Scarlett came to all fours, trying to determine just how injured her ankle was. It throbbed painfully, but as long as she could make it onto Star, she would be fine. Scarlett tried to stand, but when she tried to put weight on her ankle, it buckled, not taking any of it.
Grasping onto the stirrup hanging off of Star, Scarlett managed to pull herself to standing on one foot, but it was then she faced a dilemma. She couldn’t stand on her left foot in order to put her right in the stirrup, and if she stood on her right to put her left foot in the stirrup, she wouldn’t be able to give it any weight to mount. She jumped on one leg, grasping the pommel as she tried to haul herself up, but she only slid back down again, her chest hurting something fierce, her breath still coming in short gasps. Star was too tall, too wide in girth.
Scarlett whimpered at the hopelessness of her situation. No one would be out in a storm like this. No one would find her. She had to determine a way of out of this herself.
Just in case, she sent a cry out, hoping for the impossible — that someone would hear her, could help her out of this predicament she had stupidly found herself in.
“Help! Is anyone there? Please help me!” She called, and was so shocked she nearly screamed once more when the tree branches began to rustle beside her.
“Hello? Is someone there?”
Her relief turned to dismay, however, at the man that appeared before her as he emerged through the trees.
“Well, well, Lady Oxford,” came the smirking voice of Mr. Stone, calling to her in the wind. What was the steward even doing here? They had thought he had left days ago. “Got yourself in a predicament here, have you?”
“Yes,” she said weakly. “I don’t suppose you could help me onto my horse? I really just need a hand, and then I’m sure I can make it home.”
“I’d like to help you,” he said, clearly implying the opposite, “but unfortunately I find myself feeling rather uncharitable at the moment, being without employ any longer, nor references to find myself another placement. Now I wonder what — or who — caused that?”
“Mr. Stone,” Scarlett said desperately, “I realize you are angry, I do. But I could die out here if the storm continues.”
“And wouldn’t that be a pity, you being such a pretty thing?” he sneered, walking over to pet Star’s nose. “Too bad you couldn’t keep yourself out of my business and live like a usual countess. Your stallion here is a lovely piece of horseflesh, despite how easily he spooked.”
Scarlett’s eyes narrowed with the realization that he had purposefully spooked the horse. The bastard. “Leave him be,” she commanded.
“Ah, my lady, here’s the issue. I no longer have to listen to anything you say! I think I’ll be taking him with me. Farewell, my lady! How long do you suppose it will be until the earl finds himself a new bride?”
And with a cackle, he pulled on Star’s reins, urging the horse forward. But Star refused to budge. The horse was as stubborn and loyal as she was, and she managed a smile at Stone’s curse when Star refused to take even one step forward. Finally, Stone tossed the reins away in disgust. “Keep your horse,” he snarled. “He’s good for nothing anyway.” He turned, his boots crunching away, leaving her completely and utterly alone.
23
Hunter was so eager to return home that he became uncharacteristically frustrated when the carriage began to slow as they were about to turn into the drive. “Chaucy! What is the matter, man?” He knew a storm was brewing, but was that not a greater reason to return with all haste? Instead of speeding up, however, the groom slowed the carriage to a stop, and Hunter had the door half open before Chaucy was even down from his bench.
“What in the…”
He quickly saw what the issue was. There was a horse wandering the path ahead of them, a bundle of something tossed over its saddle. As Hunter approached, his heart began to beat wildly as he recognized the horse — it was Star, his wife’s prized stallion. What was he doing out here in this weather? Had he run off? But no — he was saddled. That meant—
“Scarlett? Scarlett!?”
He looked from side to side desperately for his wife as Chaucy walked over to collect Star. Suddenly the driver began shouting urgently.
“My lord! Come quickly!”
“Chaucy, I cannot see to a horse, not when my wife—”
“But my lord, she is here!”
Hunter ran over, seeing as he did, that the bundle of cloth nearly covered by snow, overtop the horse was a person — his wife. She was slumped so low over the horse’s neck he had hardly been able to see her form.
“Scarlett!” he shouted, running to her, fear coursing through him at her prostrate body, which looked so frozen, her lips blue when he lifted her off Star, pulling her into his arms as he kneeled in the snow.
“Scarlett, oh Scarlett, what happened? Open your eyes, love, open your eyes!"
At last, she did as he commanded, though her gaze was unfocused, and while her teeth began chattering violently, at least it was better than the stillness of the previous moment.
“What in the hell are you doing out here?” he demanded.
She attempted to answer, but he shook his head to stop her, despite the fact that he had, in fact, asked the question. “Never mind that for now. We must get you warm and into the house as quickly as possible. Chaucy, will you see to the horses?”
At the man’s nod, Hunter lifted his wife into the carriage, sitting down himself and holding her close in an attempt to warm her as best he could.
“Hunter,” she said weakly, and despite his best attempt to tell her not to speak, she insisted. “Hunter, I must tell you something.”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
She lifted her head, her hazel eyes boring into him, as though pleading for him to hear her, to understand. He more than understood. Those three words released emotions within him of an intensity that he had never known was possible, coursing through his body, causing him to tremble nearly as much as she. He felt wetness on his face, which at first he attributed to melting snow, but soon he realized they were tears. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried, but now they dripped down his cheeks faster than the snow that fell from the sky.
“I’m sorry … I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“Oh, Scarlett,” he said, pulling her close. “Don’t be daft. Just stay with me now, here, until we can get you home and warm. I’m the one who should be sorry for leaving you.”
Her eyes were closing then, so he did all he could do at the moment, holding her close, rocking, and praying that all would be all right.
Scarlett felt heat upon her yet frigidness within when she finally opened her eyes, turning her head back and forth to see the fire burning merrily in the grate to one side of her, her husband sleeping in the chair on the other side.
“Hunter?” she murmured, and he snapped to attention, the wild curls of his hair swirling about his face in even more abandon than usual, his eyes red and tired, his cheeks pale. “Are you all right? Shouldn’t you be in London?”
“Scarlett,” he said, coming down to kneel beside her. “You’re awake.”
“Of course I’m awake,” she bit her lip. “I’m speaking with you, aren’t I?”
He chuckled then, a laugh filled with relief as he placed his forehead against the hand he gripped in his own. “I was so worried about you.”
Suddenly her wild ride came flashing back in jolts of memories — her fall, Stone’s threats, her attempt to make it home. She must have made it, she thought, though she didn’t have any recollection of how she came to be in her bed. But how had Hunter come to be here?
“Why are you here?” she asked with bemusement.
“I’m here for you,” he said simply.
“How long has it been since I fell off the horse?” she asked, trying to sit up further, but found her chest still ached when she moved too quickly.
“Since yesterday,” he replied, stroking her fingers. “We
gave you something to help you sleep and ease the pain.”
“Who sent for you? I would have been fine, really. I—”
“No one sent for me,” he said, astonishment crossing his face. “You don’t remember, then, much of yesterday?”
“I remember falling from my horse, seeing Stone. I remember finally managing to lift myself up on Star. It took forever and it hurt, oh so much. But I knew if I didn’t, I could freeze to death out there, and the storm was getting worse. But then I was tired, and cold and … I don’t know, I must have made it home, or I wouldn’t be here.”
“What do you mean, you saw Stone?” his eyes narrowed, taking on a suspicious gleam.
“Oh Hunter, that man is evil,” she said recounting to him the story. By the time she had finished, Hunter was pacing the room, his features hardened into a countenance so grim she would have been scared had she not known him so well.
“I will kill him!” he ground out.
“You can’t kill him.”
“He will pay.” He stopped pacing then, turning to look at her. “Those words … that’s exactly what he said to me — that I would pay for getting rid of him. Apparently, he thought this was the way to make it happen.”
Scarlett shook her head in wonderment at how far some people were willing to go to get what they wanted, even if it meant hurting others.
“We mustn’t stoop to his level, Hunter,” she said. “Tell the appropriate authorities and hopefully they can find him and punish him accordingly. Promise me?”
After a few moments, he nodded, though reluctantly. “Now, Hunter, I must apologize. I did not mean to pull you from London. I know you had a very important meeting tomorrow — today? Anyway, I’m fine, you can return whenever you—”
“Scarlett.” He strode over and put a finger to her lips. “I didn’t return today. I never even made it to London. I had turned around toward Wintervale and found you on the drive. You are incredible, that is for certain, to have had the strength to make it back. And I am so very glad you did.”
“What do you mean you didn’t make it to London?”
“I realized I had forgotten something more important than anything else in my life — you.”
“Hunter,” she said, not able to look into the ocean of his eyes, for then she would be lost and would forget all that she had to say. “I am sorry I was such a coward. I will return to London with you. I will be by your side, I promise. I was a fool, letting my own fears, my memories, my parents’ life keep me from living my own. Forgive me, please?”
“No, love,” Hunter said softly, sitting next to her now, his weight on the mattress causing her to roll toward him slightly. “I thought that I could bring you with me, to turn my life into our life, but I failed to realize that we must live together in what is best for both of us, not just for me. I love what I do in the House of Lords, I do, but I must admit that I become rather preoccupied with it, so much so that I often forgot to simply live. I will go once Session begins, and I would love to have you with me, but until then, here we will remain, enjoying life with one another. How does that sound?”
“But the work you are doing — it’s important. Do you not need to be there?” she asked, her eyes round.
“I can speak with others through correspondence or with the odd visit to London. Thankfully Wintervale is not overly far,” he said with a shrug, “But you — you I do need, Scarlett, and I have been a fool not to realize that until now.”
She tried to throw herself in his arms but cringed when her chest tightened, and she sat back, gasping.
“Ah, yes,” he said, wrinkling his nose. “The physician managed a visit yesterday, and he suspects you have bruised your chest, in addition to a sprained ankle. Both will heal quickly, mercifully, but you’re going to have to be careful for a while. No riding. No activities that require any exertion.”
“None?” she asked with a squeak.
He shook his head regretfully. “None, I’m afraid — for a few days at least.”
“Ah, you had me worried there for a moment,” she said with a wink, and he laughed, though he sobered when he saw the serious expression on her face.
“Are you in pain?” he asked, but she shook her head.
“No, it’s simply that I have to tell you something, something that I should have quite some time ago. I love you, Hunter, with all of my heart,” she said, having to clear her throat when she heard her voice begin to waver. “Since the day we were married, you have been nothing but kind and patient with me. I mistrusted you for no fault of your own and allowed fear to get the better of me. Which is silly, really, as I am fearful of nearly nothing else but losing my heart. Until I sat there in a snowbank, freezing down to my very bones, and I realized that what was even worse than my love going unrequited was not even giving it a chance.”
He cupped her face in his hands, trailing his finger over the pattern of freckles on her nose and cheeks.
“I love you too, Scarlett,” he said in nearly a whisper. “I’ve told you that many times before, but never did I realize how much until I saw you so numb with cold, looking as though blood could hardly be pumping through your veins any longer. I cannot lose you — I will not. You are my wife, Scarlett, and from now on, I am going to spend every day reminding you of the fact.”
She began to smile, then, until tears began to flow down her face as her heart filled with all the love that was possible. Her smile stretched so wide that her cheeks ached, as he grinned back at her in return, reaching out to wipe away her tears. This was her husband, who loved her despite all that she had put him through.
“I was thinking,” he said, picking up her hand once more, playing with her fingers. “If I need to return to London now and again, it is not far — only a few hours. I can go for a day or so at a time. Then I will return here, to you. When Session begins once more, however, then—”
“Then I will return with you,” she said, holding up a hand when he made to argue. “I’ve decided this, and I will be fine with it. I have purpose — you’ve given me that with my charity work and foundation. And I am not returning alone. I am not returning to a man like my father, but to you, Hunter Tannon. All you have to do is be yourself, and I shall be fine.”
He leaned down then, and ever so gently brought his hands to either side of her head on the pillow, setting his lips against hers. He kissed her softly, a kiss full of promise of a life to come — together.
24
Twelfth Night ~ London
“This was a bad idea.”
“Oh, don’t be silly! I feel perfectly fine.”
“Yes, but you should still be resting, not in London about to attend a ball.”
“There is nowhere I would rather be, but on your arm.”
Scarlett smiled at him so broadly that Hunter sighed, knowing she had won this argument, as she did most. When Scarlett turned that grin on him, he was lost, lost in her eyes and her loveliness. Not that he wouldn’t tell her when she was wrong — for she certainly was, now and again. But today was a day for celebration.
“I shouldn’t have let you come,” he mumbled now as they arrived at Lord and Lady Totnes’ home, where the Twelfth Night celebrations were taking place. “My meeting with Lord Falconer could have been over and done, and I could have been back at Wintervale with you. Instead—”
“Instead, we are taking part in these beautiful Twelfth Night festivities,” she finished. “Which I wanted to attend — with you.”
He still wasn’t completely convinced he should have allowed her to come, but she had been so persuasive that despite the doctor’s orders, she had been out of bed and in his carriage seated next to him but a few days after her accident. She promised him she was feeling much better, and it was true that he could no longer see the pain in her eyes as he had even the day before.
Luckily, London was but a few hours from Wintervale, and so the carriage ride hadn’t been long, and at the very least they were in plush conditions, with a warm stone on S
carlett’s feet, a blanket over her legs, and Hunter’s heated body at her back.
“I hope you didn’t feel like you had to do this,” he said, tilting his head down toward her now, “To prove to me that you could live in London.”
“No,” she shook her head. “I have to do this to prove to myself that this is not the London I remember, not the London of my parents. A new place, where we will make new memories.”
“That we will,” he nodded, winking wickedly at her. “I can assure you.”
She swatted him good-naturedly but leaned back into him, and he tightened his arms around her as the carriage pulled to a stop.
“How do you find it so far, my Clara Courtlove?” She laughed and pushed away from him.
“Much better than anticipated,” she responded, wiggling her eyebrows at him, her gaze trailing up and down his own dandy-ish costume. “Especially when one is accompanied by a man such as Samuel Strutt.”
They were in their costumes for the evening. Having not been in attendance at the previous night’s festivities, their roles had been chosen for them, the cards sent to their London townhome. Hunter eyed Scarlett’s particularly low bodice. He didn’t much care for others to be looking upon it, but he reassured himself with the thought that only he would see what was underneath.
Hunter held out a hand to help Scarlett out of the carriage, and he didn’t miss the deep breath she took before grasping it and walking down the steps and up the cobbled path and into the house. Facing the ton could be harrowing, to be sure — especially considering the fact that their marriage had been under a great deal of scrutiny during their three-month separation — but if anyone held the courage necessary to confront the rest of them, it was Scarlett, he thought, his already puffed chest sticking out even further than the design of his garish costume.
They had hardly taken a step in the door when their hosts nearly accosted them, and Hunter wanted to step in front of Scarlett and protect her, but it appeared she didn’t need him as she gracefully greeted them. In fact, she soon charmed the crowd, though he didn’t leave her side — most especially as she could hardly walk on her own, her ankle still as sore as it was. Mercifully, the physician’s diagnosis of a sprain had proven correct, but it would be difficult for Scarlett to spend the night standing upon it. She was insistent, however, that she attend, and so he would do what he could to help her.
Christmastide With His Countess Page 17
