It was not a gentle evening shower. It was a sudden, torrential downpour. The rain lashed against the glass windows of the inn with brutal force. The dirt road outside instantly turned into a river of thick, freezing mud.
Delaney's shoulders slumped.
She let go of the door handle. She stood there, staring out the small glass window as the rain poured down in heavy, gray sheets. The weather had completely trapped them. The horses were too tired to pull a heavy carriage through thick mud in the dark, and they could not sleep outside in a storm.
Rowan watched her from the counter. He saw the defeat in her posture. He knew how much she cared about propriety, but he also knew he was not going to freeze in a carriage all night.
He smiled. It was a wicked, entirely charming smile. He walked right past her and went back to the innkeeper.
He leaned his large hands flat on the wooden counter.
"Give us the room," Rowan commanded smoothly.
