The Brahmin Ball (A Sweet Historical Romance Novella) (Brahmin Brides Book 1) (11 page)

“We’ll rest here a while before we go on?” she asked, pulling down the covers.

He brought the horses to a stop in front of the door. “No. We’re not going to make it tonight. We’ll have to stay here.”

“You can’t mean that.” She clutched the furs to her bosom. “You said we’d take shelter—not
sleep
here!”

He hopped out and started unhitching the horses. “I do. It’s another two hours to my sister’s place, and the visibility is only getting worse. There’s nowhere decent between here and my sister’s house to take shelter. This is it. We’re lucky I found it—I almost missed the turn-off.”

“But—but—” she stammered, “there is no one else here.”

“And we’re lucky for that. There are only accommodations for two here. Assuming someone hasn’t made off with one of the two chairs that were here last time, that is.”

“You are not funny, Mr. Porter.” She stood up in the sleigh and stomped her foot. “I insist you take me to a proper place to stay.”

The horses whinnied and stomped in place, jostling the sleigh. Madeline slipped fell back into her seat with a hard thump. The driver took the horses by their bridles and spoke in soothing tones until they quieted. Then he stalked back to the sleigh.

“If you insist on throwing a childish fit,” he snarled, “please do it outside the sleigh, before you provoke my horses into bolting. They are tired and so am I, and I don’t want to lose them and my sleigh in a snowstorm because you are indulging in a tantrum over not having a soft, fancy place to lay your head tonight.”

She swallowed her rage at being spoken to with such disrespect, only because she realized he was right—she could have caused a dreadful accident. “I’m sorry. I am. But it has nothing to do with a fancy place to lay my head. That—” she pointed at the ramshackle habitation, “is a very small cabin which, according to you, can only sleep two.
Two!
There is no one here to act as chaperone. What is my future husband to think when he finds out I spent the night alone with the sleigh driver?”

“If he had any sense, he’d be glad that I made a level-headed decision that kept his bride-to-be safe and alive! Not that I’d accuse Croft of having any sense.” He muttered the last part as he walked back to his horses, but Madeline caught it.

“What is your problem with Mr. Croft? Clearly you don’t like him. What has he done to you?”

He kept his eyes on the horse’s harness, heaving a heavy sigh. “Nothing. He has always paid me what I earned. He’s brash, but hasn’t mistreated me, personally. I have no reason not to like him.”

“And yet you don’t.” She tilted her head, waiting for an answer.

“Get back under your covers, Miss Barstow, before you let out all the heat.”

“What heat?” she mumbled as she sat back and pulled the blankets over her. “You let the coal burn out ages ago.”

***

-excerpted from
Mail Order Regrets
, by Julianna Blake, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED

If you enjoyed
The Brahmin Ball
, look for Book 2 of the
Brahmin Brides
series, coming soon!

About the Author:

Julianna Blake is a historical romance author who was born in the wrong century, and enjoys creating worlds where she (and her readers) can walk around in a lovely silk day dress and feel right at home!

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Amazon’s Julianna Blake page
.

For a complete list of Julianna Blake’s stories, visit

www.JuliannaBlakeAuthor.blogspot.com

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