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

exclaimed. “In Russia, the sleighs carry horse blankets for just such an emergency. Unless the storm abates. . .” Wiping the frozen vapor from the windowpane, she tried to peer outside.
    Nicholas was already buttoning up his coat. “I saw a small stand of pine trees close by. They should provide an excellent shelter from the snow and wind.”
    “Lord Killingworth, wait! I should like to come help.”
    “And turn into a frozen Snow Queen?” He paused with his hand on the latch. “I much prefer you as a flesh-and-blood young lady. So please, do me the great favor of staying here for the moment.”
    Her pulse suddenly quickened with a rush of heat. Which made no sense, seeing as ice crystals clung to her coat and mittens. “Well, then,” she stammered. “Please do be careful.”
    A flurry of snow nearly obscured his grin. “Don’t worry. I have no desire to transform from a stick in the mud to an icicle in the snow.”
    The horses were soon sheltered, and as it turned out, the wind died down right after Nicholas returned. So it wasn’t necessary to go the extreme of seeking refuge in the drifts that had all but buried the coach wheels.
    Layered atop the fur carriage throw, the extra blankets ensured that her makeshift bed was quite comfortable. Anna wiggled her toes, finding she could almost stretch out full-length on the narrow bench. While on the facing seat, Lord Killingworth must be feeling like a matryoshka doll with his limbs crammed tightly into a confined space. He had refused all but one thin covering, and must have been half frozen as well.
    After a restless few minutes, guilt weighed too heavily on her for sleep to come. Sitting up, she was about to insist he take one of her blankets when a soft yet unmistakable buzzing stilled her lips.
    The man was snoring. It was an oddly intimate sound. And strangely comforting. Anna lay back and stared up into the darkness. Come to think of it, a great many things about Lord Killingworth were surprisingly reassuring. Far from being an arrogant prig, he had shown himself to be thoughtful, well read and funny. And at the first sign of trouble, he had assumed command with a cool calmness that had saved them from further injury.
    She blinked, aware that she had slowly come to see him—and herself—in a whole new light, though its flicker still left much in shadow. It had been some years since she had taken any real joy in Christmas, but now, this chance encounter with a stranger had made her feel a little less alone in the world. The gift—however small, however fleeting—kindled a tiny flame of hope that she might once again share a feeling of closeness, of kinship with another person.
    Listening to the slow, steady rhythm of his slumber, she was soon lulled into a peaceful sleep.
    It was the resinous curl of wood smoke that tickled her senses back to consciousness. Throwing off her covers, Anna quickly tugged on her coat and boots. Her hairpins, however, proved a more daunting challenge. She didn’t dare glance at herself in the windowpane, sure she would look a fright.
    “Good morning,” said Nicholas as she climbed down from the coach. He had cleared a small patch of ground to the bare earth and was fanning a spark from his flint and steel to life. “Do you always sleep so soundly?”
    “Only when I stay awake half the night listening to a strange gentleman’s snores.”
    “I should have warned you.” He didn’t look around. “Several of my friends have likened it to a dull saw cutting through the keel of a forty-gun frigate.”
    It was another point in his favor that he could make fun of himself. And the score inched a notch higher as he turned in profile, the snow reflecting a dappling of silvery light across his chiseled features.
    “It wasn’t quite that bad.” Anna watched him strip off his gloves and carefully arrange the thin curls of wood into a small pyramid. A great many gentlemen of her acquaintance were quick to boast of their skills at