Читать книгу A Bungalow For Two - Carole Page Gift - Страница 12

“I don’t need the bedroom, Mr. Winslow. I’m fine right here on the couch,” Frannie declared with all the boldness she could muster.

“Nonsense, Miss Rowlands. You’re my guest. You take the bedroom and I’ll take the couch. It’s the least I can do.”

“All right, if you insist.”

“I insist.”

Relief washed over her. Thank heavens, he meant her no harm. He was just offering her a place to sleep! Still wrapped in her blanket, she got up off the couch and headed for the bedroom. She recalled the lock on the door. It meant she could rest without fear.

But when Scott followed her down the hall into the bedroom, her anxieties sparked again. He went over to the bed and pulled off a blanket. Then, seeing the expression on her face, he held up his palm in a gesture of peace. “Don’t worry, I’m just getting myself a blanket.” He looked back at the bed. “I could change the sheets if you want to wait a minute.”

Frannie waved him off. “No, thanks, I’ll probably just curl up on top of the bed.”

“Well, make yourself at home. You’re the first company I’ve had here. It’s nothing fancy, but I think you should be comfortable. I’ll put clean towels in the bathroom. Feel free to shower if you like.”

Frannie took a backward step and shook her head. “I’m pretty tired. I’ll just get some shut-eye.”

“Fine. Mind if I take one of the pillows?”

“Of course. They’re yours.”

Scott grabbed a pillow and tucked it under his arm with the blanket. He stood beside the bed for a moment, gazing at Frannie. In the soft glow of the hurricane lamp, he looked ruggedly handsome. “So I guess we’re all set, Miss Rowlands. Sleep well. I’ll see you in the morning.”

“Yes. Thank you. Good night.” As he started for the door, she said, “Wait! I forgot about Ruggs. I should bring him in here with me.”

Scott looked back at her and shrugged. “He’s fine sleeping by the fire. I doubt you’ll be able to rouse him anyway.”

“I know, but I just thought—”

Comprehension flickered in his eyes. “Oh, you think you’ll be safer with your dog in here with you. Is that it?”

“I—I didn’t say that.”

“But I can see it in your eyes. What do you think I’ll do, Miss Rowlands? Attack you in my own home? I assure you, you have nothing to fear from me.”

Her cheeks warmed with embarrassment. “I didn’t mean to offend you, Mr. Winslow. But you must admit we find ourselves in a rather unusual situation.”

“Circumstances always look worse in the midst of a howling storm. Don’t worry. Things will look infinitely better in the morning. Good night again, Miss Rowlands.”

As soon as he was outside the door, Frannie scurried over and turned the lock. With a sigh of relief, she sat down on the bed and let the blanket fall from her shoulders. Mr. Scott Winslow would have to break down the door to get to her now. The bedsprings creaked as she moved. She wondered if he was standing outside the door listening. Waiting.

She got up and glanced at her reflection in the bureau mirror. She looked ghastly, her makeup blotchy, her long blond hair disheveled. The flannel shirt hung on her like an oversize nightshirt, and the sweats were baggy. If only she felt free to take a shower and wash her hair. But that was a luxury she couldn’t afford right now. Mr. Scott Winslow seemed like a nice enough guy, but one never knew. There was no sense in taking chances and putting herself in harm’s way.