“Lily,” Archie said, stepping between her and the door. “You can’t go out there.”
“Philip is out there.” She wrapped a thick scarf around her neck and pulled a bonnet over her head. “And I’m going to bring my husband back.”
With those words, she pushed the door open and charged into the snow.
Chapter 18
Philipcursed,firstunderhis breath and then out loud, as he slowed his horse even further. When he’d set out for Oxford in the early morning, the snowfall had painted the trees and trails like icing on a Christmas pudding, and the wind merely nipped at the exposed skin of his cheeks. The entire trip to Fleming’s Confectionery had taken less than three quarters of an hour, and the visit with the man himself made up the last quarter.
He’d hoped to be back at Boar’s Hill before Lily woke up, but a glance at his pocket watch revealed he’d been traveling for nearly two hours now, the road becoming unrecognizable. The snow that had transformed their Christmas into a fairy land had turned on him, no longer magical but murderous. He wouldn’t allow himself to fall into worry and fear, even as the emotions tugged at his ribs. Remaining calm was of the essence, as the cold had intensified and his fingertips and toes had long since numbed beyond sensation.
Lily is waiting, he reminded himself again and again.Lily beside the fire, Lily in my bed.
Lily, for the rest of my life.
Far stronger forces than a storm had kept him from his wife before, and he’d successfully battled those. Surely a minor squall wouldn’t keep them apart.
But the winds had become sharper, the snow heavy enough on the ground to bring his horse’s canter down to a trot, then a slow plod. Ice had frozen into his beard and lashes, but he did not dare to risk wiping it away, certain his hand would be unable to grip the reins again if he let go.
A sick laugh climbed up from his gut. After all that he’d done to return to Lily’s side, this would be the end for him? Trapped with a valise full of candied ginger and frozen to his horse.
Surely he should be at Boar’s Hill by now. The tree-lined road leading from Oxford was barely recognizable, and the wind whipping snow into his eyes obscured the towering fir trees that marked the path. Was he wandering in circles? Had he passed the house entirely and was wandering in the endless fields beyond the property?
Lily is going to be furious with me. He hadn’t even left her a note, thinking he’d return well before she noticed his absence. She must be in a panic by now, terrified he’d abandoned her—
No. She knew he’d come back for her.
With that thought, he straightened in the saddle, though his aching body begged him to slouch, to fall from his mount and succumb to the exhaustion pulling at him.I won’t leave her again, he repeated over and over, even as darkness swam at the edges of his vision.
Had he stopped moving entirely? Christ, he had, the horse as exhausted as he was, and Philip slid from the saddle, collapsing at the animal’s side.
The snow wasn’t cold anymore, simply soft. Perhaps if he rested for a moment, he’d be able to think more clearly. He could close his eyes, dream of his wife’s voice…
“Philip!”
He chuckled, the sound rattling like ice in his rib cage. Had his imagination grown so powerful he could actually hear her voice between the bellows of the wind?
“Philip! Where are you?”
There it was again, louder this time. He groaned and rolled onto his side, facing the direction of the calls, at least where he believed they had come from. His mind was fuzzy, like the furled edges of a dream clung to his consciousness and refused to relent.
Another cry of his name,closerstill. But it couldn’t be Lily; his wife was far too shrewd to go into this storm to find him.
The thought had him pushing his numb hands beneath him, attempting to lift himself higher. “Lily?” he croaked, the wind immediately consuming his words. “Is that you?”
A figure was moving through the storm, dark and hooded, and he let out a low moan. Death was coming for him, it seemed, and the irony was as thick as the snow on the ground. After all the times he’d evaded his demise, had crawled out from the ravages of the opium,nowwould be the moment he’d lose his battle?
He fell back against the icy powder and realized the burning on his cheeks was from his tears, the heat scalding his frozen skin. “I’mso sorry, Lily.” Had he said the words aloud or merely thought them? His throat ached as the frigid air reached in to steal his breath. “I love you. I’m so sorry to leave you like this.”
His eyes fluttered as the figure grew closer, the edges of Death’s midnight cloak growing sharper. He didn’t want to see the moment he was taken—
“Philip!” The figure fell at his side and grabbed his shoulders, shaking him, and he fought to look directly at it, to listen to the words that sounded so much like his wife speaking…
“Don’t you dare close your eyes,” she barked, and his lids bolted open. The cloak shadowed her features, but her hazel eyes blazed, a fiery warmth in the frigid storm. “You will not leave me, not now.”
“What are you doing out here?” He tried to lift his hand to cup her face, but the blasted appendage wouldn’t cooperate. “It’s dangerous.”
She grunted as she tugged at him, pulling him to sitting. “I could say the same of you. We need to get you inside.”
