The Dangerous Mr Ryder. Louise Allen

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      The man led the way up the stairs. Eva stopped dead at the bottom, the last traces of sleep banished. ‘Room? Wife? Which room are you in?’

      ‘Ours.’ Jack took her arm and began to climb. Without actual violence she had no option but to follow him. ‘Thank you.’ He took the branch of candles from the landlord’s hand and pushed her gently through the open door at the head of the stairs. ‘This looks excellent. Some hot water, if you will.’

      Eva stood in the middle of the room and looked around. One dresser, two chairs, a rug before a cold grate, a clothes press, a screen and a bed. One bed. ‘And just where are you sleeping?’ she enquired icily. Beneath her bodice her heart was thudding like a military tattoo.

      ‘With you. In that bed. Why? Where else do you expect me to sleep?’