Page 11 of Horsemen and Hot Chocolate

Sweat dotted her brow, realizing she must do whatever it took to delay him.

“Just a little longer… Brom,” Katrina said sweetly. Raising a finger to her lips, she tapped against the dimple at the corner of her mouth in a teasing manner. “Once you’ve given me time to grieve, I will be eager to consider our future.”

Brom’s face lit up, a smile curving on his lips. He stepped even closer, reaching for her hands and cupping them in his large ones.

“Yes, of course,” he said gently. “I would not wish to rush you. I will be here, waiting for you as your faithful admirer.” Raising her hand, he pressed a kiss to the back of her fingers.

She wished butterflies could storm through her like a love-struck fool, but she felt nothing but indifference at his touch.

“Thank you. I know what I ask isn’t easy…” she began sadly, her gaze drifting to the ground at her satin shoes.

“Think nothing of it,” Brom said, “I can exercise a little more patience.” He winked, and she glanced up at him shyly. Inwardly, she celebrated how successfully her charm swayed him.

“Oi, Brom!” one of his friends shouted across the road. Katrina silently thanked the heavens for his interruption.

The rest of the Sleepy Hollow Riders hooted and whistled teasingly before another hollered, “You’ve had enough time with your lady love. Come finish this so we can make our wagers!”

Irritation flashed over Brom’s features before he tilted his hat in farewell. “My lady,” he said, “I will be waiting.”

With that, he turned and joined his rowdy clan. Relief expelled from her lips as she watched him go.

“Oh, what a fine man he is,” Greta said beside her, her eyes glimmering with admiration. “You’re a very lucky lady, Miss Katrina. Though he seems so eager! I doubt he’ll be able to wait too long to propose.”

Katrina bit back a grimace. Greta was right. Brom would become impatient again, and keeping him waiting would become more difficult. With determination fueling her steps, she strode to the graveyard to write as much information as she could from the list of fallen soldiers. Greta struggled to keep up with her, but she couldn’t slow down. The sands of time raced against her.

Chapter seven

The wind stirred beneath his horse’s feet. Each step muffled under the sweet, damp earth and withered leaves. The Horseman tugged on Inferno’s reins as he neared the property: the Van Tassel Estate. Beyond the trees, orchards, and fields of wheat filled his vision—the crisp scent of apples and pine carried on the breeze.

He’d familiarized himself with this place like the shadows knew the night. Some invisible thread tied him to the estate—to the mystifying young woman he couldn’t stop thinking about. She’d drawn him in like flies to honey with her enchanting spirit for as long as he could remember. Without fail, there was a relentless urge that refused to go away unless he confirmed her safety every day.

As the years passed, he never once believed he’d reveal himself to her. How could he? Not when he was the monster in the shadows—an enigmatic ghost plaguing the villagers’ nightmares.

Yet, in a twist of fate, all of that changed. He had spoken to Katrina, touched her hand, and sat beside her, drinking her sweet hot chocolate. She had promised to help him rediscover his memories. It must have been a lovely but impossible dream, but the pounding beneath his chest confirmed it had all been real.

However, a voice whispered he’d gone mad. Katrina would not come to see him tonight or any night to come—a tightness formed in his chest. Inferno shifted beneath his saddle, sensing his unease. The breeze blew against his solid chest, but he did not feel its cold. Perhaps Katrina had changed her mind. What sensible person would want to meet a specter in the dead of night?

Besides the leaves swirling in the air, the forest was eerily still. How long had he been waiting? Minutes? Hours? How much longer would he continue to wait until she sought him out?

A twig snapped in the distance, and he stirred at the sound, his hope igniting and then extinguishing when silence followed.

Leaves crunched beneath footsteps. The outline of a slender, feminine figure formed, and a jolt of thrill ran through him. Once she was in sight of the scarred tree, he dismounted his steed, and anticipation buzzed as he led the horse by the reins to greet her.

She had come. She had sought him out of her own volition for the second time. His hand clenched the reins, unable to contain these new, surging emotions. The horse snorted, his red eyes flashing, but Inferno tolerated her presence otherwise.

“Good evening,” she said, fanning her deep blue cloak into a curtsey. Beneath, she wore a striking red wrapper with golden florals, but he wondered if she was warm enough without her typical daywear.

The Horsman lifted his pumpkin head in return. He’d seen the gesture the village men performed countless times to memorize the formalities.

Katrina’s eyes grew wide. Biting her lip, she raised her hand to her mouth, unable to contain her giggles.

The Horseman’s smile grew. Whatever he’d done, he wished to do it again. He enjoyed the sound of her soft laughter.

“Good evening,” he said in return. It came out like a deep thrum—foreign and strange. Words still grated against his invisible throat since he was still unused to speaking. However, he’d push past the strain and awkwardness if it meant conversing with Katrina like a typical man.

“It was kind of you to meet closer to me,” she said, gesturing to the estate behind her.

He nodded gravely. “I will go wherever you wish me to go.”