Snow.
Snoweverywhere.
A habitually early riser, Nicholas woke before Lavinia. Lounging on his side, he studied her for a few moments, observing the way the muted dawn light made circular dapples across her smooth skin and illuminated the notes of chestnut in her mane of mahogany. She slept peacefully, her breathing steady and even, her lashes fans of ebony across the top of her sculpted cheekbones.
He considered what she’d said last night before passion had quelled their words. About want versus need. And although he was reluctant to admit it, she was right. His business ventures, his mergers, his companies…those were wants. Ambitious wants. Competitive wants. But he didn’tneedthem. Not any longer. His empire had been built. His name had been branded. He could hand over the reins to any number of competent men and control his interests from afar.
But he couldn’t hand over Lavinia.
At the mere thought of losing her, his chest tightened and he lightly ran his knuckles along the delicate curve of her ear, brushing a stray tendril away from her face. What would be the worth of all his work if it came at the expense of the one thing money could not buy?
When is it enough, Nicholas?
Now, he told himself grimly. It was enough now, because it had to be. Because he wouldn’t forsake the woman he loved for a business without flesh, or blood, or bone. The woman he’d taken for granted. The woman he’d consistently placed second. Third. Fourth.
Last.
The woman he’d braved a bloody snowstorm to find, because in the end…in the end, Lavinia was all that mattered.
When had he forgotten that?
When hadtheyforgotten that?
Drawing a blanket over her shoulders, he placed a tender kiss on her brow and then set about restoring the fire to a cheery blaze. Once the flames had caught hold, he arranged a platter of food from what had been packed for him–a hunk of cheese wrapped in beeswax cloth, thickly sliced slabs of bacon, dried figs–and then went to check on the horses and Bartholomew, whom he’d met in the barn shortly after his arrival.
It was hard going. The snow had continued to fall through the night, and while the skies were clear this morning, the sun shone down on a veritable mountain of white that reached past Nicholas’s knees as he carved himself a path from the cottage to the barn.
Short of breath by the time he reached the double set of doors, he locked his shoulder into one and managed to pry it wide enough to stick his head inside.
“Bartholomew? I’ve brought you some food.”
The driver emerged from a stall, bits of straw clinging to his clothes. “Thank you, my lord,” he said, accepting the tidy package Nicholas held out with a grateful nod. “It’s much appreciated. How can I be of service to you and Lady Wilshire?”
“Keep tending to the horses,” Nicholas instructed. “We’ll need them hale and hearty if we’re ever to get out of this mess. I take it that enormous lump of snow I passed on the way here is our carriage?”
“Aye,” Bartholomew said ruefully. “It wouldn’t fit inside the barn. Not that it matters much, as we’ll not be traveling anywhere until the road is clear.”
“How long will that take, do you think?”
“It’s hard to tell. A few days? A week?”
Nicholas frowned. “We’ve only enough food to see us through to tomorrow.”
“There’s a manor not far from here. Lord and Lady Appleton. I doubt they’re in residence, but they keep a full staff regardless. My cousin is their butler. If I leave now, I can be back by nightfall with supplies.” Bartholomew looked at the stall behind him where a handsome bay gelding was watching their exchange with a bright, alert gaze. “Even faster if I take Dominion.”
“Take him.” Nicholas knew of Lord Appleton, an earl nearly twice his age with a fondness for hunting. He’d make sure to send him a note of gratitude, along with a new hound pup to add to the earl’s renowned collection of springer spaniels.
After seeing Bartholomew off, he returned to the cottage where Lavinia was awake and waiting for him. Wearing a white cotton long shift and a blanket draped over her shoulders, she greeted him with a small, hesitant smile.
“All is well with the horses?”
Nicholas nodded. “I sent Bartholomew for supplies. It appears we’ll be snowed in for a while.”
“Until Christmas?”
“At least.”
Silence came again, interlaced with a brittle tension that hadn’t been present last night. Knotting her hands around the ends of the blanket, Lavinia brought it to her chin as she glanced down at the floor. Shifting his weight, Nicholas scratched his jaw where a shadow of whiskers had emerged without his valet to shave them. From somewhere in a neighboring room, a clock’s pendulum swung from side to side.
