She might feel differently if it were colder, but for now, she felt renewed somehow.
When they reached the trees she wondered at who she’d become, but then scoffed at herself. The death of Jean Luc had scrambled her in more ways than one.
Oh, but this storm was magnificent. Warm hands grasped her from behind and vigorously rubbed the length of her arms.
“Oh, Niles. May I call you Niles? I forget how powerful nature can be!”
His motions slowed and for a moment, she felt his chin resting atop her head, as though he too would take a moment to appreciate the spectacle. “You’re a unique woman.”
“Eve,” she supplied. “Call me Eve.” Under such primitive circumstances, it felt odd to address one another by either Mister or Missus.
“Eve.” His voice sounded husky. From their exertions, likely.
“I am different than most of my counterparts anyways.” She knew she wasn’t like other ladies of her acquaintance. Ladies who’d lived their entire lives dependent upon husbands, brothers, and fathers. Her daughters, she knew, would be different as well. It was why she’d sent the younger girls to finishing school this past year. She wanted them strong, but without the sharp edges she herself had formed.
Although she did admit, such strength had saved her eldest. She shivered and his arms wound around her middle. She covered them with her own and leaned against his solid warmth. Mr. Waverly — Niles — was different too.
In all their dealings, he’d never acted controlling or overbearing. Yes, she employed him. But other business managers had tried manipulating her. Other business managers she’d utilized had gone to her husband to question her decisions.
Niles had not.
“You’re different in a good way,” he supplied.
The words warmed her even more than his body. She’d lived amongst the ton for most of her life but oftentimes felt like an imposter. Less feminine. Less respectable.
Just.
Less.
“Thank you.”
Perhaps she could drop her defenses with him because he was not one of them. Despite his demeanor and speech, he had never been a member of the upper class.
His manners and dress were impeccable. And, yes, his looks quite surpassed those of most younger men, let alone men his own age.
But he was not another nob seeking any means available to pay off his debts. Abhorrent as the notion was, she’d been protected by her marriage. Now a widow, in possession of considerable funds, she’d best be wary.
But not with Niles.
Her very own Mr. Waverly.
And then she caught herself. What on earth was she thinking? He wasn’t her Niles. Her Mr. Waverly. He was her man of business!
She stepped out of his warming embrace, wrapped her own arms around her front, and shivered again as a gust of wind swept through her.
Her gown was soaked, through and through. Even worse, the storm showed no signs of letting up. In fact, the sky looked even darker in the distance.
They’d found themselves in such dire straits due to her selfishness and impatience. As she berated herself, she was vaguely aware of Niles moving around behind her. He’d said nothing when she’d pushed herself away from him. Was he feeling the same fleeting, completely temporary attraction that she had?
There was, of course, the moment directly following the crash, when she’d felt him—
“Come sit down. It’s dryer back here.” How was it that he could speak such an edict without it sounding like either a command or an invitation? He was speaking to her in his man of business voice again.
She turned to find that he’d fashioned the bulk of his great coat into a small tent of sorts.
Eve could be stubborn or she could be warm.
Another shiver.
