Christmas By Candlelight: Two Regency Holiday Novellas by Andrea Pickens Read Free Book Online Page A

returns.”
    “Perhaps you could come on with us to London after all,” she murmured into the folds of his coat.
    Dangerous. That road could only lead to trouble.
    “It’s probably best that we go our separate ways,” he replied softly.

Chapter 4
    I n her dream , she was being chased by a big black bear whose gaping jaws stretched into an uncanny resemblance of her uncle’s smile. Snap. Snap. The teeth were coming ever closer, threatening to swallow her into a maw of darkness.
    Shrinking back with a small cry, Anna found herself sheltered inside something reassuringly warm and solid. Her lashes fluttered and she was vaguely aware of a dark shape swooping in to ward off the danger.
    “No need to be alarmed.” Nicholas brushed another tangled curl from her cheek. “The howl is just the sound of the wind picking up.”
    Now fully awake, Anna sat up. “How long have we been sitting here? It looks dark as midnight outside.”
    “Not more than an hour, but I am afraid the storm has come back with a vengeance.” The wood paneling shivered as another gust slammed into the coach. “I don’t think we can expect a rescue party anytime soon. We are going to have to fend for ourselves.”
    Even with her nose pressed up against the glass, she could make out naught but an impenetrable white shroud surrounding them. “Lud, the temperature is dropping as well. If it gets much colder, we will have to consider abandoning the vehicle and digging a snow cave.”
    “A snow cave?”
    “In Russia, it is a common practice when travelers are stranded in a storm. The snow provides much more insulation than a drafty vehicle. It is actually quite cozy, and can make the difference between life and death.”
    “How very interesting.” She had half expected Nicholas to dismiss the idea as far too outlandish, but he looked rather intrigued. “Do you speak from experience?”
    No doubt it would only add to her image of being a very foreign, outlandish sort of person. But she had grown accustomed at school to being considered different from the other girls.
    “Yes.” Her chin rose a touch, as if to deflect any derision. “My grandmother and I were caught in a wild snowstorm while traveling from Moscow to her country estate in Obuchovo. I was only fourteen and a bit frightened, but she had braved many a winter and made it seem like a grand adventure.” Her tone turned slightly wistful. “She kept me entertained through the night by recounting traditional Russian folk tales, with their fearless bogatyrs , enchanted ice maidens and magical firebirds. I was disappointed come morning, when a search party found us and dug out our sleigh.”
    “I can well imagine,” said Nicholas, his voice seeming to echo the same note of wistfulness as her own. “ The Feather of Finist the Falcon was a particular favorite of mine when I was a schoolboy.”
    “You are familiar with Russian wonder tales?” she asked in surprise.
    “I usually had my nose buried in a book while the other lads were out playing cricket.” He made a wry face. “You are not the first one who has thought me a stick in the mud.”
    Wishing that her tongue had not been so well aimed as her snowball, Anna said as much.
    “No need for remorse,” came the cheerful reply. “Such boring habits came in quite handy when I met up with a partisan band in Portugal.”
    “Y-You were in Portugal,” her eyes widened. “With the partisans?”
    “Just for a short time. I was delegated to make a rather minor delivery to one of the less important chieftains. Luckily for me, I had read an arcane Moorish text on mountain warfare, for when we were set upon by a regiment of French dragoons. . .” Nicholas went on to tell a pithy anecdote that Anna suspected did not give near enough credit to his actions in fighting off the enemy.
    She was thinking on how to respond when a jangling of the harness rang out above the din of the storm. “Lud, I have forgotten the poor horses!” she