Page 16 of Snowed In with the Runaway Bride

The snow came down faster now, the wind beginning to blow in great gusts. Penny must be half-frozen. His heart in his throat, he slowed the horse’s pace, scanning the road for any sign of her.

He ought to have asked what color her cloak was. He hadn’t thought of it in his eagerness to ride out and find her.

What if he never found her? What if she had stumbled into the ditch and fainted, covered by the falling flakes until her corpse was found in the spring melt?

A muffled sound came to his ears across the frozen air, carried by the sharp wind. A sound that formed into words as he urged the horse into a trot.

“Damn… and blast… and bloody… and… and… bollocks and…”

His heart soared—he didn’t know how many more times it could go up and down like this—and he spurred the horse forward until he was nearly on top of her.

Penny stumbled along the road, continuing to mutter curses as she hauled a large upholstered bag with her. She did not so much as glance his way, only shifted a little to the side to allow him to pass in the narrow lane.

He pulled the horse to a halt and slid to the ground. He wanted to simultaneously shake her for frightening him so and crush her to him in relief.

Instead, he said, “What the h—... what on earth do you think you’re doing, Penny?”

“What does it look like, you fool?” She continued walking, so he fell into step beside her, leading the horse by its reins. “I’m going to Carlisle.”

Her steps were slow but determined despite her limp. He decided to try reason first.

“It’s another twenty miles to Carlisle, at least. You’ll freeze to death long before you get there.”

“Don’t care.” She stumbled another few steps. “Won’t go back.”

“Penny.” He reached out with his free hand and took hold of her shoulder, pulling her to a halt and turning her to face him. Her face was pale as she looked up at him, snowflakes sticking to her lashes as she tried to blink them away.

He raised his voice to be heard above the rising wind. “You can’t get to Carlisle.”

“I can and I will.” Despite her brave words, her gaze was already a little unfocused, and he felt a chill that had nothing to do with the weather.

“You can’t get there because a storm is coming.”

Somehow, those were the words that finally broke through her daze. She began to shiver.

Hugo looked around with a frown. “There’s no possible way we can get back to Gaitskill Castle before dark. We’ll have to find a farm or an inn to wait out the storm.”

“The driver said there’s a coaching inn at the village ahead,” she conceded with visible reluctance, and he nodded in relief. At least she was willing to be somewhat sensible.

“Can you ride astride?”

“I don’t know.”

“Let’s try it.”

Despite the horse’s nervous shifting, they managed to get Penny mounted, bag clutched in front of her to keep her cloak from flying open in the rising wind. After adjusting the stirrups for her, Hugo grabbed the horse’s bridle, and the animal shied. Penny clung to the saddle, her mouth set in grim lines, but kept her seat on the horse.

He patted the horse’s neck until it calmed down, trembling. The cold was beginning to bite through his greatcoat, and he tugged the horse into motion, using its body to steady himself and shield against the wind.

A journey that should have taken an hour at most stretched long past that as Hugo eyed the sinking sun and urged the horse to a faster walk while snowdrifts whirled around his feet. His ankles. His calves.

Just as it seemed they would never find civilization again, the inn appeared out of the darkness, windows lit, and Hugo urged the horse into a half-trot as he stumbled alongside it as quickly as he could go.

He pounded on the door, which opened a mere crack, the innkeeper’s suspicious eye on him.

“There’s no more room.”

“My wife is with me. We can’t go any further.”