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The snow was not deep, although it had drifted against the Park wall somewhat, so he struggled up the hill. He had forgotten how many brambles grew against the wall, so his coat was snagged every few paces. After a while, the clouds began to break up and moonshine showed him the outline of the track, and then the way was easier.
The hut lay in darkness, no chink of light emerging from between the shutters. As he drew near, he realised the futility of his journey, born of nothing but his own desire to be doing something —anything— rather than sitting around being eaten alive by terror. Julia could not be here, surely. It was too close to the village, so she could easily have made her way to safety. What a fool he was! She was probably snug in bed at the Wheatsheaf, and would laugh heartily to hear of his wasted journey.
He lifted the latch, went in and raised the lantern to look around.
She was there, stretched out on the sofa, fast asleep. The light roused her, and she stirred.
“Mmm? What is it?” She opened her eyes fully, saw him, pushed herself upright. “James?”
He was momentarily speechless, torn between overwhelming relief that left him weak, and indignation that she was here, fast asleep, as if nothing at all was amiss.
“What’s the matter?” she said. “What time is it? Have I missed dinner?”
“Missed dinner?”
She chuckled, stretching and rising slowly to her feet. “It must be late, for you’ve brought a lantern. Mama will flay me alive if I’ve kept everyone waiting.”
He could barely breathe. How could she make light of her situation, when her father and brother were scouring the countryside for her? When her life was all but despaired of? Had she truly no idea of what she had done?
“Kept everyone waiting?” he said, in a low rumble that was almost a growl, so that her eyes widened in surprise. “I should think you have, yes. Have you the slightest idea of the trouble you have caused? Your father has been looking everywhere for you.”
“Whatever for? He knows I never get lost. Is it very late? I’d better get home.”
The pitch of his anger frightened him. To give himself time to calm down a little, he busied himself lighting candles and throwing logs on the fire, until he felt he could answer her with a degree of composure.
“It is two in the morning, Julia.”
“What? Two o’clock? No! Surely not!”
“It has been snowing steadily since shortly after you disappeared and—”
“Disappeared! I went out for a walk, that’s all. For goodness sake, James, don’t be so hysterical. I was cold, I came here to warm up, I fell asleep. When I woke, it was snowing so I stayed here. I suppose I must have fallen asleep again. Is it really two in the morning?”
“Yes, it is, and your father has been frantic with worry for you. He thinks you are lost in the snow somewhere.”
“Well, that’s just stupid!” she cried. “As if I would ever get lost in the snow! Pa knows that perfectly well. What a lot of fuss over nothing!”
“You are the most selfish, troublesome creature alive.” He was so angry, he shook from head to toe. “You leave without a word to anyone, and here you are, completely unconcerned about the trouble you have caused. Your father is worried sick that you were caught in the snow, possibly freezing to death somewhere between here and Ware, and here you are, warm and snug and not the slightest bit apologetic about it.”
“Ware? What onearthwould I be doing going to Ware? Honestly, James, you must have windmills in your head tonight. And what are you doing wandering around in the middle of the night anyway?”
“Looking for you, idiot! Your father looked everywhere else.”
“Well, I’m very sorry if Pa was worried about me, but he should know me better than to imagine I’d be caught out in a snowstorm. For heaven’s sake, I’m from Yorkshire, I know all about snow! This is ridiculous. But if it’s two o’clock, there’s no point in worrying about dinner, is there?”
James boiled with impotent rage, grabbing her by the shoulders and giving her a little shake with every word. “Julia Fletcher, you are the most troublesome, annoying, frustrating, vexing, ungovernable, tiresome,maddeninggirl I ever knew!”
She gazed at him defiantly, her breathing heavy and her eyes — oh, her eyes! How they flashed at him. Fiery anger tore through him, beyond his ability to contain it. In that moment, he loved and hated her with equal force.
Without any conscious thought, his arms wrapped tightly around her, and he fastened his lips on hers with ferocious intensity, surrendering to the power of whatever emotion held him in its grip. It was a kiss like no other he had experienced, so passionate, so furious that every thought was swept from his mind and there was nothing but this primeval compulsion, although to what end, he could not tell.
Gradually, he became aware that he was meeting no resistance to this outpouring of rage, for she held herself quiescent in his arms, not quite returning his fervour, but accepting it without the slightest protest. And slowly, slowly, as her yielding warmth comforted him and his anger trickled into nothing, the kiss became something else, quieter and gentler, a thing of sweet tenderness between lovers.
Lovers? No, that was just his own ardent wish misleading him…
With a groan of despair, he released her and staggered back to collapse onto a chair, head in hands. There were no words, nothing at all he could say to her now.
For a long time he sat thus. When he dared to raise his head, she was sitting too, her hands composedly resting in her lap, her face calm. He could read nothing from her expression, not in this gloom of flickering candles and firelight.
