An unpleasant smell tickled Sara's nose. It was made up of ale, smoke and sweat from men in an age where bathing was a rarity. She heard the whiny voice of the innkeeper once again tell Grissom that there were no rooms available -mumbling to himself 'at least not for the likes of him, an American'. Having had enough of the man's surliness, she reached out for Grissom's arm, laying her hand on it serenely. With a false smile lifting the corners of her mouth, she quietly but loudly enough to be heard, said, "Dr. Grissom. If this man is not willing to lend out a room for the night then perhaps we should go elsewhere with our coin. I am sure someone would be willing to accept 'good' money."
Grissom turned to her with a look of astonishment on his face, but she, after glancing his way briefly, stared past him at the snotty innkeeper. His mouth was ajar, gaping at her. The word doctor must have registered some finite intelligence in the man's little brain. "Er, uh, Doctor Grissom. Perhaps we have a private room that would be available. It's a bit more expensive but it is really the only room available tonight."
Grissom swiveled back to meet the man's eyes. He nodded toward the man, asking, "And how much would you be charging us for this 'private' room?"
"Er, umm, it," the man stumbled on his words. Sara lost all attention on the rude man and what he was telling Grissom as she scanned the room behind her. For a woman that used Nonoxinal-9 on everything in sight when traveling, she was going to have a tough time staying in a place such as this. She'd be bathing at every chance. Silence behind her made her turn back with concern to Grissom, she watched as the innkeeper disappeared into a back room. She was about to ask him where the man had gone when he suddenly reappeared next to them. "If you'll follow me, please, I'll show you to your room, Dr. and Mrs. Grissom."
Sara waited a moment until she realized that Grissom was waiting for her - just as a gentleman should. She followed the innkeeper up the stairs and down the long hallway to a room situated at the end of the corridor. He opened it with a squeak and waited for her and Dr. Grissom to enter. Her stomach rumbled reminding Sara they hadn't eaten. She met Grissom's gaze and asked him, "Would you please ask them to provide a small meal?" She then turned back to the rest of the room as she heard Grissom repeat her request. It would have been improper for her to ask the innkeeper herself in Grissom's presence. The door closed and she finally allowed herself to relax.
Too tired to even think about what might be on the bed, she flung herself backwards on it and closed her eyes. A candle, near the wash basin at the far end of the bed, softly lit the room. The light flickered gently as a result of the draft emanating from the poorly shut small window. Even with her eyes closed, she sensed the room had darkened quite perceptibly. She opened them again to see Grissom looming over her - his face unreadable in the darkness.
"Sara, how are you feeling?" he asked, sitting next to her on the bed. She had an urge to slide away but held her ground. They were going to have to share the bed soon anyway. She was now able to see his face clearly and saw the worry etched on it.
"I'm all right, just very tired. My head is starting to throb slightly as well." She began to massage the side of her head as she mentioned it. The bed jostled slightly as Grissom moved forward and placed his hands on top of hers and on the other side of her head. She immediately dropped her hand at his warm touch. His body, nearly fully over her, was taut as he held himself up while massaging her temples. "Hmm, I could get used to this, Dr. Grissom."
"I'm sure you could, Mrs. Grissom," he rejoined. She had closed her eyes as he massaged her temples but she couldn't help looking up into his eyes when he called her Mrs. Grissom. The sound of his voice caressed her as the words rolled off his tongue. He had no idea what feelings that name stirred in her. She sighed contentedly as he continued his ministrations. It didn't continue for long.
They were interrupted by a knock at the door. Grissom rose slowly, trying not to jostle the bed in an attempt to keep Sara's headache from worsening. He answered the door and was greeted by a serving maid carrying a tray laden with meat, cheese, bread and fruit, along with two cups and a decanter. She bobbed a curtsy and then entered the room as he held the door open for her. Her eyes darted to Sara as she set the tray on the table. Sara slowly rose from the bed, clutching at her head as the pain worsened. The girl, knowing her station, asked softly, "Does the missus need anything? Perhaps some headache powder?"
Sara squinted at the girl as she awaited an answer. "That would be greatly appreciated. I thank you for your kindness and forethought." The maid curtsied again and left the room.
Before she could stand to move towards the table to eat, she felt Grissom approach and then sit next to her. "Are you sure you're okay? You don't look like it or sound like it," he asked, his voice smooth and tender.
"I'm okay, Gris. We haven't eaten for a couple of days, at least not anything nutritional. I just need some food and then sleep." It wasn't until then that she looked up to meet his gaze. She had to be mistaken. She could swear she saw love in the dark blue depths. Not the passionate, lustful sort of love, but the tender, caring and endearing look of love.
It must have been too much for him, too much emotion, because he looked away quickly then stood and walked to the table. He removed the white cloth from over the food and took a piece of meat before seating himself. Sara slowly but steadily made her way over to the table, and sat across from him. Choosing a couple of pieces of cheese and fruit, she munched lightly on them while eyeing the meat. "I forgot how much meat they ate. I'm going to have a tough time getting around that."
Grissom glanced back at her then chose another piece of meat as he mused aloud, "Your performance was quite compelling earlier. You must've done some extensive reading to get that lexis correct."
At first, Sara wasn't sure what he'd meant until it hit her that he must have meant her interruption with the innkeeper. A smile lit her face. "Yes, extensive," she dead-panned. Watching his head turn so fast almost made her dizzy. She pointed to him as she choked out on a laugh, "You should see your face. It wasn't that much Gris, I read to escape sometimes. I didn't research it. I haven't actually read one in quite a while and before that was back in college."
Grissom joined in the laughter then they fell into a companionable silence as they finished the food and wine provided for them. The maid returned with the powder and Sara asked her if she knew when the next public conveyance would be in. The maid responded that there would be one in the morning since the drivers were spending the night there. Sara nodded to her then dismissed the maid to return to her chores. She took the bottle of powder and deciding that she'd probably not like the taste, she added some to her wine.
At first, Sara thought she'd gained some of her wind back but as soon as she stood she felt her body become lead and her feet had to drag her over to the bed. She was about to climb up on it when she felt a hand on her back, steadying her. Grissom reached in front of her to pull back the covers then he held her elbow as she started to lie down. He removed her shoes and laid them at the foot of the bed as she slid her feet under the covers. He was again at her side before she could reach for the blankets, tucking her in. She turned on her side facing the middle and started to drift off. Sitting on the bed next to her he lightly traced her cheek as he watched her eyes close. "Thank you," she whispered drowsily.
"You're welcome. Mrs. Grissom." A smile played on her lips from his repetition of the name. After a few moments, Sara felt the bed jostle again. Turning to her other side, she watched him pull out the clothes from the field kit and make a pillow of them on the floor. "Grissom, no. We've slept the last two nights in each other's arms on the hard ground. Does sleeping in a bed with me really disturb you that much?" He opened his mouth to argue, but she interrupted him. "Come to bed, Dr. Grissom," she said, in a voice that would brook no argument.
Not wanting to evoke any more fear in him, Sara remained facing the middle of the room as Grissom went around the bed and quickly divested himself of his clothes. She felt the added weight on the bed and the cool draft of air as he lifted the sheet. He scooted further down under the covers and Sara fought the urge to turn over to face him. She knew that most marriages of the time, especially in the higher echelon, didn't sleep in the same bed. But she wasn't about to let him in on that fact. If he figured it out later, fine. But for now, she wanted him to get used to having her in his bed. A smile crept up her face as he blew out the candle and darkness fell over them.
Sara's sudden movements awoke her as she was in the middle of a swift kick of the covers. She was hot, very hot. The last two nights she'd had to keep warm by curling against Grissom's side, but now she had a sheet and a rather heavy quilt covering her. Not to mention the clothes she'd been wearing. Remembering that Grissom had undressed before joining her, she quietly rolled out of the bed and removed the hot and itchy dress. Her body temperature immediately decreased several degrees. Wearing only her panties and her bra, she sighed with relief before climbing back into the bed.
"Feel better?" Grissom's soft voice startled her. She'd thought he was still asleep.
"Much. I was so damn hot," she replied just as softly. "I'm sorry if I woke you. Was it my kicking the covers or my getting out of bed that did it?" she asked dryly.
"Actually, it was the talking in your sleep that woke me." She could hear the smile hidden amongst his words.
"I do not talk in my sleep," she countered sheepishly.
She waited for a reply but he didn't come back with anything to confirm whether she had been or not. Trying to remember what she'd been dreaming, she thought about the many times she'd wake up much the same way. Except, in those moments, her kicking and her sweating were due to the erotic images in her dreams - the ones in which Grissom visited her. "What, umm, what did I say?"
"Nothing."
Shit, shit, shit. What did I say? She couldn't remember her dream and she was wishing in this instance that it really was just the heat that had woken her up. "Please tell me," she squeaked out.
"I don't think I've ever heard you call me by my first name before." Amusement was definitely laced within his words this time.
It wasn't the heat. Sara groaned then slowly pulled the covers over her head and buried herself under them, hiding from her embarrassment. She was sure that his name wasn't the only thing she'd said.
"Sara? Sara? Come on." Grissom soothed but stifling a laugh, tugging on the blanket to try to uncover his faux wife. "If you continue to bury yourself in there, you're going to get too hot again." He was holding back his laughter and Sara had never been so tempted to smother another person in her life. He was getting enjoyment out of her discomfiture.
She threw back the covers and sat up, facing the head of the bead, her feet tucked under her. "I just, er, I was having a bad dream," she huffed, her exhale of breath blowing the hair in her face out of the way.
"It didn't sound like a bad dream to me," he chuckled.
With a guttural moan, she grabbed her pillow and swung to where she thought his head was located. Hearing a grunt, she knew she'd met her target. But the pillow was grabbed from the other end and pulled out of her grasp, sending her falling forward until she landed on his chest. She tried to pull herself away as he grasped her left arm and his other arm supported her back, holding her captive against him.
"Sara, don't move." She halted immediately at his gruff voice. It soon was apparent to her why he didn't want her to move. While her body was held against him, her legs straddled his left leg. She could feel the hot length of his arousal.
She attempted to lift herself away but he held her still. She felt even more embarrassed this time, but not for herself alone. They were both in an awkward situation, to say the least. What could she do? He had a grip on her that was vice-like. An image of them rolling around in the bed came to her from a previous dream. The thought of doing what she'd done in the dream brought a flash of heat to her face and she was glad that he couldn't see it. But somewhere, deep inside, she found the courage to put action to her thoughts. She slowly drew her leg upwards as she slithered her body along his. A gasp escaped his lips as he released his hold slightly. His breath felt hot against her face as she felt him exhale raggedly.
His reaction to the touch of her body urged her onward, motivating her to take the next step. She tilted her head down until their lips barely touched. Before she could deepen the feather light kiss, his grip tightened once again and he gently pushed her back. That was her cue. She tugged herself backwards and he released his grasp.
Now, lying on her side of the bed, she turned to face the middle of the room, tucking her hand under her head with a frustrated sigh. She heard a faint rustle from his side then felt a hand on her bare shoulder. "Sara, I'm sorry. I just," he sighed heavily.
"It's all right, Grissom," she murmured, pausing briefly before saying, "at least I know you aren't disinterested like I thought you were."
With just as much frustration in his sigh, she heard him say, "That I can guarantee. I'm definitely not disinterested."
ACTIVITY OUTSIDE their window woke them a few hours later. They could hear the neighing and snorting of the horses and the stomping of their hooves as they were being hitched to a carriage, discerned only by the calls of the stable hands. Sara struggled to move, her muscles were sore from the walk they'd had the previous day and she couldn't quite seem to lift herself from the bed. She was plenty warm, but not hot and all she wanted was to snuggle further into that warmth. Her eyes opened, wide and round, recognizing that the warmth was due to Grissom's warm body curled against hers and the reason she couldn't move was because his arm covering her, weighted her down.
A sharp call from a stable hand startled Grissom slightly and he turned away from her. She took that moment of freedom to stand and find her dress on the floor. The morning sun filtered into the room, barely giving enough light for her to see by. Grissom, she could see was still asleep. The stable hand's call had not roused him enough to come fully awake. She went to the small window on his side of the bed and peered out to see the carriage. It wasn't a private one. She could see what appeared to be mail bags tossed up onto the top of the conveyance. This was the carriage they would need to get into London.
She hastily turned and knelt on the bed to tug on Grissom's shoulder as she said loudly, "Grissom, wake up. Grissom, come on, wake up. The carriage is going to be leaving."
At the mention of the carriage, he sat up and looked about the room in a daze. Sara stifled a laugh at his disheveled appearance, his hair turned every which way. The sound from her snort drew his attention. "Did you say something about a carriage?"
She nodded and answered, "Yes, it's being loaded now. We need to hurry if we're going to catch it." Leaning over, she picked up his trousers and his shirt, tossing them on the bed. Leaving a befuddled Grissom, she found her shoes and put them on. When she looked toward Grissom, he was already dressed and walking around the bed towards her.
They had no time for reflections on the events of the night, or morning as it were. They checked themselves in the mirror, smoothing down their hair and walked out of the room. Grissom hurried back in to retrieve the forgotten field kit and took one last look at the room. In case they were able to make it back to their own time, he didn't want to forget the memories they were making here.
Sara waited outside while Grissom paid the driver. Hearing the door open behind her, she turned, expecting to see him but instead found a lovely, older woman departing the Inn. Her dress must have cost a fortune, Sara thought. The woman smiled at her and she returned it in kind. Grissom appeared then with the driver and they boarded the carriage, the older woman joining them with her maid. The older woman, undoubtedly of higher rank, was allowed to enter the carriage before them and took the seat facing forward. They soon were allowed to follow and took the seat opposite her, facing the rear so that they were riding backwards. Not having been introduced to her, Sara remained quiet and Grissom followed her lead. More than likely the older woman would not speak to them as they were dressed as lowly peasants.
An hour into their ride and Sara began to wish she'd relieved herself before leaving the Inn. Her bladder felt as though it would burst at any moment. Peering over to Grissom, she saw his jaw tense and wondered if he weren't experiencing the same problem.
They were making a steep climb on a hill when the carriage unexpectedly lurched forward, throwing Grissom and Sara forward. Then there were a couple of loud yells and the sound of wrenching metal and wood. The front portion of the carriage dropped hard to the ground, dragged along the road by the horses until the tethers snapped. The carriage toppled over on its side and shrieks billowed out from the inside of the carriage as it began to roll down the side of the hill, followed by an eerie silence.
