Page 168 of Snowbound Surrender
“Scarlett? Scarlett!?”
He looked from side to side desperately for his wife as Chaucy walked over to collect Star. Suddenly the driver began shouting urgently.
“My lord! Come quickly!”
“Chaucy, I cannot see to a horse, not when my wife?—”
“But my lord, she is here!”
Hunter ran over, seeing as he did, that the bundle of cloth nearly covered by snow, overtop the horse was a person — his wife. She was slumped so low over the horse’s neck he had hardly been able to see her form.
“Scarlett!” he shouted, running to her, fear coursing through him at her prostrate body, which looked so frozen, her lips blue when he lifted her off Star, pulling her into his arms as he kneeled in the snow.
“Scarlett, oh Scarlett, what happened? Open your eyes, love, open your eyes!"
At last, she did as he commanded, though her gaze was unfocused, and while her teeth began chattering violently, at least it was better than the stillness of the previous moment.
“What in the hell are you doing out here?” he demanded.
She attempted to answer, but he shook his head to stop her, despite the fact that he had, in fact, asked the question. “Never mind that for now. We must get you warm and into the house as quickly as possible. Chaucy, will you see to the horses?”
At the man’s nod, Hunter lifted his wife into the carriage, sitting down himself and holding her close in an attempt to warm her as best he could.
“Hunter,” she said weakly, and despite his best attempt to tell her not to speak, she insisted. “Hunter, I must tell you something.”
“Yes?”
“I love you.”
She lifted her head, her hazel eyes boring into him, as though pleading for him to hear her, to understand. He more than understood. Those three words released emotions within him of an intensity that he had never known was possible, coursing through his body, causing him to tremble nearly as much as she. He felt wetness on his face, which at first he attributed tomelting snow, but soon he realized they were tears. He couldn’t remember the last time he had cried, but now they dripped down his cheeks faster than the snow that fell from the sky.
“I’m sorry … I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”
“Oh, Scarlett,” he said, pulling her close. “Don’t be daft. Just stay with me now, here, until we can get you home and warm. I’m the one who should be sorry for leaving you.”
Her eyes were closing then, so he did all he could do at the moment, holding her close, rocking, and praying that all would be all right.
Scarlett feltheat upon her yet frigidness within when she finally opened her eyes, turning her head back and forth to see the fire burning merrily in the grate to one side of her, her husband sleeping in the chair on the other side.
“Hunter?” she murmured, and he snapped to attention, the wild curls of his hair swirling about his face in even more abandon than usual, his eyes red and tired, his cheeks pale. “Are you all right? Shouldn’t you be in London?”
“Scarlett,” he said, coming down to kneel beside her. “You’re awake.”
“Of course I’m awake,” she bit her lip. “I’m speaking with you, aren’t I?”
He chuckled then, a laugh filled with relief as he placed his forehead against the hand he gripped in his own. “I was so worried about you.”
Suddenly her wild ride came flashing back in jolts of memories — her fall, Stone’s threats, her attempt to make it home. She must have made it, she thought, though she didn’thave any recollection of how she came to be in her bed. But how had Hunter come to be here?
“Why are you here?” she asked with bemusement.
“I’m here for you,” he said simply.
“How long has it been since I fell off the horse?” she asked, trying to sit up further, but found her chest still ached when she moved too quickly.
“Since yesterday,” he replied, stroking her fingers. “We gave you something to help you sleep and ease the pain.”
“Who sent for you? I would have been fine, really. I?—”
