Secluded with the Rogue

Chapter 9

Nine

C alista didn’t feel cold anymore. She didn’t feel anything. She was completely, utterly numb.

The last few minutes were a blur. She vaguely recalled Ezra dragging her toward this little cottage. She seemed to remember the faint sound of him shouting, then cursing before being unceremoniously hefted over his shoulder.

And then, nothing. Stillness.

She’d been dropped into a chair that was dragged before the hearth and left sitting here.

But slowly, as the seconds ticked by, the numbness began to dissipate. The feeling returning to her fingers, her toes, was awful. A stinging tingling as though thousands of needles were pricking the skin. But that was nothing compared to the pain in her jaw. Her teeth had begun to chatter and despite her best efforts, she couldn’t stop it.

And she couldn’t even offer to help Ezra with whatever he was rushing around doing, because the only movement her body seemed capable of after the numbness was great, big shudders.

She felt the fluttering of panic but could do nothing but sit there and feel it. Feel it all. And she was fairly sure that she’d cry if her tear ducts didn’t feel frozen solid.

Suddenly though, Ezra was there, on his haunches in front of her chair, his face filled with a worry she’d never seen before. Even when she’d been at her sickest in the past, nobody had ever looked like this; on the edge of insanity with fear.

“Calista, love. Are you with me?”

Her heart wanted to react to him, but no part of her body was cooperating. Ezra’s stormy eyes, dark with an emotion she couldn’t name, darted between her own, desperation oozing from him.

He lifted a hand and pressed it against her face, his thumb stroking back and forth across her cheek. “Calista.” His voice was coarse, the gravelly tone scraping over her nerves. “We have to get you warm, love. We have to get you out of these clothes.”

There was that word again. ‘Love’. It heated her like nothing else could. She blinked at him before managing a small nod. The action was tiny but his shoulders slumped and he dropped his head, murmuring ‘thank God’ before jumping to his feet again. “Can you stand?” he asked.

“Y-y-yes,” she chattered, but when it came to it, she didn’t think she could.

Without another word, he grabbed hold of her gloved hands and pulled her up. Her legs were wobbly as a newborn foal’s and she could do nothing but stand there while he undressed her.

There was nothing sensual or seductive about this situation. She knew that. But her heart still hammered as he removed first one glove, then the other. Her throat still dried when he removed her ruined bonnet and tossed it carelessly to the side. Her stomach still clenched when he reached out to untie her cloak then hurried to work the buttons of her thick pelisse. He cursed more than once and she could only imagine that his own frozen fingers struggled with the tiny buttons of her coat.

She tried to tell him not to worry about it but with one final blackened oath, he merely grabbed hold of the material and yanked it until it ripped, buttons flying asunder.

“Sorry, Damsel,” he said with a smile that looked more like a grimace, “but we need to get this off you.”

“Y-you owe m-me a n-n-new one,” she managed to stammer and he huffed a laugh in response but she caught that relief again in his eyes.

“I’ll buy you a wardrobe full of them, I promise. Just let me keep you alive long enough to do it.”

He finally got the sodden garment off her, one arm at a time. They’d gotten so soaked that even her dress was soaked and the material clung to her skin.

His eyes dropped, just once, before he swallowed hard and met her gaze again. “I need to turn you around,” he said, his voice growing gruffer. “I need to remove the gown.”

Calista’s heart pounded so hard she wondered if it would pop from her chest. “Oh,” was all she managed.

The wind screamed outside, threatening to smash through the door and windows. The fire roared and crackled in the hearth that had been mercifully filled with wood and kindling. But that soft ‘oh’ clanged through the room.

The tension grew unbearable, even through the pain and cold.

“Usually when I remove a lady’s dress, it’s under much more pleasurable circumstances, but needs must.”

It was a wildly flirtatious thing to say but somehow, even that outrageous statement didn’t break the pressure, though Calista had enough wits about her to roll her eyes before wordlessly turning her back.

Her hair had long since tumbled from its pins and was a sodden mass against her back. She reached over to gather the strands, pulling them over one shoulder.

Wicked as it was, Calista had to admit to herself that she’d thought and dreamt of a moment when Ezra’s hands would be on her. When she would feel the brush of his fingers against her naked skin. Not once in those fantasies had she been too cold to enjoy it.

Though even with the troubling circumstances, she couldn’t deny that when he stroked the skin of her neck, just once, before moving his hands to the laces of her gown, the shiver that wracked her body wasn’t just from the cold.

He spoke not a word as he made light work of unlacing the dress. Made not a sound as the fabric dropped to pool at her feet.

His hands, still icy cold, gripped her shoulders as he turned her back around but when she looked up at him, he was studiously avoiding her eyes. Hurrying to a large chest beside a simple cot by the wall, he removed a thick blanket, big enough to swamp her, and came back, throwing it over her shoulders then pushing her gently back into the chair.

She stared at the top of his head, his hair raven black, as he knelt on one knee and began to remove her boots.

Calista couldn’t contain her whimper of pain once they were gone, and she saw his jaw clench at the sound but before she could say anything, his hands were on the move. This time, the gasp had nothing to do with pain, as he dipped beneath the blanket and grabbed hold of the top of her stocking. His moves seemed deliberately clinical, as he made swift work of removing the first, then the second, but then she saw his white-knuckled grip on the ruined material.

Whatever this desire was that was causing chaos inside her, it was affecting him, too. And if she wasn’t afraid that she was about to freeze to death, she’d probably be quite pleased about that.

He cleared his throat once, twice, before standing up and busying himself with collecting her wet things. Her chemise and stays were damp too, but he made no offer to remove them and she certainly wasn’t going to bring it up.

The silence remained, taut and unbroken by either of them, while he dragged the chest over to be closer to the fire and then proceeded to lay out her things as best he could. Once that was done, he grabbed hold of his basket from the cook and placed it on top of the chest, between her chair and his.

Still, he did not look at her. Still, he did not speak.

He dug around inside the basket before removing a flask and two cups. As soon as the flask opened, the smell of warm cider permeated the room and Calista could have wept with the relief of having something to warm her insides. Indeed, a tiny groan escaped and she watched his lips quirk as he poured them both a cup. “You think that’s good,” he drawled, that huskiness still coloring his tone. “Wait for this.”

Reaching into the pocket of his jacket, he pulled out another, smaller flask and proceeded to pour a heft dose of what she assumed was brandy into both cups.

“You might not enjoy the taste,” he warned as he pressed a cup into her trembling hands. “But it will do the job of warming you up like nothing else.”

The heat from the cup bit into her palms, stinging her, but she didn’t care. It was warm and that was all she wanted.

Taking a tentative sip, Calista coughed and spluttered at the burn of the brandy coupled with the cider. That, at least, drew his gaze and he laughed at her, even while his shivers continued through his body.

“It’s d-disgusting,” she complained.

“Perhaps,” he conceded, taking a hearty gulp of his concoction. “But it does the job, so drink it all.”

She dutifully did as she was told, drinking quietly until her cup was empty. By the time she was finished, her head was pleasantly fuzzy and she could admit that she did feel ever so slightly warmer.

It was only then that she noticed something. Something that had her screeching at him. “Ezra!”

He leaped up at once, almost throwing the chest out of the way to get to her.

“What is it?” he asked, dropping to his haunches once more. “Are you ill?”

“You’re still in your clothes,” she gasped. “You must get out of them, quickly.”

He gaped at her before muttering yet another curse word. “Are you mad, woman?” he demanded. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Scare you?” she answered. “You’ll die, you dolt. Get out of them at once.”

His answering smirk was positively wolfish and he winked at her, winked as though they weren’t in mortal danger before slowly rising to his feet.

“All right, Damsel,” he said smoothly. “Don’t upset yourself.” He opened the chest, careful not to drop any of her drying clothes, and pulled out a heap of more blankets, throwing another on top of her before sauntering toward the cot.

“You know, in all the many, many, many times a woman has wanted me naked, I don’t think she’s ever insulted me while asking. This is a first.”

Calista scoffed even as her stomach clenched at the words. “I see the cold has done nothing to diminish your giant ego,” she said, trying valiantly to keep her tone even. But her ears were trained on the sounds of him undressing, each thud as a boot hit the floor, each scrap of material against skin. It was torturous not to look but she would never give him the satisfaction of peeking.

It seemed like eons before he reappeared to hang his clothes over his chair. Calista watched from her peripheral. She couldn’t see any of him, draped as he was in the blankets but even knowing that they were both in such a state of dishabille was enough to have her on the brink of insanity.

“Y-you don’t want to sit?” she asked when he’d covered his chair.

“I want to get you fed and under more covers,” he answered gruffly.

Calista watched as he once again rummaged through Cook’s basket, pulling out all sorts of things. She’d laughed earlier and told him he’d packed enough to feed a small army. Now, she wanted to kiss his feet for saving them from starvation. The wind and snow hadn’t let up once. Indeed the sky was so dark that it might as well be nighttime, and if it wasn’t for the light from the fire, they’d no doubt struggle to see. There was one lantern in the cabin but Ezra wanted to save the candle for the small water closet attached to the main part of the cottage.

The guilt that had overwhelmed her when they’d been trapped outside came back in force. It would be days at least before they’d be able to leave this place if the storm outside was anything to go by.

Marianne would be worried sick. David too. Ezra could fall ill because of her and even now, rather than worry about himself, he was making sure that she was taken care of.

He hadn’t wanted to come out here. He was here because of her.

“Ezra.” He stopped midway through unwrapping a loaf of bread to look at her.

“I – I’m sorry,” she started, horrified when tears sprung to her eyes. Try as she might, she could not stop them from falling. “Th-this is all my fault. I’m so, so sorry.”

He was there in an instant, pulling her from her chair and pulling her against his body with one arm. The other was clasping the blanket around his chest and for one, vastly inappropriate moment, she wished that he’d let it go.

“Shh,” he whispered against the top of her head. “Don’t do that, Damsel. Don’t take on this guilt. You’ve saved me days of unwanted dinner parties and listening to that odious Mrs. Faust talk about her Christmas processional.”

Calista managed to hiccup a laugh, trying not to be too distracted by the feel of his arm wrapped around her, stroking her back in a soothing rhythm. Or the feel of his solid chest beneath the scratchy blanket.

“Besides,” he continued. “You’ve given me the chance to act the hero, after all. All I need now is my white armor and the entire thing is complete.”

She could only laugh again. He was too wonderful for words.

“Thank you,” she whispered and earned herself another kiss. “How will I ever thank you?”

He paused a moment and then set her world upside down with her answer.

“By getting on the bed.”