Free Witch Hunt (Witch Finder 2) by Ruth Warburton

whispered into the darkness, and she felt his weight shift minutely beside her as he tried and failed to find a comfortable position, his body perched precariously on the metal edge, as far away as he could get without falling out.
    ‘Goodnight, Rose,’ he whispered back. His voice melded into the darkness, its Cockney twang comforting: G’nigh’ Rose  . . .
    And then silence . . . just the sound of his breathing, first shallow, then slowing and deepening by degrees.
    She should have been tired. She should have been exhausted. But she could not sleep. She lay in the darkness, feeling Luke’s presence beside her and pondering the impossibility of it all.
    You’re ruined , she thought, remembering Clemency’s words. If anyone knew you’d spent the night with a man  . . . And not just a man. A stable-hand. An outwith. Luke.
    Beside her Luke’s muscles had begun to relax in sleep and his arm had fallen by his side, touching hers. She thought again of the smooth bare skin beneath his coat and shirt, the blue veins, the muscles that flexed and shaped as he moved, and the mark of the brand on his shoulder – how different it was from her own sharp curves and narrow bones. He was the first man whose body she had touched, and now she was lying in bed with him, so close she could have reached out and slipped her hand beneath his shirt as he slept.
    At the thought she felt blood flush through her like a fire, her cheeks blazing. The ring on her finger seemed to pinch agonizingly tight, and she could not breathe.
    It’s Luke , she thought furiously. Stop it, stop thinking like this .
    Thank God he was asleep and knew nothing of what was passing through her mind. She closed her eyes in the darkness, listening to the slow, regular rhythm of Luke’s breathing, and slowly, slowly, she let it lull her into sleep.

‘W ell!’
    The voice cut through Luke’s dream like a knife, and he jerked out of sleep, his heart pounding wildly, trying to work out where he was and what was happening.
    There was something heavy on his chest and shoulder, a warm and yielding weight, and as his blinking eyes adjusted to the light he realized, with a tingle of shock, that it was Rosa, curled inside his encircling arm. Her cheek was pressed against his shoulder, her mouth warm in the crook of his neck, and her arm was flung across his ribs, pinning him down as he struggled to sit up and face the landlady standing at the foot of the bed.
    ‘Funny way for a brother and sister to carry on,’ she said with a sour triumph.
    ‘Get out!’ Luke found he was shaking with rage. He managed to extricate himself from beneath Rosa’s arm and stood, pulling his shirt straight with hands that trembled. ‘How dare you come into a room we’ve paid for?’
    ‘It’s past ten. You’ve paid for one night and unless you want to pay for another, it’s you that’ll be getting out, my lad, and your “sister” with you. Little slut ,’ she added under her breath as she turned away.
    Luke’s fist clenched. He shut his eyes, forcing himself to count to ten as William had taught him as a boy. Nothing to be gained by hitting out, Luke lad. That only puts you in the wrong as well .
    ‘We’ll be out,’ he said stonily. ‘We need to be on our way in any case.’
    ‘Ten minutes,’ the woman snapped. ‘A moment longer and I’ll send Henry up here to throw you both out.’
    ‘Get out,’ Luke snarled.
    ‘With pleasure,’ the woman snapped, and she banged the door behind her so hard the windowpane rattled in its frame.
    In the bed, Rosa opened her eyes and sat up, blinking and astonished, raking her long red hair out of her eyes.
    ‘What was that noise?’
    ‘Landlady,’ Luke said shortly. ‘We overslept.’
    ‘Wh-what?’ She gave a great yawn. ‘What time is it?’
    ‘Gone ten, she said.’
    ‘Ten?’ Rosa was up and out of bed in one movement. ‘You said we had to be on the road by dawn!’
    ‘Like I said, I overslept.’
    ‘Oh God, we