“Let’s be off, then.”
They’d taken the wagon this morning since Niall needed to pick up supplies at Dalcross. That meant she got to share the driver’s bench with him, which really meant that she’d be able to sidle up against him, since the wind had picked up.
“I hope ye willna be too cold.” Niall spread a wool blanket over her lap. “’Tis nae much of a cover like the carriage would have been.”
“The carriage would not have held the lumber you need. You didn’t know you would be taking me along today, either.”
He smiled. “’Tis a nice surprise. I’m nae complaining.”
“Then…” She strove to keep a serious tone in her voice, just to tease him a bit. “…you won’t mind if I snuggle up to keep warm?”
He blinked and then the smile widened into a grin. “Ye can snuggle as close as ye wish, lass.” To emphasize his point, he put an arm around her shoulders and drew her close. “How’s this?”
Thiswas very nice. Charlotte tucked the blanket tighter over her legs and burrowed into the warmth of his embrace. She placed her arm around his waist, feeling the taut muscles go tighter. She was tempted to let her hand slip down a bit, but restrained herself. They were hardly out of town and it wasn’t like they could just pull off the road for a bit of sport. Besides which—and maybe the eighteenth century was having an effect on her after all—she didn’t want to throw herself at him, like Fiona had done. She gave herself an inward shake. She didn’t want to think about Fiona, either. Especially not when she had the entire day to spend with Niall.
“I think I’ll stay just like this the whole time.” She frowned slightly. “That is, if you can drive with just one hand.”
His hand tightened on her shoulder. “I’ll manage, lass.”
“Good.” She burrowed closer and sniffed his welcoming scent. “You smell good.” The words were out before she thought about it. Feeling him tense, she wondered if she might have sounded too provocative. This was really not the time. “Besides, you’re warm,” she added practically, hoping to ease the sudden tension. “I think it’s getting colder.”
“Aye.” Niall squinted at the sky. “Most likely another storm brewing over the Forth.”
Charlotte looked up too. The clouds were definitely thicker and darker. “Do you think we’ll have another blizzard?” She wouldn’t mind being stuck at an inn in Dalcross with Niall overnight, although she didn’t voice that thought.
“I doona ken. Hopefully we’ll get home in time.”
Well. That put the pin in her balloon. Niall didn’t want to spend the night with her? Maybe she had misinterpreted his defense of her when he’d bowled Simon over in the yard? Maybe he was only being chivalrous, after all? Maybe he really did like Fiona? She straightened.
“I think I’m warm enough now.”
Niall gave her an odd look. “Are ye sure?”
“Yes. I’m fine.”
He hesitated, searching her face, then slowly withdrew his arm and took the reins in both hands. “Tell me if ye get cold again.”
“I will.” She wouldnot.
Niall gave her another odd look, then clicked the reins on the horse’s back to urge it to a trot once they’d reached a smooth part of the road which wasn’t rutted in mud. It just proved that he was eager to get business done and be on the way home.
The air grew much colder and Charlotte tried not to shiver. By the time they reached Dalcross, she was beginning to regret her determination not to embrace Niall’s warmth once more.
He stopped in front of the inn. “A cup of hot cider will help ye thaw out,” he said, as he helped her down from the bench. “Ye might get a bite, as well. I’ll collect the things I need and come back to pick ye up in about an hour.”
Cider did sound good—maybe she’d spike it with a bit of whisky—but the irony of walking into the inn with Niall for food—and not a room—made the all-too-familiar and frequent hysterical bubble rise. She squelched it. Obviously, she’d spent too much time writing historical romance novels. This was reality. Food. Beverage. Not bedding her hero.
“Don’t leave without me.” She’d meant that as a joke, but it came out sounding rather pathetic.
“Doona fash.” He squeezed her elbow and let go. “I’ll be back.”
The writer in her wanted to find a reassuring double entendre in that, but it had only been a statement. She really needed to remember where she was.
An hour later, warmed by both soup and cider—the innkeeper had put a dram of whisky in it—the air didn’t feel as cold when she stepped outside.
“It feels like it’s a bit warmer. I guess that means no blizzard.”
Niall didn’t answer right away. Instead, he searched the skies, then lifted head and sniffed much like a pointer dog would. “Snow’s in the air.”
