The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2

by MacMurrough, Sorcha

  Mr. Greengage sipped some more water weakly. While Blake ministered to him, she decided to take the opportunity to attend to the call of nature.

  She returned a short time later with more firewood. Blake stepped out for a moment, presumably upon the same errand. He too returned with more wood, and they stacked it up on the rack as well.

  "I'm going back to the cluster of trees to get a bit more. If we have to be here all night, I don't want to have to run out to do it at midnight."

  "Be careful."

  He smiled and nodded. "Keep it warm in here for me."

  She put one of the bottles back on to heat and nestled once more into the spot which she had vacated.

  Blake seemed to be gone for ages, but at last she saw him with a huge pile of firewood, which he left outside as he jumped back in the coach to warm up.

  "It would f-f-freeze the cannonballs off a b-b-brass m-m-monkey out there," Blake complained, his teeth chattering.

  She wrapped him up and warmed him as she had before. Gradually his shivering gave way to a pleasant sense of coziness.

  "We're going to need to take turns watching over each other. We can't all sleep. I've heard far too many stories of people freezing to death in stranded coaches for me to be complacent."

  She lifted the scalding hot water bottle and put it into his lap. "Your turn to sleep, then. You must be done in."

  "Let me have half an hour." He rested his head on the top of hers. In an instant he was breathing deeply and evenly, his slumber dreamless and exhausted.

  She gave him an hour in the end, and roused him when she moved to feed fuel into all of the footwarmers.

  He checked on Mr. Greengage, who was sleeping peacefully, and James, who complained of pain. Blake gave him a tincture of laudanum, and insisted upon more water for everyone.

  "And how are you, my dear?"

  "Not too dreadful."

  "You're a model patient. Never a word of complaint, and you've helped everyone a great deal. Not many women of your age would be able to remained so calm in the face of such adversity, not to mention pain. Well done, Belle."

  He ran one hand down her ribs, and she winced. "If you like, we can have you lie down in the other seat with one of the foot warmers next to you."

  "If anyone should do that it's Mr. Greengage, not me."

  "Well, it's more appropriate with you being the only woman in the group, but I won't tell if you won't."

  "I am no prude, sir. We're sharing our warmth so as not to perish. There's nothing shameful in that."

  "I beg your pardon. I was merely concerned for your reputation. Not to mention the fact that your family will be most concerned for your well-being."

  "I assure you, none of my family are in any position to object to that has happened here tonight," she said truthfully.

  Her double meaning was not lost upon Blake. "I see. I am sorry."

  He sat for a time considering. "Perhaps this has all been a mistake, us waiting for help. We do have one remaining horse, if he hasn't yet perished, poor thing. We ought to at the very least try to get closer to civilization.

  "We know there's nothing here, and no other vehicles have come past in either direction. The roads could be blocked. Or they could all have simply stayed where they were rather than press on as the mail coach was obliged to do.

  "We have fuel and supplies for now, some food, but a storm like this can render the roads impassable for days. I can't risk that. Not with three injured people."

  "But we also can't risk being worse off than before, having an accident in this carriage, for example," she pointed out. "Moreover, who's going to risk sitting on the box? It's freezing. There are drifts everywhere. And you and I are the only people reasonably able-bodied."

  "I can help drive, if you can get me onto the box," James offered, though he was still white about the mouth from cold and pain.

  Blake was torn. It was a difficult situation, no matter how he looked at it. He glanced from one face to the next. The spark of life in Belle's eyes decided for him.

  "All right, I'm going to take the chance. Belle, please gather as much wood and anything else you can find from the coach. I'll harness the horse."

  Arabella nodded. She clambered out and began to heave with the axe with all her might. Most of the top of the coach was now gone, so she stood on the side and hacked some long strips, then made several trips back to the carriage to load up her supplies.

  She searched the boot and found some more shovels, rope, more lamp oil, and some waterproof Macintosh material.

  She considered for a moment, and found the middle of it. She made one small cut in the center with the point of her axe.

  She went back to the carriage, where the horse now stood patiently in the tracers, the snow coming down all around him. The doctor had cleaned off the burlap sacking the animal had worn as a blanket and replaced it with a warm dry one. It didn't look too badly off, all things considered, but it would have a hard time in this weather, with four people to pull instead of only two.

  But she knew they had few other options, and so she patted his nose and offered him some of the fodder the mail coach had carried into the boot, and some warm water in his nose bag, which it drank thirstily.

  Blake had returned to the interior of the carriage to get one final burst of warmth. When she was finished tending to the horse's needs, she stepped up into it too and took stock.

  "Help me load more fuel into one of these," she said to James.

  They crammed it full, and she stuffed one of the others and stood all of the hot water bottles on it. "I'll give you a new one every so often. And here, try this. It will keep you dry, and the wind off you."

  She slipped the Macintosh material over Blake's head, and took off her scarf and woolen gloves. She wrapped his head, mouth and nose in the scarf, and then pulled the Macintosh up over it, and handed him the gloves.

  He held up his huge hands. "I shall stretch them unmercifully."

  "Better that than frost bite or chillblains. Try to drive with one hand if you can. Keep the other one warm in your lap."

  He got the gloves on, and looking like some bizarre kind of mole, stepped out into the storm, and climbed onto the box.

  She handed him up the foot warmer, and a hot water bottle wrapped in one of the traveling rugs. She placed another rug over his knees.

  "If it gets to be too much for you, just stop and come back down. At least you'll have tried."

  "I will. I promise. Don't look so worried. Get back inside now, Belle."

  With a small wave she left him.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  As soon as Blake heard the door shut he cracked the whip and the horse creaked forward. He could feel the hooves slipping, though he had wrapped them in burlap while Belle had been tending to the firewood. Still, the animal got enough purchase on the slick surface to move forward. The only problem would be hills. Anything too steep in either direction could easily overset them.

  They crawled along, Blake getting colder by the minute. His face and most especially his eyelids stung. Though it was not snowing so heavily now, the flakes coming down were a constant irritation and rendered the carriage lamps almost useless.

  Dark shapes loomed up at him so suddenly he had all to do not to jerk the reins and scare the animal, or bring the horse to a complete halt from which they might never be able to start again.

  Even traveling so slowly, the carriage bounced, slipped and slid. He hated to think of the damage the three occupants below might be suffering, especially the unconscious Mr. Greengage.

  Even more haunting was the pallor and wide-eyed stare of Belle. The poor girl had held up well, but she had to be in a lot of pain. Every chop of the axe must have been torture to her, yet she had brought in fuel in a manner worthy of the best woodsman.

  What a rare woman. Tender, compassionate, brave, sensible, not concerned with appearances, able to tolerate hardship. Warm, lovely, sensual…

  Stop that, he scolded himse
lf. The girl evidently came from a fairly decent family, though probably well below his. Not that his was so lofty, he thought wryly. But she was so beautiful, she probably had a string of suitors a mile long. Suitors her own age, happy-go-lucky, uncomplicated men who were not haunted by their past, the war, the burdens he still had to bear even after so many years…

  Blake wondered when he was ever going to get back to London now. If he had not promised himself at Bath, he might have simply turned around and headed for home.

  But he needed to know what had happened to John, his driver. He feared the worst at this stage. He could easily have succumbed to the elements. In any case, when he had set off the storm had not seemed so bad. But who knew what had awaited the young man further up the road? Or what was happening now?

  Fortunately, the snow started to abate by ten, and they made steadier progress through the deep drifts. Belle handed him freshly heated bottles through the window about every twenty minutes, and water mixed with a tiny bit of brandy.

  Finally even Blake knew his own limitations when he felt himself starting to nod off from the cold. The carriage gave a sudden lurch, and he realized they were perilously close to the edge of a stream. He forced himself not to jerk the reins. Making a few subtle and contained movements, he steered to the left, to good firm solid ground, and halted.

  His legs were so stiff he could barely move them. Belle was immediately out of the carriage to take the water bottle and rugs and help him down.

  He fell into her arms heavily. Though she gave a gasp of pain, her knees straightened and she was able to help him hobble back into the carriage. As he got in, James got out the other side.

  "My turn," he said.

  "But-"

  "I'll be right back."

  She lifted the Macintosh from his head and then got James kitted out and up onto the box. The broken leg stuck straight out in front of him as he sat down, but he braced himself against the corner of the box with a full new footwarmer, and soon they were moving once more.

  Belle enfolded Blake in the traveling rugs and had him sit almost on top of two of the footwarmers while she replenished the other and tried to dry out the rugs.

  He shivered uncontrollably, and she put his frozen face in her warm palms. Then she moved closer, and blew gently.

  He grabbed a hot water bottle from off the fire, put it in his lap, and pulled her onto it as well. She blinked in surprise, but understood. Soon she began to blow on his cheeks.

  It was more than even a restrained man like Blake could bear. He tilted his head, and kissed her, felt himself thawing in her arms in every sense of the word.

  Her kiss was honey-sweet, and made him forget for a moment even his own name. He could taste dew, smell freshly mown grass, feel the summer sunshine upon his face, the warmth penetrating his bones, his soul…

  Desire coursed through him, hot, ragged and oh so urgent. With his hands on her face, stroking her delicate petal-soft skin and brow with his thumbs, he deepened the kiss still further, as if they could absorb each other fully and be made one.

  His manhood throbbed painfully against the hot water bottle which separated their lower bodies by only a few inches. All he had to do was…

  The carriage slid sideways, sending Belle sprawling off his lap. He tried to catch her, but his hands upon her ribs wrung a sharp cry from her.

  He grabbed her arm as she nearly crashed onto Mr. Greengage's prone body. Then the carriage righted itself and she was on her feet safely.

  "I'm sorry, so sorry," Blake began to say abjectly.

  "They're not that sore," she said, holding herself around the middle gently.

  "I meant about…"

  "None of this is your fault. Don't keep apologizing. I made my choices. I chose to press on to London, I chose to touch you. Chose to well, kiss you. Let you kiss me. It was comforting. Caring. Crackling with, with fire."

  Belle was looking at him in wonder. She was so breathtakingly lovely Blake had all to do not to pull her into his lap again. Instead he yanked up the shade and dropped down the sash.

  "All right up there?" he called.

  "Slippery, but all right. No snow now, but it's freezing."

  "You feel yourself getting sleepy, you stop, no matter what, do you hear me? Don't try to be a hero."

  "Yes, sir, I hear you."

  Blake slammed the window shut and pulled the covers off the footwarmers. He put his hands and face as close to them as he dared. "Gosh, it's so bitter."

  "But every mile is that much closer to safety. You're very brave."

  "Or very foolish," he said curtly.

  "No, brave. We'd be long dead if you hadn't stopped. And hadn't known what to do, thought about the long-term practicalities of survival."

  "I learned in Portugal and Spain. Cold and disease killed just as many men as the French did. More perhaps. And look at Napoleon's Russian campaign. You can defy man, but not the elements. Nearly a quarter of a million men learned that to their cost."

  "You were in the Army then, as a doctor?" she asked with interest.

  "Yes," he said. "But it is not really a fit subject for a lady's hearing, and I-"

  A groan from Mr. Greengage made them both start and look at him.

  "Where am I?"

  "We're trying to get to the nearest village. We had an accident, do you remember?" Belle said quickly.

  "God, it's so cold. The pain."

  Blake fetched his medical bag, though his hands were still trembling so badly he dropped it on the seat. "A spoonful of the liquid in that green bottle," he indicated, pressing his hands together to quell their shaking.

  She dosed the patient and tried to rearrange the clothes and travelling rugs and bottles to make him more comfortable. She held up the water bottle, and at Blake's nod, gave him something to drink.

  "Can we risk food?"

  "Not at this stage. Soon, though. He kept down the other water we gave him."

  "I'm not hungry in any case," he said quietly.

  "What of you?" Belle asked the tall, handsome doctor.

  "Starving, I have to admit."

  "Well, there are the other sandwiches."

  "We ought to save them just in case."

  "Eating one won't do any harm."

  He nodded, and she handed it to him. He chewed wearily but with relish. She sat back down between the men to share the warmth.

  "Better?" she asked after a time.

  "Much." He leaned his head back. "Can you let me have about twenty minutes' sleep? I feel like my eyes are dancing in my head. But make sure I don't sleep too long. I need to spell James. He can't stay up there much longer with that leg."

  "I'll watch over you, I promise."

  He rested his head on the crown of hers, and closed his gritty eyes. It seemed as though he had only just shut them when she was shaking him awake. Her tone became increasingly urgent.

  "Doctor! Dr. Sanderson! You must get up. You said not to let you sleep, and James is just about done in. He says the road is getting worse. The snow is much deeper, almost up to the horse's chest."

  "How far do you think we've gone?" he asked as he shook his head to try to clear it of the erotic visions which had been swirling in his head, all featuring a raven-haired woman with deep blue eyes.

  "I caught the glimpse of a milestone when I opened the window to call up to him. I think we have another two miles to go if we're lucky."

  He fumbled through his clothing and eventually pulled out his fob watch. "Nearly midnight. Drat, you let me sleep too long."

  "I could barely wake you as it was," she said defensively.

  He patted her shoulder. "Come on, help me get James down off the box before he perishes."

  They struggled with the near-frozen young man, and got him back down in one piece, just.

  Once back in the safety of the coach, all four of them considered their options while James tried to thaw out.

  Blake had to tamp down the huge surge of jealousy he felt over Belle hel
ping the other man, but he noticed she did not touch his face in the way she had his.

  Was it possible she liked him, rather than James? Or was it that she had become more wary after his uncontrollable display of ardor?

  Whatever the reason, he could find no fault with her nursing abilities. Once again he thanked God that he had had someone so capable helping him. That she had been spared serious injury.