Then again,really, how hard could it be to pass muster? Jack had eventually accepted her tale.No sense borrowing trouble, Stanley.
One postilion at a time.
She passed the next mile huddling as close as possible to the shiny black paint. Yet, by mile two, all the work-stored warmth had melted out of her clothes. And, if anything, the winter bit harder than before her exertions—her first layer was damp with sweat.
She pressed her face directly against the wood, willing the wind to pass her by. She closed her eyes, imagining the wonder of fire—part light and the rest, blessed,blessedheat.
Behind her lids, fire’s many forms danced.
Candles…
Tallow, beeswax, fat-coated thrush—she’d take any form of light.
Fires…
Coal, wood, brush, leaves—she’d take any form of warmth, too.
A low-hanging branch caught the top of Rayne’s trunk, and the mother tree delivered an additional deluge, which gathered into an unforgiving stream that snaked beneath her hat and onto her neck before leaving a slug-like trail against her spine.
Silently, she whimpered.
By the time they reached the inn, she’d be soaked through. And she hadn’t any extra clothes. She had money, of course. She’d planned to buy whatever she needed on the way. But she hadn’t anticipated needing to change so soon.
Damn Farring.
And damn herself for listening to him.
This wasn’t adventure.
This was foolishness of the highest order.
Dear heavens, if he found out, Markham was going to besoangry.
And Bromton? Well, forget pirates! Bromton Castle had dungeons down below. Left to the men in her family, she might never see the sun again.
As for the women, Clarissa was the only one who might beslightlyamused. But Katherine…?
Katherine would be deeply disappointed. And, if Julia ended up frozen or ruined or worse—Katherine would be heartbroken, too. Katherine had worked hard to be the mother Julia had never known. Now, Katherineshouldbe free to think of her own children.
Julia winced away the sudden wave of guilt.
Wet or not, she couldn’t change course now. All she could do was dream of a warm, cheerful fire. Or, at the very least, aroof.
She sighed.
A cup of tea would be nice, too. And a steaming, meat-filled pastry.
Just imagining the smell turned her arms to jelly. Her foot slipped off the rail. She banged her knee while righting herself and swallowed a yelp of pain.
Heavens.
Her vivid mental pictures werenothelping. She set aside thoughts of castigationandcomfort. Right now, she needed to hold to triumph—Rayne, on his knees,beggingher to forgive him.
Her cheeks ached, but she purposefully spread her lips into a smile. She might not know how, exactly, but his humblingwouldcome to pass. She would force him to see how wrong he’d been. About everything.
Her fingers tightened around the handle. She leaned to the side and opened her eyes into the wind. Faint light shimmered in the distance.
Not far now—maybe a half mile off.Thatwas how she was going to survive this. One postilion at a time. One mile at a time. One stop at a time.
