Her feet were sliding from beneath her before she knew what was happening, and her entire body folded down upon her right ankle. When she struggled to rise to her feet, the ankle refused to obey. She leveraged herself upright again, sweat on her brow, and hobbled to the nearest building, the livery stable, so she could hold onto it and steady herself.
The snow was falling more thickly now. Great white puffs of ice that had already blanketed the road. She was nearly on the outskirts of town, and there wasn’t a soul stirring. Dense silence surrounded her, all sound smothered by the storm. Somehow, she would have to make it the last eighth of a mile home, even if she had to do it one throbbing, painful inch at a time.
She’d just mustered the courage to take the first step, when a flashy chestnut horse appeared around the corner. Jess immediately knew to whom it belonged. His head was bowed against the wind, but he sawed on the reins when he came in sight of her.
Cadoc Morgan practically leapt from his horse and led it over to her. “Are you hurt?” He shouted over the eerie howl of the wind.
“My ankle,” Jess confessed.
“Your cottage is on my way, I’ll make sure you get there safely.”
Jess braced herself to step forward, but he must have seen something in her face. He looped his mount’s reins over the hitching post and scooped her into his arms. “Obviously I don’t have a lady’s saddle, so you’ll need to grasp the pommel,” he said as he lifted her up.
“You needn’t escort me home, Mr. Morgan,” she protested.
He snorted in obvious amusement. “Then how will you get there, pray tell? You’ll be an icicle by the time you reach it and only make your ankle worse. What if you cause irreparable damage? Let me stow your packages in the saddle bags and we’ll be off.”
Jess watched in disbelief as he gathered all her purchases. He even chased down one of the spools of thread being hurtled pell mell down the lane by a gust of wind. Once he’d secured them all, he grasped the reins firmly in one hand and swung himself up behind her. She could feel the solid warmth of him against her back, and his body became a shield against the wind. When they lurched forward, Jess valiantly fought the urge to grasp his arm.
“I would have made it home,” she mumbled from behind her scarf.
“At the risk of what, you obstinate woman? Can’t you simply be grateful for my timely rescue?”
“I do not wish to imbalance the scales between us. And though I’m grateful for your rescue, it changes nothing. I am not ready to give you my answer.”
“I would not accept it if you tried to do so. When you come to me, Jess Wainwright, I want your eyes wide open and your steps without hesitation.”
“You seem confident of the outcome, Mr. Morgan.”
“I am a hunter of sorts, madam. And I’ve made certain you have little recourse but to accept my wager.”
“My sister Lavinia believes you are the devil incarnate. I’ve told her of your blackmail threat.”
“Given her profession, I should hire a taste tester.”
Jess smiled wryly. “She did ask me if I needed her to find a way to poison you.”
“I have risen to a place my family should never have risen to, and I’ve endeavored to stick to my principles while doing it. Your sister isn’t the first person to want my demise.”
“She’s quite adept. You should tread carefully. Perhaps you can simply drop me at the door instead of risking the chance of stirring her wrath.”
“You shouldn’t put weight on your ankle, and we are nearly there.” His arm grazed her cheek as he raised it to point out how close they were.
Jess could barely make out the cottage through the swirling snow. There was no sign of the rooster, who was usually perched on the gate no matter the weather. He had a tendency to peck at the heels of strangers and was a superb guardian.
When they stopped at the gate, he looped the reins over the newel post and dismounted first.
He raised his arms. “I’ll catch you.”
Jess closed her eyes and slid quite ungraciously into his embrace. He caught her, and when she would have slipped away, his hand slid to her hip. “No. You’ll allow me to carry you.”
“I know resistance is futile,” she said as she rolled her eyes.
This time, when he lifted her into his arms, Jess was determined to focus on some point in the distance instead of stealing a glance at his profile. She could feel the rise and fall of his muscled chest against her side, and the image of it naked and covered in a sheen of sweat and his ridiculously open shirt flashed through her brain. She laced her hands behind his neck and faced resolutely forward.
Chapter Six
Cadocwantedtolaughat the obstinacy of the woman in his arms. He’d heard the hitch in her breath when he set his hands on her waist. She was far from impervious to his touch. The curtains in the front window fluttered, and before he could knock, the door was flung open.
