Page 51 of The Storybook Hero
She moved to settle herself just inside the small shelter. “Why, Mr. Leigh, you have no blanket of your own,” she realized.
“I shall manage.”
“Indeed, you will not! I insist you come share this one with me.”
She was happy to see the hurt in his eye was quickly replaced by the mischievous twinkle she had become accustomed to.“Now that is the most tempting offer I have had in quite some time. But I should not wish to cause you any discomfort.”
“Well, it would not be the first time we have ended up twined together—perhaps I am getting rather used to it.”
A strange expression flitted over his features as he slipped in beside her.
“Good night, Mr. Leigh,” she murmured.
He gave a soft chuckle. “You might at least call me Alex from now on, seeing we have come to be on such intimate terms.”
“Good night then … Alex.”
“Good night, Octavia.”
Twelve
Morning—it if could be called that—gave rise to no more than a gloomy half-light that barely penetrated the thick canopy of pine trees. It was hardly something to inspire a brighter outlook on their predicament, thought Alex as he shifted slightly on the frozen ground. The movement caused his thigh to brush against a still-sleeping Octavia and a faint smile stole to his lips.
The situation was undeniably grave, but for now, all he could think of was the reassuring warmth stealing through the rough wool of his clothing—a warmth more penetrating than he had ever experienced. He closed his eyes and his arm stole around her waist, drawing her even closer.
Her words from the previous night still echoed in his ears. They had offered a measure of comfort and support that he had given up on ever hearing from anyone. She had not shied away in disgust at his weaknesses or his pain, but had embraced him—faults and all.
His faint smile crooked into a rueful grimace. However, it wouldn’t do to read too much into her actions, he reminded himself. No doubt it was only her innate championing of the underdog, the same sentiment that made her jump tothe defense of helpless children—and likely stray animals—that inspired such kindness.
Alex released a soft sigh that stirred the loose tendrils at the nape of her neck. She was not only kind and compassionate but exceedingly alluring as well, despite her assertions to the contrary. He wondered why she thought herself unattractive. Had none of the country louts she had grown up with ever noticed her intriguing hazel eyes and lush mouth?—
Octavia’s eyes fluttered open. For an instant, she snuggled even closer to him, then, pulled away with a little start.
“Oh!”
“Good morning, Octavia,” he said softly.
A flush of color rose to her cheeks. “Er, good morning, sir.” She sought to wiggle free of his arm.
“Alex,” he reminded her, not quite letting go. “After all, we have spent the night together.”
The blush deepened. “Do stop teasing. As if …” Her words cut off.
“As if what?”
She swallowed hard. “As if … as if we have time to waste.” She struggled to a sitting position. “We had better start thinking of a way to extricate ourselves from this coil.”
Alex reluctantly let his hand fall away from her hip. “Mmmm. Right.” It was very difficult to turn his attention from the cascade of honey-colored tresses framing her face to more practical matters.
With a stick, he prodded a few of the embers into flame, then added an armful of fresh wood to the fire. He glanced upward, only to narrow his eyes in concern at the ominous grey clouds rolling in from the east. “I think we have no choice but to continue with the horses and try to find a way out of this damned forest.”
He pulled a rough map from inside his coat. “If we head west, we must come out somewhere here.” His finger traced along a sketchy road and stopped higher up, at where several village names were scrawled. “At least we may find some food and shelter, and perhaps a conveyance to purchase or a public coach heading north.”
Octavia regarded the wrinkled piece of paper. “We were there?” She pointed to a spot.
He nodded.
“And now we are here?” Her gesture indicated a wide, empty patch between the inked lines.
