Cole wanted to tell him to leave, to search elsewhere, and leave Katherine alone. He didn’t know why he was looking for her, but he didn’t care for the man’s attitude.
Cole knew Katherine had secrets. He’d noticed several things that didn’t make sense. While she answered to “Katherine” readily enough, she rarely answered the first time to “Miss Flitchard.” And he wondered if her spectacles were an attempt to disguise her appearance, as she often forgot them.
But none of that mattered. He liked her. If he hadn’t been so busy trying to keep his distance, perhaps he’d have discovered more about her.
“Happy Christmas,” Cole called as the man turned and strode away.
He didn’t answer.
Cole strode toward the waiting carriage, acting on instinct. “Did Miss Flitchard ask to be driven back to the house?”
“No,” the waiting footman said. “We haven’t seen her, my lord.”
Snowflakes drifted down, large and fluffy, the clouds finally releasing their heavy burden. Katherine was out in this deteriorating weather that appeared to be settling in for the remainder of the day.
He had to find her quickly, but where to begin the search?
DANCING UNDER THE MISTLETOE
CHAPTER SEVEN
Katherine was chilled to the bone. She shivered with each step, keeping her pace brisk with the hope of quickly reaching her destination as well as staying warm. But it wasn’t working.
How ironic that the snow she’d wished for had arrived at the worst possible time. She wasn’t certain of the whereabouts of the quaint little cottage she’d first seen on her outing with Cole. It was the only place she could think of to hide, as it was off the road and would provide shelter.
When Markus had blocked her path to the carriage, she’d panicked, terrified he’d follow her to Grace’s. She couldn’t allow the unpleasantness of her past to sully their first Christmas. But she hadn’t planned on the snow. Or the cold.
He hadn’t followed her out of the village, so she assumed he hadn’t seen her. Unwilling to risk being caught, she’d decided the cottage was her best option. She clutched her cloak tighter, yet still the cold flakes found their way inside. Cole had said it didn’t snow often. Surely that meant it would soon stop.
The field was already coated in white. Her boots weren’t meant for tramping through field or snow, let alone both. Her toes had gone numb and her fingers nearly were as well.
With determination, she pushed back the panic to think. She turned to look back toward the village. At this point, she was certain the closest shelter was the cottage. The practical thing to do was continue toward it.
The snow limited her vision when the wind picked up. She could only hope she was moving in the right direction. Some of the landmarks here looked familiar, such as that fallen tree. She hurried faster, hoping she was right.
Relief swept through her at the welcome sight of the cottage. Within a few short minutes, she reached for the latch, hoping it wasn’t locked. For once, luck was on her side.
She closed the door behind her, pleased to be out of the blowing snow. Her eyes adjusted slowly to the dim interior. The pleasant fragrance of herbs filled the air, easing the musty smell of disuse.
Rubbing her arms, she walked through the two small rooms. A table and chairs and shelves were in one corner, making up the kitchen. Two oversized, tufted chairs sat before the empty fireplace. The other, smaller room contained a narrow bed, nightstand, and bureau.
The place might look cozy, but it was freezing. A woodbin stood empty beside the fireplace, but building a fire would only signal to someone that she was here. The idea of being discovered by Markus sent waves of fear coursing through her.
She didn’t need a fire. Though as she trembled yet again, she couldn’t help but worry. A few hours in the cold would do her no harm, she assured herself. The snow would soon stop, darkness would fall, and she could walk to Crawford House. And pray that Markus had given up and left the area.
She peeked out a dusty window, only to see the snow still falling. Her breath frosted the glass pane, dimming her view.
With a sigh, she pulled the only blanket, coarse and dusty, off the bed. She sought a chair before the empty fire, shivering and tired. So tired. Tired of running and lying and keeping her distance from everyone she met.
Tears filled her eyes, and for once, she let them fall.
~*~
Cole turned his face from the blinding snow, praying he was doing the right thing. When he’d returned to Crawford House to find that Katherine had not returned, he’d been terrified. The storm’s fierceness had taken them all by surprise. It rarely snowed this hard in Northamptonshire.
Cole, Adair, the other male guests, and many of the servants had ventured out to search for her between Crawford House and the village, but to no avail. Cole had told Adair he had an idea of where she might be, since they hadn’t found any sign of her along the road.
Adair had offered to accompany him, but Cole opted to go alone. If he was wrong, they’d need to launch another search. Adair and the others could rest and warm themselves while he checked the cottage.
His horse didn’t seem to appreciate the blinding snow any more than he did, but its steady pace despite the conditions was much appreciated. The cottage should be just ahead. The snow was disorienting, even for him, and he knew where he was going. The chance of Katherine finding it seemed slim.
Relief filled him when the small building came into view. But no smoke billowed out of the chimney.
Damn.
He paused, wondering where else he could search. Then he remembered how much of a city person Katherine was. Would she know where to find wood or kindling? To his recollection, the cottage wasn’t stocked with much of anything. He needed to rectify that in case someone sought shelter there in the future.
With a press of his knees, he urged his steed toward the cottage, deciding to check inside, since he was this close.
He left his horse loosely tied in the small overhang attached to the building, where it would be sheltered from most of the weather. After a quick knock on the door, he pushed it open. “Hello?”
A glance about showed nothing disturbed since the last time he’d been there. Disappointment laced with a healthy dose of fear poured through him. If she wasn’t here, he had no idea where she might be.
“C-C-Cole?” His stuttered name was barely audible above the roar of the wind.
“Katherine?” He hadn’t seen her tucked in the chair in the dark shadows by the empty fireplace. “Are you well?”
“J-just c-cold.”
He shut the door and hurried forward, alarmed at how pale she was now that his eyes had adjusted to the dim light. It was freezing in the cottage, yet she didn’t even shiver. He knew from experience that wasn’t a good thing.
“Let us warm you, shall we?” Her movements were stiff from the cold, and he didn’t care for that. “I’ll start a fire.”
“No.”
“Why?”
“I-I don’t want him to f-find me.”
He knelt before her, grasping her gloved hands in his. “No one will find us in this storm. You’re safe now. I’ll protect you.”
When at last she nodded, he glanced at the empty woodbin. “I’ll be back directly.”
She nodded, her worried gaze following him out the door.
He found dry wood stacked under the overhang where he’d left his horse. In short order, he had a fire lit and slowly added more wood as the flames grew.
“Who is he?” Cole meant what he’d told her. He’d protect her. He berated himself for keeping his distance this past week. If he would’ve engaged with her, gotten to know her better, perhaps all this could’ve been avoided. He’d hadn’t pressed her to tell him her secrets, as he had no desire to share his own.
She gave a trembling sigh but said nothing.
None of that mattered right now. He pulled her chair closer to the fire then removed her gloves so he could rub her hands. S
he gave no reaction to his movements. That was so unlike her. “Katherine?”
She only closed her eyes. Whether she didn’t intend to tell him anything or was too cold, he didn’t know.
Holding back his frustration, he reminded himself that she had no reason to trust him. Despite their kisses, he hadn’t made much of an effort to befriend her.
Before worrying about any of that, he needed to warm her. He didn’t know how long she’d been out in the cold. Frostbite could be setting in.
He drew her to her feet and removed her cloak as the fire burned brightly. “Forgive me for the impropriety of this, but we must warm you.”
After removing his coat and hanging it on the other chair to dry, he sat and pulled her into his lap. With careful movements, he covered them with the blanket and her cloak. He wrapped his arms around her, hoping his body heat would help.
Katherine stared into the flames numbly. Within a few minutes, she started to shiver. He took that as a good sign and rubbed her arms.
“He’s my husband’s b-brother.”
The whispered words stopped him. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the idea that Katherine was married. Disappointment crashed through him. She belonged to another. His thoughts flew to those two kisses. “You’re married?”
“W-was. He passed away three years ago.”
He wasn’t proud of the relief that filled him but was grateful for the news all the same.
“What does he want?”
“To ruin whatever meager life I’ve pieced together.”
Cole considered her words, reconciling them to his brief conversation with the man. “Why?”
“He blames me for Walter’s death.” Her head tipped down, hiding her expression.
Each piece of information she shared only raised more questions. None of this made sense. He wanted to demand she explain, but when she remained silent, he reminded himself to be patient.
What was important was that she was warm and comfortable. Then they could return to Crawford House. Perhaps he could enlist Grace’s help to convince Katherine to talk. He glanced around, noting the pot hanging near the fire, and decided to find something with which to make a hot drink. That would help.
“I’ll see if there’s tea. If not, hot water might be the best I can manage.” He slid her to the side and rose, tucking the makeshift blankets around her.
Within a short time, he’d fetched water from the well in back and had it steaming in the rinsed-out kettle. A search of the kitchen unveiled a tin of tea and cups.
She roused when he handed her the steaming cup, and her gaze finally met his. “Thank you, Cole.”
He didn’t care for what he saw in her eyes.
Defeat.
He recognized it, for he’d seen it several times in his own mirror. When the will to press on--to continue living--fell away.
“Katherine, I realize you don’t know me, but I would help if I could.” Her expression remained unchanged as she looked at him. He didn’t think he was getting through to her. “I met him. He has a pocket watch with your picture in it.”
Her eyes widened. “What did he say?”
“Only that he was searching for you.” He moved her so once again, she sat on his lap. “I can’t say that I cared for him.”
She almost smiled at that. “Markus is very...determined. He loved his brother dearly and never cared for me.” She turned to face him. “My name is Katherine Flemming. I don’t wear glasses. And I’m a widow.”
The way the words quickly tumbled out made him realize how much it had bothered her to lie.
She blinked back tears. “I’m tired of running and hiding. Why can’t he understand that I’m sorry Walter died? I loved him too.”
“What happened?”
“He fell ill with headaches and nausea. I wanted him to go to the doctor, but he insisted the apothecary knew more. Markus thinks I poisoned him.” She looked at Cole again, her eyes pleading with him to understand. “I didn’t. I never would’ve done something like that.”
“I know.” The sincerity in her expression and voice couldn’t be denied. He believed her. It was that simple.
Regret and doubt flickered in those deep brown eyes.
“I-I should’ve done more. I should’ve made him see the doctor. I should’ve realized how ill he was. That the medicine was only making it worse.”
“He was a grown man. How could you know his mind?”
Katherine only shook her head, obviously unable to forgive herself for what she hadn’t done.
He knew that feeling as well. The same was true for him, as he had yet to forgive himself for the same reason.
When Katherine’s tears fell, Cole took the cup from her hands to set it on the floor and pulled her tight into his embrace. “You’re not to blame.”
His whispered words only made her cry harder. Sobs shook her body. All he could think to do was hold her, whispering reassuring words that seemed to fall on deaf ears.
At last her tears subsided, and she drew a trembling breath. “I’m s-sorry.”
“No apology is necessary. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal these past few years.” He closed his eyes for a moment as he realized that was another experience they had in common. “You’re entitled to tears.”
“I’ve told him how sorry I am. That he can keep the money. But he doesn’t care. When the police investigated and cleared me of any wrongdoing, it made no difference to him.” She rested her head on his shoulder, snuggled into him in a way that made him ache and think of things that had no place here. “I left. I changed my name and took a position as a companion. But he found me and told the lady I worked for that I’d killed my husband and was hiding from the law. She dismissed me. I have changed names and positions more times than I can count.”
“The last one being at the dressmaker’s shop as Miss Flitchard.”
“Yes. Where I met Grace. She’s the first friend I’ve had in a long while.”
Katherine might’ve been surrounded by people in the city, but it sounded as if she was as lonely as he. The notion had him tightening his arms around her. “I hope you consider me a friend as well.”
He sensed her smile rather than saw it.
“I do, and I treasure it.” She moved again, her forehead resting against his jaw.
The skin-to-skin contact made him heat from the inside out. Desire followed quickly on its heels, and his attention shifted to the feel of the woman in his arms. The sensations made him long for things that couldn’t be, that he couldn’t risk.
Despite that, his protective instincts flared to life. “I would help you with this, if you’d allow it. I can speak with him on your behalf.”
“No.” She sat up, eyes wide with alarm. “That will only make him more determined. Besides, I don’t want him to know where I am. I would be horrified if he arrived at Crawford House. It would ruin Grace and Adair’s Christmas, not to mention their guests’.”
“Katherine--”
She placed a finger on his lips. “Thank you, but no. I’ll decide on a course of action, but I need more time. I didn’t think he’d find me so quickly.”
He eased back and kissed her finger. “I hope you’ll reconsider. My offer stands if you change your mind.” He trailed a finger along her cheek. “You deserve to be happy, Katherine. But in order to do so, you might have to confront your past.”
She tilted her head toward his caress. “I tried, but it did no good.” She placed a hand on his to press it firmly to her cheek then closed her eyes as though enjoying his touch.
Temptation took hold, and he pressed his lips to hers. She startled, drawing back to look at him.
“Cole.” The whispered name was filled with a myriad of emotions he couldn’t identify, except one--longing.
That was all the invitation he needed. He captured her lips once more, the sweet taste of her heady, like fine brandy, and filling him with need. His tongue danced with hers as her hand framed his face then shifted to tease the back
of his neck.
Passion rose quickly, effortlessly. Whether it was the coziness of the cottage, or the response of the woman in his arms, he couldn’t say, but he ached for her so badly that he could hardly breathe.
He tamped down his desire, telling himself the kisses were enough. But he wanted more. Katherine had seeped into him, slipping past his defenses. The idea of her leaving in a week was unbearable. Especially since she intended to disappear into a new identity.
He might have found her this time, but something told him he wouldn’t the next.
The idea of that scared the hell out of him.
DANCING UNDER THE MISTLETOE
CHAPTER EIGHT
Katherine felt the intensity of Cole’s kiss change. Deepen. The idea that this handsome man desired her was as intoxicating as the feel of him pressed close to her.
While she had no idea what her future might hold, she knew one thing--she wanted Cole. Here, now. If the past few years had taught her anything, it was to grab the few fleeting moments of happiness that crossed her path. They so rarely did.
But this--this was special. She recognized that undeniable fact with her heart and soul. Her feelings for this man had grown completely out of control while she’d been trying hard to ignore them.
It didn’t escape her notice that he’d ridden all the way from Crawford House in the middle of a snowstorm to rescue her. How long had it been since anyone had cared enough to go to such measures for her?
Then he’d reassured her, built a fire, and made her tea. He was an honorable man, and she was better for having known him.
But as passion burned brighter between them, she knew it was all that and much more. She ran her fingers along the soft hair at the nape of his neck, gasping as he eased away only to press kisses along her neck.
“Oh, Cole,” she muttered and tipped back her head, exposing her neck.
Their makeshift blankets slipped down, but Katherine was thoroughly heated now. Her fingers fumbled along his suit coat, undoing the buttons followed by the ones on his vest. She ran her hands along his linen shirt, loving the strength of his muscled form, from the cords of his broad shoulders to his chest then down along his ribs.
Under The Kissing Bough: 15 Romantic Holiday Novellas Page 113