His legs were so stiff he could barely move them. Belle was immediately out of the carriage to take the water bottle and rugs and help him down.
He fell into her arms heavily. Though she gave a gasp of pain, her knees straightened and she was able to help him hobble back into the carriage. As he got in, James got out the other side.
"My turn," he said.
"But-"
"I'll be right back."
She lifted the Macintosh from his head and then got James kitted out and up onto the box. The broken leg stuck straight out in front of him as he sat down, but he braced himself against the corner of the box with a full new footwarmer, and soon they were moving once more.
Belle enfolded Blake in the traveling rugs and had him sit almost on top of two of the footwarmers while she replenished the other and tried to dry out the rugs.
He shivered uncontrollably, and she put his frozen face in her warm palms. Then she moved closer, and blew gently.
He grabbed a hot water bottle from off the fire, put it in his lap, and pulled her onto it as well. She blinked in surprise, but understood. Soon she began to blow on his cheeks.
It was more than even a restrained man like Blake could bear. He tilted his head, and kissed her, felt himself thawing in her arms in every sense of the word.
Her kiss was honey-sweet, and made him forget for a moment even his own name. He could taste dew, smell freshly mown grass, feel the summer sunshine upon his face, the warmth penetrating his bones, his soul…
Desire coursed through him, hot, ragged and oh so urgent. With his hands on her face, stroking her delicate petal-soft skin and brow with his thumbs, he deepened the kiss still further, as if they could absorb each other fully and be made one.
His manhood throbbed painfully against the hot water bottle which separated their lower bodies by only a few inches. All he had to do was…
The carriage slid sideways, sending Belle sprawling off his lap. He tried to catch her, but his hands upon her ribs wrung a sharp cry from her.
He grabbed her arm as she nearly crashed onto Mr. Greengage's prone body. Then the carriage righted itself and she was on her feet safely.
"I'm sorry, so sorry," Blake began to say abjectly.
"They're not that sore," she said, holding herself around the middle gently.
"I meant about…"
"None of this is your fault. Don't keep apologizing. I made my choices. I chose to press on to London, I chose to touch you. Chose to well, kiss you. Let you kiss me. It was comforting. Caring. Crackling with, with fire."
Belle was looking at him in wonder. She was so breathtakingly lovely Blake had all to do not to pull her into his lap again. Instead he yanked up the shade and dropped down the sash.
"All right up there?" he called.
"Slippery, but all right. No snow now, but it's freezing."
"You feel yourself getting sleepy, you stop, no matter what, do you hear me? Don't try to be a hero."
"Yes, sir, I hear you."
Blake slammed the window shut and pulled the covers off the footwarmers. He put his hands and face as close to them as he dared. "Gosh, it's so bitter."
"But every mile is that much closer to safety. You're very brave."
"Or very foolish," he said curtly.
"No, brave. We'd be long dead if you hadn't stopped. And hadn't known what to do, thought about the long-term practicalities of survival."
"I learned in Portugal and Spain. Cold and disease killed just as many men as the French did. More perhaps. And look at Napoleon's Russian campaign. You can defy man, but not the elements. Nearly a quarter of a million men learned that to their cost."
"You were in the Army then, as a doctor?" she asked with interest.
"Yes," he said. "But it is not really a fit subject for a lady's hearing, and I-"
A groan from Mr. Greengage made them both start and look at him.
"Where am I?"
"We're trying to get to the nearest village. We had an accident, do you remember?" Belle said quickly.
"God, it's so cold. The pain."
Blake fetched his medical bag, though his hands were still trembling so badly he dropped it on the seat. "A spoonful of the liquid in that green bottle," he indicated, pressing his hands together to quell their shaking.
She dosed the patient and tried to rearrange the clothes and travelling rugs and bottles to make him more comfortable. She held up the water bottle, and at Blake's nod, gave him something to drink.
"Can we risk food?"
"Not at this stage. Soon, though. He kept down the other water we gave him."
"I'm not hungry in any case," he said quietly.