Roses in Winter
A Tale of Beauty and Her Beast
Penelope Daniels
Copyright © 2020 Penelope Daniels
All rights reserved
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.
Synopsis
After a decade of seclusion, Edward Blackmore is used to being alone—in fact he has come to depend on it. With a curse over his head and a face full of scars, he can't risk being discovered by the outside world. When a winter snowstorm brings a desperate woman to his gates, letting her stay is the last thing he needs. But the longer she is with him, the more he realizes he no longer wants to be alone.
Alina Dameron has spent the last six years of her life married to a man who abuses her. In an act of desperation, she flees during a snowstorm and wakes up in a strange manor house whose only inhabitants are a mysterious man who won't show his face and a curious house spirit that takes the shape of fabric. Trapped because of the storm, Alina has no choice but to stay with this stranger who sometimes seems more beast than man. But behind his temper and his secrets there is a sadness that she doesn't understand.
A woman in need of safety and a man in need of redemption just may find peace in each other's arms. But Alina's husband hasn't forgotten about his wife and with help of the villagers and the local priest, he intends on getting her back and showing her who she really belongs to. Edward and Alina must come to trust each other before it is too late.
Author's note: This book contains descriptive adult scenes. It is also implied that the heroine has suffered domestic abuse in her past which may be triggering to some readers. This is a standalone story with no cliffhangers and a happily ever after.
Contents
Title Page
Copyright
Synopsis
Dedication
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Thank You
About the Author
For Mike
Chapter One
Alina Dameron changed into her warmest dress. Her hands were cold and her fingers fumbled with the laces of her stays. Finally she surrendered and left them undone, knowing that the fabric would only hurt the fresh bruises on her back anyway. She moved to her shoes, passing over the impractical slippers her husband so liked for her to wear. Instead, she took her boots from the shelf and pulled them on, lacing them tight and trying not to worry about the poor condition of the leather. They tended to leak, letting water soak through to her stockings. There were already a few inches of snow on the ground outside with more on the way. Cold feet would be the first thing that might make her turn back.
There was a sound just outside her room and Alina halted, not daring to move so she could listen. Rodderick had gone out for a piss and a pint half an hour before. Her heart leapt into her throat at the possibility that he’d come back for something he’d forgotten. If he found her like this, her intentions obvious by her dress, no amount of pleading would stay his rod. And the next time he struck her, there was no telling how far he would go. Fear took her and she was unable to move.
When the sound didn’t repeat, Alina tried to swallow the lump in her throat and reached for her long woolen cape, pulling in around herself and throwing up the hood to cover her prominent pale blonde hair. In the darkness of night, she doubted anyone would notice it, but if they did, she would be easy to identify when Rodderick came looking for her.
She grabbed the little pouch of bread and cheese she had packed from the kitchen earlier and slung it over her shoulder. Free hands would make the journey easier.
Her father had kept maps of the area and though Alina had never left her little village, she knew that Lothersford lay on the other side of the mountain. Even if her father couldn’t afford to take her in again, there would surely be work for a young woman. She’d scrub floors and dishes and anything else to pay her way. Well, almost anything else. She’d not sell herself and she prayed that no one would see her traveling alone and take advantage.
Fear had made a comfortable home in the back of her mind since she had married Rodderick. Fear of leaving him and fear of staying with him. His rage earlier in the evening had finally tipped the scales enough that Alina realized no matter how terrified she was, she needed to go.
Before the anxiety overtook her, Alina turned down the lanterns and slipped out the back door. The moon was nearing full, but its light was obscured by thin clouds that covered the whole sky, masking any stars that might guide her on her way.
She slipped behind the house and around to the stables, opening the door slowly so it wouldn’t creak and alert the house. Walking down the row of horses, Alina passed the blue roan mare and the piebald pony. Gladstone, her husband’s prize racing horse, was in his stall at the end of the row, munching on oats and straw. He gave no reaction when he saw her, familiar to the sight of Alina. She quietly unlatched the gate and entered his stall where the great horse began nuzzling into her dress, looking for the apples or sugar cubes she usually brought.
“Nothing tonight,” she said, raising her hand to run her fingers against his black coat and pat his neck. “You and I are going on a trip.”
Alina was too short to saddle the great beast, having selected him for his height as well as stamina. The snow would be higher on the mountain and the stallion’s long legs meant he had a better chance than any of the other horses. And besides, Gladstone was a loyal, well-tempered beast and he’d make a good traveling companion.
After tying the rope to his halter, she led the horse past the mounting block and out of the stables. She would guide him slowly through the trees until she hit one of the roads that crossed the mountain and she’d figure out how to mount him then.
They walked up the short hill toward the treeline. Looking back on the village, Alina could see the lights from the hall and hear the faint sounds of music and laughter. Rodderick was in there and hopefully the allure of the dancing girls and drink would keep him long enough to give her a head start.
It began snowing lightly. Though Alina knew the cold would soon seep into her bones, she was grateful for the flakes as they fell on her footprints. Traveling in a storm was the only chance she had of Rodderick losing her trail.
The forest was dark and ominous as Alina pushed past branches that clawed at her skirts and tried to find trees that looked familiar. If she crossed the small river where she gathered mushrooms in the spring, she’d know how far she’d gone, but the water was probably frozen over and under the blanket of white, nothing was recognizable. It didn’t really matter. She knew her direction and if she kept walking into the forest long enough, she’d come out the other side.
The further up the mountain she walked, the thicker the snows got until it passed her knees and it took a great amount of effort just to raise one foot in front of the other. More than once she fell, throwing her hands out to catch herself only to have them pass through the snow, the white powder filling her sleeves and falling down the neckline of her dress. She wished she’d owned gloves and there was no part of
dry cloth left on her skirts or cape that she could wrap around her frozen fingers. Gladstone stayed by her side and she was glad he wasn’t struggling through the snow. She’d need his strength to carry her once she found the road.
The snowfall turned into thick flakes and a breeze picked up until the flurries were drifting sideways and blowing into her face. At least there would be no wild animals out tonight.
She clutched one hand around her hood, closing it against the wind, keeping the other around Gladstone’s rope. The horse was beginning to protest and she quietly apologized for dragging the animal from its comfortable lodgings and into the storm.
Just when she was beginning to lose hope of ever finding a road, the trees thinned a little and they stepped onto a cleared path. It wasn’t exactly a road. Much of the lane was overgrown with sapling trees and bracken which looked more like lumpy mounds under the snow. In several places old trees or dead branches lay across the road and had not been cleared away.
Leading the horse over to one of the fallen trees, Alina climbed on top of it and, clasping Gladstone’s mane in her fingers, pulled herself onto his back. She was instantly grateful for the beast’s warmth beneath her while the horse, undoubtedly, did not welcome her cold, wet cape blanketed across his flanks.
“I’m sorry,” she said, her teeth chattering in the cold. “I’ll find you a whole bucket of oats when we get where we are going.”
Alina couldn’t feel her fingers or toes and the numbness was beginning to creep up her legs until they ached with a pain familiar to her from her childhood days of playing in the snow. She wanted a fire to warm them, but even if she stopped for the night, there was no dry wood and no place safe from the winds to build one.
A small pit began to form in her stomach. This had been a foolish plan. She’d been so desperate to leave Rodderick that she’d not considered that she might not make it over the mountain before exposure rendered her unable to walk or even speak. Last winter some of the village boys had gotten lost in the woods and by the time they had been found, frostbite had taken fingers and toes from each of them. The doctor had been forced to amputate. Alina shuddered at the thought and wondered if she turned back now, she could get back home before Rodderick did.
Steeling her mind, she looked forward on the path. The road still moved upward and the horse easily moved around the fallen trees. Alina gave him his lead and lay forward until her head was against his neck, trying to use her stiff arms to pull her cape around herself. The pain from the cold was a dull ache that overtook her whole body now and threatened to make her lose her supper. She felt dizzy and confused and closed her eyes, praying that Gladstone could take her somewhere warm.
It did no good to dream of fires and warm soup cooking over the hearth, but Alina let her mind dwell on the memories as if just by thinking about them she might make them appear. Or if nothing else, at least push out the grim realization that she was cold and wet, that the snow was falling harder than ever, and she was completely lost in the forest.
The horse suddenly halted beneath her. She managed to lift her head, thinking to see the path too overgrown for them to continue, but instead her eyes fell on a high stone wall broken only by wrought iron gates that crossed where the road passed through. She looked left, then right, hoping for a fork in the road that might lead them around the wall, but saw only snow blowing into high drifts as the wind whipped it through the trees.
It took several minutes before Alina could make herself dismount and the horse was still as it waited for her, no doubt hoping that beyond the gates he would find warmth and food. Slipping one leg over the horse’s back, Alina dropped to the ground, forgetting how numb her legs were. Her knees crumpled beneath her and she collapsed into the wet snow. Gladstone seemed concerned and took a step back, lowering his head to her and breathing out hot steam from his nostrils. He raised his head again, shaking off the snow that plastered his mane. She looked up at the animal as it towered over, unsure of what he was supposed to do with her lying in the snow.
Raising her head to look at the gates, Alina noticed a thick chain wrapped around the center where they joined. There would be no prying them open or climbing over—though it was not as if she was in any state to attempt either. She pulled herself along the ground until she could clasp her hand around one of the iron bars, pulling back when she felt the bite of the metal against her skin. She folded her frozen fingers beneath her cape. The rails were too close together to fit more than a hand through. Even if she had been able to slide between them, she never could have left Gladstone by himself. Not after the horse had already taken her so far.
A dim yellow light flickered ahead. It was so faint through the blizzard that she thought she might have imagined it. With stiff limbs, she raised her arm slightly, using her cloak to keep the snow out of her face. Where the light had appeared, Alina saw the faintest outline of a building, tall and grand enough to be enclosed by such an impressive set of gates. She couldn’t make out the details except that somewhere on the second floor, dim lantern light filled one of the windows.
“Help. Please,” Alina called out. Her voice sounded distant even to her own ears and she knew it didn’t carry through the muffling snow.
Alina slumped onto her side, clasping her frozen hands together and looking up into the trees. Their branches reached toward the gate like great, black hands stretching out to take hold of her. At least the blizzard had covered her tracks and if she froze here, Rodderick wouldn’t know where his little wife had gone.
He couldn’t touch her any longer and he never would again.
Chapter Two
Edward leaned over his cello, his fingers deftly moving across the fingerboard. It was a miserable night and he was attempting to outperform the weather with a song even more dreary than the blizzard raging outside. The wind howled through the trees in accompaniment and flecks of frozen ice tapped rhythm against the window panes.
Nearby, a silk scarf floated about the room, tidying up the tea, which had gone cold hours ago. It fluttered close to the fireplace and another log appeared above the flame and dropped onto the hearth.
Edward was used to the fabrics fluttering about the room and gave them no mind, keeping his eyes closed and focusing all his energy into the music. It wasn’t until the silk brushed against his face that he opened them and halted his playing. He turned to the cloth and watched it wrap itself around his arm and pull against him, tugging him out of his chair and across the room. The scarf unwound itself from his arm and drifted to the window, beckoning him to follow.
Glancing out into the thick snowfall, Edward was glad that thick curtains and a blazing fire in the hearth separated him from the storm. Winter was the only season that didn’t make him yearn for the outside world and he often found himself appreciating the bleak weather.
A handkerchief and shawl joined the scarf as it gestured to the gates below, pulling aside the curtains so Edward could get a better view. The lamplight in the room reflected on the glass and he turned to dim the light so he could see outside.
Squinting into the darkness, he noticed a shape. A large black silhouette against the snow, standing ominously outside the iron bars. A horse? There was no rider astride it and the beast didn’t appear to be moving, only standing there as if waiting for instruction. It was strange to be sure. He hadn’t seen a horse—feral or otherwise—near the estate in years and there was nothing to explain why one might be out in this blizzard. The mystery of it intrigued Edward and he turned from the window.
“I’ll see what is going on,” he said, turning to the scarf. He padded across the room to the fireside where his boots stood and pulled them onto his feet. Then, grabbing a lantern and gloves he headed for the door. As he exited, he turned down the hall and the wide entry staircase. The scarf and handkerchiefs settled across his shoulders and transformed into a thick coat and furs that would protect him from the weather outside.
With the lantern held out in front of him, Edward pushed open
one of the entry doors and emerged into the snow. Large, wet flakes swirled around him and he lowered his head against the wind.
When he reached the gates, Edward could now see that it was a horse. A great black beast with snow caked against its side to the wind as it stood there unmoving. He quickly unlocked the chains and pulled open the gate to let the horse in.
“Where is your rider?” he asked the animal, noticing the halter and rope about its muzzle. But the horse only shook snow from its mane. As Edward approached, the horse moved, walking forward and tossing its head. He put his arm out to steady it, and the horse only stepped sideways, stamping its front hooves a little for each step Edward took toward it.
He set down the lantern and held out both hands to the horse, raising them in surrender and moving slowly to not frighten the animal. It settled a little and let Edward approach until he could place a hand on his neck and speak soft, soothing words in an effort to calm it. The horse whinnied and shook its mane again sending a spray of snow into Edward’s face. It wasn’t until he had wiped his eyes clear that he noticed why the horse’s actions were so strange.
On the ground near the gate was a figure slumped in the snow and so covered by flakes that he would have missed it if not for the horse’s behavior. He quickly moved to the figure’s side and the horse moved forward a little too. It was obvious that the beast was nervous of Edward’s intentions.
Brushing the snow from the body, he could tell that it was small. A woman. She was dressed in worn leather boots which stuck out from a thick woolen cape. The cape was hooded and when Edward stooped to pull it back, the horse tossed its head again and whinnied.
“It’s alright,” Edward said, speaking softly to the animal. “I’ll not do her harm.”
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