“Is there a back way I can escape through?” she asked.
“In here.” He led the way toward the bathroom. It wasn’t spacious by any stretch of the imagination, but it wasn’t nearly as small as one might expect. Inside, the windowsill sat at the height of her hip, but outside the sharply sloping ground ran directly beneath it. “Thank God we put big windows in here.” Angus fiddled with the lock mechanism, slowly slid up the sash window and popped out the screen, leaning through the opening to set it on the ground. “I’m sorry,” he said, stepping back. “This is the last way I want to end our time together.”
Win nodded again. She didn’t trust herself to speak. She was carrying Angus’s child, and she was escaping out a bathroom window so his backup bride didn’t see her. Something was very wrong with this picture. Angus braced her as she lifted one leg, then the other over the sill and scrambled outside.
“Give me a minute to let Leslie in,” he said, looking up at her. She thought he’d say more, but he simply shook his head as she handed him the screen, popped it back into place and shut the window again.
Win could hear Leslie pounding on the door on the far side of the house. She didn’t think anyone else could see her from here, thank goodness, or her humiliation would be complete.
Sometimes life was really… stupid, she thought, biting back the urge to cry that was building in her throat.
She had to be fearless, she decided. She had to throw away any worries she might harbor about exposing herself to ridicule during this process. It was embarrassing to be out here while Angus was in there with Leslie, but at the end of the day the only thing that mattered was that she’d end up with the man she loved, raising the child she loved, doing the work she loved. Anyone else’s opinions about how she got there were meaningless.
The knocking had stopped. Leslie must be inside the tiny house now. Win ran lightly up the steep slope and crossed the hillside above the house’s roof.
She’d pulled it off.
“Win?”
Byron, standing just outside the tiny house’s door, stared at up at her. She felt a flush build from her throat into her cheeks.
“You were—with him?”
“Mind your own business,” Win snapped and kept going.
Chapter Ten
‡
“Where is she?” Leslie demanded, her hands on her hips. The long skirts of her light-blue Regency gown swirled around her legs, echoing her indignation.
“Who?” Angus asked as innocently as he could. His body was still tingling from the intimate interlude he’d been sharing with Win. Leslie’s presence was like a splash of cold water to the face.
“My rival. Win. Where is she? I know she’s in here.”
“I don’t know what makes you think that—”
“Because I’m not stupid, and because there were two sets of footprints coming from the greenhouse to here.”
“There must be dozens of footprints. I walk back and forth all the time.” As Angus pulled himself together, he realized he might be in more trouble than he’d thought.
“I’m a tracker,” Leslie snapped. “I get called in to help find lost pets and farm animals, did you know that?”
“No.” Worry settled in Angus’s gut. If she walked around the tiny house, would she be able to make out one set of tracks running away from the bathroom window? Anyone could figure out what that meant.
“You think I’m young and stupid, but I’m not. I’m practical. I’m thorough, too.” She began to pace the small house, as if she was sure Win might be hiding in a corner. She made a circuit of the living room area, ducking down to look under the small built-in table and in every nook and cranny of the unfurnished space.
“You can see for yourself she’s not here,” Angus said, following her toward the bathroom. Worry mounted in his chest as she looked in the space between the vanity and the composting toilet and poked her head into the shower stall. She was getting closer to the window. “You know damn well a wealthy woman like Win wouldn’t hide in a bathroom.” He knew Win’s status bothered Leslie. “She’s got a lot more class than that.”
“Hmph.” Leslie turned, twitched her skirts behind her and headed back into the main area. She grabbed the railing of the ladder to the loft with one hand, lifted her skirts with the other and began to climb. “Rival, I know you’re in here!”
“She’s not here,” Angus said again.
“Someone’s been here. This place is a mess.”
Was she tidying it? The woman couldn’t stop for a minute, could she?
“I’ve been here,” Angus told her. “When I need some time alone, this is where I come.”
Leslie poked her head over the edge of the loft. “Being alone isn’t healthy.” She disappeared again. He heard the snap of the sheets as she made the bed and stifled a sigh.
“I’m going back to work in the greenhouse.” He turned toward the door just as Byron opened it, bringing a camera inside. “Oh, for God’s sake.”
“Language!” Leslie snapped. She peeped over the edge of the loft again. “Byron.”
“Leslie.” Byron wouldn’t look at Angus, and the tight look on his face left Angus uneasy. Had he run into Win outside?
Leslie went back to her task. Angus edged past Byron awkwardly in the cramped space and had just grasped the doorknob when she cried out.
“Leslie?” Byron all but dropped his camera and raced to the ladder.
“Yoga pants!” Leslie appeared at the top of the ladder again. “Win’s yoga pants!”
“You don’t know they’re hers,” Angus said.
“They have a pregnancy waistline.” Leslie shook the pants at him, showing him the stretchy panel, and swung around to climb back down. Byron scrambled out of her way. “You’ve been very bad, Angus. And my rival has been
