A Rose in Winter (13 page)

"Put me down, you pompous oaf! Put me down!" Erienne kicked her legs and pushed at the broad chest in a frenzied effort to gain her release.

"Be still, little minx, and listen!" he demanded, his voice sounding harsh and angry in her ear. "Do you not understand what could happen to you on this road? The bands of thieves and miscreants who roam this countryside would see you as a most tempting morsel. You'd be sport for them for a night or two... if you lasted that long. Did you give a thought to that?"

Coldly rejecting the logic of his warning, Erienne jerked her face aside. "I insist you put me down, sir."

"Only when you're willing to listen to reason."

Mutinously she glared up at him. "How did you know where I was?"

The green eyes sparkled with unbridled humor. "Your father and that twisted excuse for a man with him came back to the inn looking for you. The mayor raised quite a furor when he couldn't find you." Christopher laughed shortly. "After seeing Smedley, I decided you would run off before facing him again, and I was right. You left a clear set of tracks in your haste to flee."

"You're conceited, Mr. Seton, if you think I welcome your protection, or your company."

"You needn't be so formal, Erienne," he teased with a devilishly wicked grin. "You may call me Christopher, or my dear, or my love, or any endearment of your choice."

Erienne's eyes struck sparks of fiery indignation. "My desire," she said flatly, "is to be put to the ground immediately."

"As you wish, milady." Christopher withdrew his arm from beneath her knees, letting her limbs slide against him until her toes barely touched the moss-covered slope. The full shock of his firm, hard body went through Erienne with the effect of a searing bolt of lightning. Almost as quickly, a vision was conjured up, one bathed by the pinkish rays of the dawning sun with a lone figure of a naked man silhouetted against its light.

"Unhand me!" she commanded, trying to hide her burning cheeks with rage. No proper lady would allow such a vision to take root and flourish in her mind. "I am quite capable of standing on my own feet."

Placing his hands about her slender waist, Christopher lifted her onto a boulder that formed a small, flat plateau beside the road. "Stay here," he enjoined, "until I return with my horse."

"I'm not a child you can order about," she protested. "I'm a grown woman!"

He cocked a handsome brow as he gave her a lengthy inspection. Even through the cloak, his eyes seemed to burn her. "Now, that's the first real truth I've heard you say."

Erienne blushed profusely and pulled the garment tighter about her. "Has anyone ever told you how detestable you are?"

His white teeth gleamed behind a lopsided grin. "Thus far, my dear, every member of your family."

"Then why don't you leave us alone?" she snapped.

Laughing, he stepped away to fetch his mount and commented over his shoulder as he gathered the reins. "The way things are going, Erienne, I'm beginning to think your father will never get you married off." He led the stallion back to her. "I just would like some assurance that I'm not going to lose out completely on my investment."

"Do you honestly think you have some claim to me?" she jeered. "Some right to annoy and bore me with your presence?"

His shoulders moved in a careless shrug. "As much as your other suitors do. Indeed, with the two thousand pounds your father owes me, perhaps more. I wonder which of your gallant beaux will want to part with such a sum." His laughter mocked her. "You might as well be put on the block and let them bid for you. 'Twould save your father considerable time and effort in his attempt to find you a generous husband."

Erienne opened her mouth to voice her objection to such a suggestion, but she was abruptly silenced when he swept her up and placed her onto the back of his horse. Swinging up behind her, he gave her no choice but to accept his company.

"This is outrageous, Mr. Seton!" she stormed. "Put me down!"

"If you're not aware of it, my sweet, we're about to get soaked." Even as he spoke, raindrops began to pelt them. "Since I can't leave you here alone, you'll have to come with me."

"I'm not going anywhere with you!" she cried.

"Well, I'm not going to sit here in the rain and argue with you." He kicked the stallion, squelching her protest as the animal leapt forward into a full gallop. She was flung back hard against the stalwart chest, and for safety's sake, she had to submit to the arm he laid about her. Though she would have openly denied it, she was grateful for its security and for the nestling seat his thighs provided her.

Whipped by the wind, the rain rapidly soaked through her cloak and ran in cold runnels down the front of her torn bodice. Erienne squinted upward toward the frenzied sky, but the large, splashing droplets forced her to turn her face away and seek shelter against his chest. Looking down at her, Christopher pulled his cloak about her to provide more protection, but in the next moments it seemed that a whole torrent of water was unleashed upon them. Icy sheets slashed down upon them, wetting their garments until they became dead weights that hindered movement. The wind and frigid rain were relentless, assaulting them from every angle.

Through the heavy downpour the vague shape of a structure became visible in the distance. Urging the steed off the road, Christopher rode through the trees toward it. The barren limbs provided no protection from the storm but snatched at them, snaring their clothing as if seeking to prevent their passage.

As they neared, the building became recognizable as an old, abandoned stable. A tumbledown cottage stood beside it, but without a roof it left serious doubt that any but the smallest creatures would find shelter within its crumbling walls. The doors of the stable gaped wide, though one hung askew on a lone stiff, rusty hinge. Leafless vines entangled the edifice, and a decaying log lay on the ground across the entrance. Despite its dilapidated state, the barn offered considerably more protection than the cottage.

Christopher dismounted in front of the doors and reached up to lift Erienne from her place. The wind billowed beneath her wet cloak, sending a piercing chill through her as its frigid breath touched her soaked gown. She shivered uncontrollably as Christopher carried her across the log and into the dark interior. He set her to her feet, then peered about into the shadows.

"Not as cozy as the Lion's Paw, but at least it will give us some shelter from the storm," he stated. Discarding his sodden cloak, he glanced down at her and arched a dubious brow. "You look like a drowned rabbit."

Erienne's trembling chin raised to a lofty level as she eyed him coolly. A violent shuddering made it difficult to retort with effective rancor, but she tried. "I s-suppose you t-think Claudia would look b-better at a t-time like this."

Christopher laughed at a mental vision of Claudia trying to look elegant in a wide hat that flopped dripping wet about her ears. "You needn't be jealous of her," he responded glibly. " 'Twas you I followed to Wirkinton."

"Aha! S-so you d-do admit it."

"Of course."

Erienne stared at him blankly, finding her argument suddenly deflated by his acknowledgment.

Christopher chuckled and went back to lead the stallion through the doorway. Erienne huddled in her dripping clothes as he untied a covered roll behind the saddle. Producing his redingote, he tossed it to her and turned back to strip the saddle from the back of the steed, advising over his shoulder, "You'd better put that on before you take a chill."

She gripped her own water-weighted cloak about her and turned her face away, not wishing to shred her pride by removing the outer garment and revealing her torn gown. "Keep your gallant offering for yourself, Mr. Seton. I have no use for it."

Christopher arched a brow as he peered at her over his shoulder. "Are you trying to convince me how foolish you are?"

"Foolish or n-not, I won't wear it."

"You'll wear it," he stated flatly, giving her cause to wonder if he threatened her. Doffing his own sodden coat and vest, he flung the garments over the boards of a stall. "I'll try to make a fire so we can get dried out a bit."

He prowled about the stable, contemplating the several large holes in the roof. Without a doubt he had his choice of chimneys and a good supply of kindling; it would just be a matter of getting the fire started. Toward that end the tinderbox he carried with him would suffice.

Erienne's shaking limbs gave way beneath her, and she slowly crumpled to her knees. She was aware of Christopher moving about the stables gathering and breaking wood from the stalls, but the idea of a warming fire seemed so distant. She sat in abject misery with her hair hanging in wet strands down her back. Her cheeks and hands were numb and icy, her nose red and cold. Even her shoes were soaked.

When she saw the first small flickering flames begin to glow in the deepening darkness, she found herself too cold and stiff to move to its warmth. She shivered in her wet garb until Christopher came to stand above her. She kept her eyes downcast, too tired to fight with him any longer, and perhaps more pertinently not willing to raise her gaze along the wetly clinging breeches that flaunted his manhood.

"Will ypu come by the fire?" he questioned softly.

Drawing herself into a tight, miserable knot, Erienne shook her head, so tense with the cold she could not answer him. She had her pride, and it was better to be thought stubborn than weak. She failed to consider that Christopher Seton was a man who took matters into his own hands. Reaching down, he pulled her to her feet, then swept her up in his arms. She gritted a denial through clenched teeth, afraid she would be reduced to one shivering, shaking mass if she tried to speak. Despite her feeble protest, Christopher's arms remained warm and secure about her. He set her to her feet near the fire and began to pluck at the ties of her cloak. In a sudden panic, Erienne caught the garment together and tried to pull away, shaking her head.

"N-no! Leave me alone!"

"If you won't help yourself, Erienne, then someone else must do it."

Prying her hands free, he slipped the cloak from her shoulders and let it fall to a sodden heap at her feet. Surprise swept his visage as he glimpsed the tattered shreds of her gown and soft, creamy breasts barely covered by a soaked chemise. Anxiously Erienne gathered the torn pieces of her bodice together and refused to meet his inquiring frown.

"I can understand Smedley becoming eager." His tone was sharp and derisive. "But did he hurt you?"

"W-would it be any of your business if he h-had?" she questioned, puzzled by his anger.

"It might," he answered brusquely. "It all depends on whether your father can pay off his debts or not. Besides, I've gotten in the habit of coming to your rescue, and since you seem in great need of my services, I am reluctant to stop at this early date."

Without pardon or preamble, he turned her about and much to her horror began to unfasten her gown. Shivering violently, Erienne fought to hold the soaked bodice in place over her bosom while trying to pull away from him. The corset pushed her breasts upward until she nearly overflowed the thin chemise, and she knew without the gown, she would have no protection against those probing grayish-green eyes.

Christopher was more determined... and stronger. The gown, the corset, and the layers of petticoats soon lay at her feet. Only then did Erienne gain her freedom.

"Leave me alone!" she gasped, stumbling away from the fire. She tried to cover herself with her arms, for the dampened shift had molded itself in a transparent film to her body.

Christopher came after her and enfolded her quaking form in the redingote. "If you could see past that pretty little nose of yours, you'd realize I'm only trying to help you." He swept her up into his arms. "For a very fiery vixen, you're about as cold and pale as an icicle." His eyes gleamed into hers. "And as I've told you before, I have to protect my investments."

"You brute! Knave!" she railed.

His laughing breath touched her brow. "Your endearments intrigue me, my sweet."

He sat her beside the fire, then knelt to pull off her slippers. Erienne gasped in shock when his hands went up her shift to unfasten the garters at her knees. Against her struggling efforts, he slipped the stockings down and placed them on a stone beside the fire.

"My pleasure would be to take the shift from you as well," he stated with a wicked grin. "So be thankful I've let you retain some of your modesty."

"Don't get any high-minded ideas that you're any better than Mr. Goodfield," she stated hotly. Although she was already beginning to feel warmer and could speak with more clarity, her outrage at being forcefully disrobed prevented her from experiencing the smallest grain of gratitude. "You accost me here in this deserted place and force your will on me. Believe me, sir, my father will hear of this!"

"That will be as you desire, Erienne, but take a warning. I don't run from your family's threats and what I'm doing now is for your own good. If you want someone hurt because of your own stubborn pride, then the consequences will be on your head, not mine."

"I suppose when you wounded my brother, 'twas for his good, too."

Christopher laughed shortly. "Your brother knows what happened. Let him tell you. Or you can ask some of the witnesses who were at the duel. I don't need to defend myself to you or your family."