The Rakehell Regency Romance Collection Volume 2(233)

What on earth must he think of her? A lone woman journeying to London by herself? How was he to know that her usual two chaperones, her nanny and housekeeper, had been unfit to accompany her to see her step-brother? He must think her quite an experienced woman of the world judging from the questions he had asked.



But she had spoken the truth--the kiss had been the most marvelous thing she had ever experienced in her whole life, as warm and wonderful as a summer's day. She had had a vision of them rolling in a newly mown field, happy, laughing, the sun shining, as if they hadn't a care in the world. It had been pure magic.



She started at the sound of Blake's voice.



"I said, are you ready?"



"Oh, yes."



His tone was sharp. "You can't fall asleep out there, Belle."



"No, no, I won't." She gave him her bravest smile.



His heart turned over. He kissed her lips fleetingly and then covered her nose and mouth with her makeshift scarf consisting of a dark blue linen shawl she had wrapped around herself several times.



"Let's go. We'll be back for you in fifteen minutes, James. Stay warm in the meantime."



The perspiration soon began to run down her back in irritating trickles as they worked side by side to clear the path, she throwing the snow to her right, and he to his left. She had to take two shovels of snow to each of his one to keep up, but it was fairly loose and powdery in places, and they only removed about two feet of it.



"The horse can get through that depth, I'm sure. Press on," Blake said as he moved ahead.



Her ribs ached like mad, but she was not going to give in. The prospect of warmth, safety and a good bed were too tempting for her to quit now. Drat and blast, she thought to herself.



All this trouble to avoid a guardian she was afraid she would despise, and she had nearly ended up dead. Crushed to death in the carriage, or frozen to death if Dr. Sanderson hadn't saved her.



If ever she had ever had doubts about guardian angels, they had been removed by the presence of the handsome doctor beside her. For she felt that as long as he was by her side, she could never come to any harm.



It was a foolish notion, she knew, for once they were at the inn, he would go his way, and she hers. Still, he was a most respectable and eligible gentleman…. No, he had wife and ten children at home, she was convinced of it.



But then, he had kissed her. Well, she had kissed him, if she was being completely candid about it. She had not been able to help herself…



He surprised her again by starting to sing hymns to keep the rhythm going as they worked. She joined in with ‘Amazing Grace' and continued their duet with ‘Abide with Me' and ‘A Mighty Fortress is My God'.



At the end of it, he said, "Look, it's a lot clearer in this next section."



"But it's uphill. The horse's feet will never-"



"Do we have any more lamp oil?"



"Yes, nearly a full bottle."



"Come on, Belle. Hurry."



She looked at him questioningly for a second, and followed on. "Get James up on the box, now."



They heaved the young man on board and got the horse moving. He ploughed stolidly through the trench they had dug. They got enough momentum to get partly up the hill, but the carriage began to slide.



Blake jumped out, bottle and tinder box in hand. He sprinkled the oil on the snow, and set it alight with a burning ember. It flared brightly, and began to melt the snow, until the dirt track below was visible. He continued on up the hill, burning a path for the horse to struggle up with his burlap-clad hooves.



A rumble in the air alerted them to another storm on the way, but Blake noted with relief that the temperature was a great deal warmer than it had been, and not just because of the physical exertions he had been undergoing digging and trudging through the snow.



Now large drops of rain spattered down, washing much of the snow away.



"Thank God."



"Blake, come inside!" she called.



But one look at James told him the lad was just about done in.



"Give me the Macintosh fabric, Son, and get inside with Belle and Mr. Greengage," he instructed.



James made a token protest, but he was shivering as if with the ague. Blake got up on the step and grabbed at him before he fell.



He lifted the rubberized cloak from over the man's head, settled him back into the coach, into the arms of Belle, he noted with another stab of jealousy, and got back on the box once more.



The chilling rain ran down in him rivulets and the road was still icy and craggy in places, with large drifts.



After another hour, he blinked, and blinked again. Swiping the rain from his eyes, he was almost certain he could see…