Page 12 of Horsemen and Hot Chocolate

Even in the shadows, he didn’t miss the way her cheeks darkened. He wasn’t sure what it meant, but it was an appealing reaction.

“I-I found a list of names of those who died during the war,” she said suddenly. She tucked a curl behind her ear, and her gaze averted to the ground. The Horseman studied these reactions, memorizing each to hopefully understand their meaning.

“I also found the ones who had fallen at White Plains by looking up their month and year of death,” she continued. “I narrowed it down to three, but including my brother makes it two,” she said, a hint of pride lacing her voice.

Opening her journal, she extended it to show him her work. The Horseman shuffled hesitantly closer, not wishing to spook her lest she run like a frightened deer.

“See?” she asked. “Perhaps some of these names are familiar to you.”

Before he could peer at the pages, she jerked away suddenly. A gasp flew from her lips. Every nerve fired within him as he jumped back, ripping his sword from his belt. The weapon whistled in the air, his gaze flashing to find the perpetrator. A movement stirred by her legs, and he lowered his weapon in the creature’s direction.

His jagged smile transformed into a scowl, his brows drawn and eyes sharpening.

The tiny creature near her legs peered up with large, orange eyes. The Horseman’s muscles grew taut, ready to lunge at the animal until Katrina’s voice snapped him out of his haze.

“Oh, it’s just Smudge,” she said, “it’s all right, Horseman. This is my cat. He must have followed me.”

Inferno stamped his feet, and fire continued to rage through the Horseman’s veins, but he reluctantly sheathed his sword.

Katrina chuckled, the sound soothing his racing heart. “Do not fret. He won’t bite.”

She knelt to pick up the cat, cradling him in her arms as he purred.

The Horseman eyed the cat warily. No wonder he’d missed the animal’s presence—he blended seamlessly into the night. He’d seen the cat by Katrina’s side over the years and knew the creature had a penchant for following her.

Smudge raised a paw toward him, and he instinctively stepped back.

“Are you not fond of cats?” she asked, stroking Smudge’s chin.

“I do not dislike cats,” he said, regarding the animal’s curious, tangerine eyes. “However, most animals besides Inferno do not tolerate me. I frighten them.”

Her brows furrowed. “Inferno?”

“My horse,” he said in explanation.

She glanced at Inferno and nodded. “I see. Well—” She turned her gaze back on him with a twinkle in her eye. “I believe Smudge might like you if you give him a chance.”

Experience had told him otherwise. Too many critters and birds had made it known he was not their friend. However, the cat leaped from her arms and sashayed toward him, his tail perking into a slight curl. The Horseman froze, careful not to make any sudden movements.

Smudge sniffed around his boots before his paws came up against his shins.

“Aw, see? He likes you,” she cooed.

The Horseman stared at the cat meowing at him. Perhaps Katrina had misunderstood Smudge’s body language, and the cat aimed to claw at him when he got the chance. However, the bright orange eyes took on a round, pleading quality that the Horseman could not resist. Slowly, he bent down, and Smudge rubbed his head against his outstretched hand.

A grin curled on the Horseman’s pumpkin face. Although it wasn’t his true face, he felt the carvings stretch as though the mouth were his own. Smudge purred, brushing his body against his legs.

The Horseman could see why Katrina would be fond of the cat. It was difficult to dislike the affectionate creature.

“It seems like you’re not as frightening as the legends say,” Katrina said softly, crouching beside him to pet Smudge.

The Horseman’s eyes flicked to her face. A strange tingling flooded his chest at her proximity, at how she also didn’t seem to fear him. She smoothed her fingers over the cat’s soft fur, and he was entranced by how her mouth lifted into a pretty smile.

She lifted her gaze, and their eyes met—the curious shade of pink dusted her cheeks again before she cleared her throat.

“About those names,” she started, reaching for the journal behind her. Once the book was in her hands, she sat on the forest floor, her white skirts and dark cloak fanning around her. Smudge curled up next to her, purring contentedly.

“You don’t need to sit there—” he said, but she patted the ground for him to join her.