Secluded with the Rogue

Chapter 8

Eight

T he next few days passed in utter bliss for Calista. The snow had fallen steadily and as a result, most visitors had stayed away.

They’d attended a small party at the magistrate’s house, who’d recovered from the cold that had set chins wagging, and endured an excruciating dinner and Reverend and Mrs. Faust’s. But other than that, the four of them had spent their days chatting, laughing, and preparing for Christmas.

Calista spent most of her time with Marianne, but sometimes, when her duties called her away, or David invented some reason for them to disappear together, she was alone with Ezra.

She’d stopped calling him Lord Tilton at his insistence, and when she’d protested that he shouldn’t call her Calista because it was inappropriate, he’d simply ignored her and called her Calista anyway.

This morning was one of those times it was just the two of them. Marianne had left them after breakfast to take care of her correspondences, and David was touring the estate with his manager. Though it had been snowing steadily, there was talk from some of the tenant farmers that something of a blizzard was beginning to make itself known and David wanted to make sure all the roofs of the estate cottages were in good repair, should people become snowed in.

Calista watched the sky from her seat by the window, her insides fluttering with anxiety. “You know, I think I should collect the holly berries and boughs for Mrs. Faust in case the weather worsens.”

Ezra looked up from the book he’d been reading. The silence between them had been so companionable, so comfortable, that she was loathe to break it. But she’d taken to just blurting out her thoughts to the man and so far, he’d been a wonderful listener.

Until now. His face darkened as he scowled at the snow picking up speed. “You’re not going out in that for Mrs. Faust and her ridiculous demands,” he declared as though he had the right to decide for her.

Immediately, Calista’s hackles rose. “Forgive me,” she said, saccharine sweet, “there seems to be a misunderstanding. I wasn’t asking your permission.”

He glared at her for a moment, before that rogueish grin made an appearance. It was his most dangerous smile. The one that made her lose her mind and want to throw herself at him.

“Fair enough,” he conceded. “But am I allowed to request that you don’t do something as foolish as traipse about outside when there’s a blizzard threatening?”

She rolled her eyes at his sarcasm. “If I don’t get them now, I might not be able to do it on time.”

“So what?” he countered. “She asks too much of you, Calista. You don’t owe her anything.”

“But I said I’d help.”

He sighed as though she were trying his very last nerve, which she probably was. “If you put yourself into a dangerous situation for a few holly branches, I will happily wring that pretty little neck of yours,” he groused. “Those damsel in distress dreams you had? They’ll become a nightmarish reality. And I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there’s a concerning lack of white knights around here to rescue you.”

Calista didn’t appreciate his bringing up her childish pact, even if what he said made sense.

With her temper flaring, she stood up, dropping the book she’d been trying to read. “I don’t need a white knight,” she snapped. “I need foliage. And I’m going to get it. I don’t want anyone thinking I was incapable.”

She was displaying her vulnerabilities in a glaring light with those words. Calista knew it and by the softening of his expression, Ezra knew it too. He watched her for a moment before grumbling under his breath about impossible women.

“Fine,” he declared, rising to tower over her. “Meet me in the foyer in ten minutes. And bloody well wrap up. Not because you’re delicate, but because there’s a damned snowstorm.”

It didn’t feel like the right time to scold him for his language, so she didn’t bother. “Meet you?” she asked his retreating back. “For what?”

He winked over his shoulder. “To get your holly. I might not be a white knight but if it’s important to you then I’m helping. Go get your cloak, Damsel. We have work to do.”

Two hours later, Calista found herself wondering if she should have just let Ezra wring her neck and be done with it. It was so cold that she’d lost feeling in her toes minutes ago and the snow that had been falling thick and fast was now battering them in sheets. She could barely see in front of her, she could hear nothing about the screeches and howls of the wind that was shoving her backward when she tried to walk forward.

It was, in a word, disastrous. More than that, it was beginning to feel dangerous.

Ezra had met her with two huge baskets that he’d snagged from flirting with Cook in the kitchens. One was empty for collecting her boughs and berries. The other was stuffed with food, hot cider, and wine, he’d informed her. “If you’re dragging me out there I’m going to make sure I have supplies,” he’d joked.

But there was nothing funny about their situation now.

She’d been a stubborn fool and insisted on walking further and further from the house, just because he’d annoyed her in the library. But thirty minutes ago the weather had taken a sharp and sudden turn.

“The blizzard,” Ezra had said darkly. “We weren’t expecting it to hit so soon.”

After that, conversing had become impossible. Calista’s basket had fallen from her frozen hands minutes ago but she hadn’t even bothered trying to stop to pick it up.

Ezra had hold of her arm and she could do nothing but stumble after him, despite his best efforts in keeping her upright. She had no idea where they were going but she no longer cared.

As bolshy as she’d been about being able to withstand the snow, staying out in this weather for long would make anyone gravely sick. Her heart was pounding, and fear was turning her stomach in the most nauseating way.

What would they do? If they stayed out in this they would surely die. She would die without ever having that kiss she’d longed for. Without ever having experienced love or even lust.

These last few days of Ezra had awoken her in ways she never could have imagined. Had made her feel things she had been afraid to name. Things she’d longed for as a girl.

He made her laugh, made her smile, treated her as an equal, and challenged her daily. He made her heart stumble and butterflies erupt in her belly. He made her want things; wicked, wanton things she’d only ever read about in the novels she wasn’t supposed to own.

He would be the one, she thought with a silent sob. He would be the kiss. The true love she’d dreamed of. And now she’d put him in peril.

It was so loud that she couldn’t even tell him she was sorry. So she silently trudged after him, knowing she would have given him everything and that she’d probably never get the chance.

F ear unlike anything he’d ever experienced was clawing at Ezra as he battled the elements. Not for himself but for the lady trembling behind him.

It was his own damned fault. He’d been so entertained by her stubbornness that instead of insisting they return to the house an hour ago, he’d happily followed her through the snow, happy to just be there beside her.

And now? Now he’d gotten them caught in a damned blizzard and she was shaking, and she’d get sick, and much as he didn’t see her as some delicate flower there was no denying that if a serious illness took hold of her, it might not let her go this time.

He wanted to vomit at the idea. He wanted to rage against the skies. He wanted to beg for a miracle.

Most of all, he wanted her safe.

With every step he took seeking shelter, he tried to reassure himself. David’s hunting lodge wasn’t too far. It was small and rustic, but solid and dry. It had supplies since he’d had it filled for their abandoned expedition last week. It had firewood. And unless they’d veered off the trail, which was worrying possible in this storm, he had a chance of getting her there and getting her warm.

Another shudder wracked her body, he could feel it even though the only part of her he held was her hand. He’d never realized how small her hand was, how fragile and delicate.

While he’d been realizing so much about her, about himself, about the terrifying feelings she awoke in him, he’d never, ever thought of her as fragile. But she was and now she was in mortal danger.

For one, mad moment he felt like giving him. Like turning to her and holding her and telling her that he suspected she might have done the impossible; burrowed her way into his heart and taken up residence. He felt like throwing himself on his knees and begging for forgiveness that he couldn’t be that white knight of hers. That he couldn’t save her from the storm. That he couldn’t be her first, real kiss.

But he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t stop trying.

Every step they took became more laborious. Ezra could feel Calista slowing down, could feel the energy seeping from her and his panic kicked up a notch. He found himself trying to bargain with God Himself promising to never drink to excess again, never to visit the hells of St. Giles, never again to visit his mistresses. Anything. Anything to get Calista to safety.

He trudged on, wondering how things could have changed so quickly. Not just the weather. But him. He had changed in a matter of days. She had changed him. And it was terrifying. Heartbreaking too, because it didn’t seem as though he’d ever get the chance to tell her.

To give her that kiss.

His energy was fast depleting. He was seconds from his legs giving out. But, Christ, he’d drag her to safety if he had to. If he could just get a glimpse of somewhere safe.

He stumbled. The snow kept lashing. The wind kept howling. And he was on the cusp of admitting defeat when Calista gave one, barely there squeeze of his hand. He looked back in her direction but she was squinting to the side. And when he followed her gaze, he damn near wept.

It was there. The hunting lodge.

His prayers had been answered. And it looked like he was about to turn his whole life around to keep up his end of the deal.