Wicked Heart (Brazen Bluestockings #1)

Chapter 23: Frozen

Sam wasn't sure how long he'd been riding when he saw a shadow through the whirling snow. Steering his horse in that direction, he held on to the hope that it was Ivy. The wind pulled at his hair and nipped at his cheeks. His hat had flown off ages ago, no match for the sudden gales whipping across the snow.

"Ivy?" he called out, but he wasn't sure if she could hear him over the loud whining of the storm. A few moments later, he reached her. She was on her feet, leading the horse next to her, her face and nose reddened from the cold. Whatever hat she'd worn had disappeared in the storm just like his, and her blonde hair whipped around her in the wind, large chunks having come undone.

She swayed on her feet as she looked up at him. "S... Sam?"

He wanted to get on the ground and embrace her, but with the snow and slippery grounds, he didn't trust his ability to get back on the horse, so instead he held his arm out. "Come. Get on the horse with me."

Once she was in his lap, her legs to one side, he was shocked to feel how cold she was. Needing to warm her, he unbuttoned his greatcoat and wrapped it around both of them as well as he could, then grabbed the reins of both her horse and his own before starting the trudge in the direction he thought—hoped—the gamekeeper's cabin lay.

"Why were you not on your horse?" he asked, his mouth by her ear. It was like an icicle against his lips. He leaned his cheek against the side of her head, hoping to heat her up.

"Too cold," she mumbled. "Had to ride straddling it and my skirts didn't cover my legs fully."

That made sense. Her stockings would not have been enough against this weather. She was obviously cold and exhausted, so he didn't ask her anything more. Instead, he focused on finding his way while she leaned her head against him. The snow and ice gathered on her melted against his chest underneath his greatcoat, dampening his shirt. But he didn't care. All that mattered was to get her to safety.

Relief washed over him when they finally reached a cottage on the outskirts of the woods. He hadn't been certain he got the direction right, but he had. There was no way they would make it back to the main house, and he would not try with Ivy in this condition.

There was a small stable with fresh hay and blankets, so he quickly rubbed the horses down, put blankets over them and made sure they had drinking water, before grabbing the knapsack with food and leading Ivy inside the cottage. It was small but clean, with a main living area downstairs and a kitchen off to the side. Stairs lead up to where he expected there to be two bedchambers, judging from the size.

With limited time and resources, they would be best off in one room where they could get comfortable and have a fire to heat the room. After a moment's hesitation, Sam brought them upstairs to the main bedchamber. If they had to spend the night, it made sense to do so in the room with a bed. The bedchamber was nothing like the opulent rooms at Winterbourne Hall, the furniture plain but in good condition. A bed stood against the wall opposite the fireplace, and a chaise longue sat below a window. The chaise looked oddly out of place, being of much better quality than everything else, its upholstering a rich green pattern. It must have been a hand-me-down from the main estate.

Sam quickly found some firewood and kindling, and it wasn't long before he got a fire going. Ivy still stood in the middle of the room as if in a daze. Taking her hands in his, he pulled their gloves off. His were already warm again after working on the horses and fire, but hers were cold as ice. Holding them between the palms of his hands, he willed them to heat. She was far too cold.

Her body shuddered. Worried, he put his hands on her shoulders and immediately felt how damp her coat was. His shirt was no better. The snow lingering from outside was melting and the skirts of her dress were soaking from walking through the snow for god knew how long.