HELD CAPTIVE BY A ROGUE

Chapter Thirteen

It was an icy cold morning in early December when the first snow of winter made its' appearance known. The countryside was covered with a blanket of milky white, glistening snow with large flakes falling ever so gently from the dark gray clouds that covered the sky. The trees were now barren of all their brilliant leaves for all signs of autumn had disappeared and winter was definitely upon them.

Kathryn gazed out the window of the Steele coach as it made its way slowly along the only road that led to Dartmoor. They had left early this morning but their progress was hampered due to the heavy snowstorm that had been threatening to fall for the past few days and finally poured down on them shortly after their departure.

Christopher had cursed and raised his fist in the air at the untimeliness of the storm that was now becoming a raging blizzard. They would have to find shelter soon because it was almost impossible for the coachman to see the road and the temperature had dropped well below zero.

Kathryn turned away from the window and cuddled up closely to Christopher who welcomed her by placing his arm around her, drawing her to him in a warm embrace. He had not realized just how cold Kathryn had gotten until now. Her teeth were chattering while she tried desperately to get warm. He drew her mantle tightly around her neck when she looked up at him with pleading eyes.

"Damn it to hell!" He bellowed. "We've got to find an inn soon before you freeze to death!"

"I'm... alright... Christopher," Kathryn stammered through trembling purple lips. Her eyes were getting very tired and heavy and she would give anything just to lie down and go to sleep.

"No, you're not alright, damn it!" Shaking her to keep her awake Christopher yelled at her, "you can't fall asleep now, Kathryn. You'll never wake up!" Desperation crept into his voice as he tried to keep her awake. "Talk to me, Kathryn."

"I can't think of... anything... to say, Christopher."

"Then tell me a story or something."

Kathryn couldn't think about anything else except getting warm and didn't understand for the life of her why Christopher would want her to tell him a story. She looked up at him as if he were mad.

Reading her thoughts, Christopher explained that as long as she was talking, she wouldn't fall asleep.

Kathryn thought deeply for a few minutes trying to figure out what story she should tell him but the only thing that came to mind was her last journey she had taken on this road. That horrible night she had left London, alone on old Ginger's back.

Christopher held her tightly and listened attentively as she related the sordid details of her terrifying trip so many months ago. Had she not been so daring and brave to venture out of London alone, he wouldn't have ever met her. A pain wrenched his heart when he thought of how empty his life would be now if she wasn't a part of it.

The coach came to a sudden stop as Christopher quickly looked out the window and saw that they had finally found an inn to hold up in for the duration of the storm. At once he gathered Kathryn up into his arms and rushed her in through the open door that was being held by his coachman and placed her down in one of the high back leather chairs that were in front of the fireplace. Barking out orders to the innkeeper to bring them some hot rum toddies, Christopher sat down in the chair opposite Kathryn. He could see the warmth from the fire having its effect on her for her cheeks became a rosy red blush and her lips were no longer that ugly purplish color but now were a soft pinkish hue. When the innkeeper returned with their hot drinks, Christopher handed Kathryn hers and insisted on her drinking most of it all at once. Wanting it to warm the rest of her so no traces of the cold would remain.