’s fear heightened. What about her? Her heart fluttered. She’d only had one panic attack in her life, but knew the symptoms. God only knew what would happen if she hyperventilated. “What do you want me to do?” she asked in a voice not much above a whisper. Surely she’d soon open her eyes and escape this horrendous nightmare.

  “What is wrong with you? I have not time for your shenanigans. Do what you do every day. The travelers will be expecting a pitcher of ale and some vittles.” Luke turned on his heel and moved across the room to disappear through a small door.

  Gina whirled and raced toward the stairs. She’d go back to bed and later she’d wake up and it would be Christmas morning. She’d say goodbye to Ruth McPherson, wish Luke a merry Christmas and be on her way.

  At the landing, she burst into her room and stopped short. A naked man lay atop an equally naked woman, thrusting and grunting. He glanced over his shoulder. “What in tarnation?”

  Gina gaped at the entangled couple. “I’m…I’m sorry. I thought this was my room.”

  The man rolled off the bed and grabbed his pants off the floor. Gina couldn’t take her eyes off the huge erection jutting out from his groin.

  “Have you gone daft, Rachel?”

  He was the second person to ask her that question.

  “You sleep in the attic.” He pulled on his pants and fastened them. “Why aren’t you downstairs serving the guests? I heard them arrive. I got home late last night. Saw you and young John passed out in the common room.” He shot a lingering look at the lady in the bed. “I had other things on my mind. I have warned you and John. I will not tolerate carrying on beneath the roof of this tavern. Use the stable.”

  Gina straightened her shoulders. “I quit.”

  The fury on the man’s face brought immediate goose bumps to her arms. The skin of his face mottled with rage. “Quit? You have lost your mind! You are an indentured servant. You will work for me for the next five years. Twenty-four hours a day, if I so choose. That is, if I do not decide to sell you first.”

  Sell her? Gina stumbled backwards as he came toward her. Her back hit the wall. Her owner—she couldn’t remember who Luke, or was it John, had said he was—braced his hands on the wall on either side of her head. The stale smell of sex filled her nostrils. “I’ve told you how you can take a couple of years off the time.” He trailed his fat finger across her lips. “John ain’t got nothing I don’t. I know how to please a woman.”

  Gina gagged, ducked under his arm and fled the room.

  In her haste, she almost slid down the stairs. Luke, no, John—she had to start thinking of him as John—stood in front of the hearth, holding two wooden buckets. He sighed when she charged across the floor.

  “The owner is upstairs,” she said.

  “George? Are you sure?”

  Gina nodded. “He’s in bed with a woman. He told me he got in late and saw us.”

  John raked his fingers through his hair. “Damn. What else did he say?

  “He told me I was an indentured servant. Is this true?”

  John’s gaze searched her face. Gina hated the pity in his eyes. “You know that you are.”

  “No, I don’t know that. What did I do? What crime did I commit?” She held her breath, waiting for his answer.

  For a moment John stared at her with a puzzled expression. “You were arrested in Boston for stealing food.”

  Her mouth fell open. “Stealing food? Why would I do that?”

  “I imagine because you were hungry.”

  “Do… Do I have a family?”

  He shrugged. “Not that you have mentioned.”

  Good God. She’d slept with the man, and he knew hardly anything about her. “Are you an indentured servant, too?”

  “No. I receive wages.”

  “So you’re free.” Gina sighed and turned away.

  “Don’t forget the buckets.”

  “What should I do with them?”

  John’s exasperated expression frightened her. Be careful, Gina. She couldn’t afford to alienate her only friend and ally.

  “Fetch water from the spring. Same as you did yesterday and the day before.”

  “I need directions.”

  John closed the short distance b
etween them and grasped her shoulders. Gina cringed. His mouth opened and closed. Finally, he shook his head. “Follow the well-trodden path to the north.”

  Gina took the buckets he handed her. Their weight nearly pulled her elbows out of their sockets. Freakin’ things must weigh over ten pounds apiece. How would she ever carry them when they were full of water? And how many trips would it take to get enough water for five tubs?

  “Can’t you help me?” She winced at the whine in her voice.

  He shot her a look of impatience. An “I don’t have time for this” type of look. “I have to serve the ale and start breakfast.”

  Ale before breakfast? Great dietary habits. Seeing no other choice, she accepted her fate and turned to walk away, then stopped to look over her shoulder. “Luke?”

  “My name is John,” he said with hardly a glance in her direction. “What is it now?”

  “I’ll do the best I can. These buckets might be too heavy.”

  “You managed just fine yestermorn.”

  I did? “John, what day is today?”

  “It is Thursday.”

  “And the month and the year?”

  John rolled his eyes. “June, seventeen seventy-eight.”

  Sparkles danced before her eyes, and a loud buzzing started in her ears.

  John’s voice came from far away. “Rachel? Are you all right?”

  The feeling of faintness disappeared as quickly as it had come. Her vision cleared and she could hear again. She took a deep breath and continued her trek to the door.

  “Rachel?”

  She stopped and pivoted to look at him.

  “Watch for Indians. They have been raiding local farms the past few days.”

  Chapter Four

  The relentless sun beat down on Gina as if to mock her fright. She smothered the desire to run. She had no place to go.

  Back stiff, head high, she followed a path through tall grass for several hundred feet, trying not to flinch at every strange noise. Finally, she came to a square wooden structure covered by a large flat piece of slate. She pushed and yanked at the heavy top until sweat poured off her face. Her perseverance paid off, and the flat rock slid to the side. Putting it back on would be another monumental task. She’d worry about it when the time came.