Chapter Text
Declan Fraser was out chopping wood in the middle of a snowstorm when he heard the cries. They came from somewhere over his right shoulder, where flakes of snow had begun to settle on his wool coat.
Help! It came again on the breeze. He paused his movements to listen. All the while, snow came whirling down, and what little light remained began to sink toward a glowing, cloud-lit darkness.
“Is someone there?” he called, almost unable to believe it himself. The whole point of leasing this old, out-of-the-way cottage had been to avoid people entirely, and thus far, six months into his tenure, it’d worked wonders. Not a soul in sight.
Here! I’m here!
It sounded like a young woman. For half an instant, he considered turning around and heading straight back to his cottage instead. Perhaps he was imagining it… perhaps he’d taken leave of his senses…
But then it came again. Please! Anyone!
And that decided him. The desperation in her voice.
“This way, Colin,” he said, leading his horse and cart deeper into the woods. He tossed his axe up into the back of the cart, where its dull clatter was muffled by the soft padding of fallen snow. The only sound now was his own breathing, coming fast and hard in his surprise.
Then, they rounded a thick oak and found her.
She was sitting atop a crushed carriage wheel, using the bulk of the wrecked structure to shelter from the snow. But it was poor shelter indeed, for snow coated her loosened gold curls, her cloaked shoulders, her yellow dress. She looked like a ray of sunlight caught in winter, pale and frosted yet still living and breathing. Still beautiful.
Declan stopped in his tracks.
“Thank God,” she said, melting back against the carriage in relief. “I was calling for ages. I heard you chopping wood.”
“I didn’t think your voice was real.”
She raised a delicate eyebrow. She had lively eyes, bright and green. “Does that happen often? Phantom women calling through the trees?”
He’d not expected to be teased upon accomplishing this rescue. For the love of God, she could’ve died out here, and she had the nerve to mock her savior. Well, perhaps he should turn around and leave her. Serve her right.
But he couldn’t bring himself to do that. He merely grunted an acknowledgement and asked, “What happened to the driver?”
“He went off to get help. That way.” She pointed over her shoulder, back toward the road.
“Why were you coming through these woods, anyhow? This is little more than a deer path.”
“The main road is completely blocked off because of all this snow,” she said, as if it should be obvious. As if he were the simpleton here.
“Well…” He looked nervously back at his horse. His humble cart. The polite thing to do seemed obvious here. But he could not bring himself to make the offer. This woman… this teasing woman… in his house…
“I don’t s-suppose you have a warm bottle of tea I could drink, or better yet, some brandy…?”
He looked back at her. She might be trying to put on a brave face, but she was shivering so hard she could barely speak.
He sighed internally.
Of course he was going to help her.
“Here,” he said, holding out a hand. “I’ll lift you into my cart and get you back home.”
She eyed his hand with clear wariness. “And where’s home, exactly?”
“About a mile back that way,” he said, pointing away from the direction the coachman had gone. “A small cottage, but there’s a fire. And, yes, brandy.”
Her eyes lit. “You don’t carry it with you while you’re…” She glanced at the cart. “Chopping wood in the snow?”
“Not on this occasion, no,” he said drily, still holding out his hand. Like a dunce.
But she took it, sliding her icy fingers around his gloved ones, and even through the layer of leather, he could feel a shock of awareness.
And cold.
He tugged her up to standing, and she staggered for a moment in the snow, struggling to catch herself on her feet. He reached out and caught her one-armed around the waist, and that’s when he noticed her shallow breathing, the bright red spots on her cheeks.
Good lord. All this, and she might be ill.
She took a couple of crooked steps forward, slipping out of his grasp, but still holding his other hand for steadiness. And she needed it. If not for that, she might have fallen down.
“I’m sorry.” Her cheeks grew redder. “My feet have gone numb.”
Oh, God. Frostbite. It made sense, in those flimsy silk shoes.
He needed to get her home and in front of a fire. Quickly.
“Pardon me,” he said, steadying her.
“For what?”
“This.”
And he swept her up into his arms and carried her to the cart like a bundle of goods.
#
Alison had never been lifted up and carried like this. Not since she was a little girl. The world tilted and swirled, and for a moment, it felt like flying. Then, she was in the back of a rumbling cart, bumping along between the trees, and she thought she might be sick.
But she swallowed back her nausea, trying to focus on her surroundings. Up ahead, she could see the head and shoulders of her rescuer as he drove them through the woods. Snow had settled in his red-gold hair, turning it white. She clasped her cloak harder around her, and found…
No, it wasn’t her cloak. It was his wool coat. And it was warm.
She buried herself in it. It smelled of someone foreign, sharp pine and smoky leather. She held it so hard that her hands hurt… but, no, they were simply warming up. Because she also wore his gloves.
Somehow, when he’d set her in the carriage, he’d given her his warm things, too.
She laughed to herself. He turned back to glance over his shoulder. “Nearly there,” he said, or she thought he did, anyway. She couldn’t be sure. Not because of sound—the whole world was blissfully quiet, muffled from snow—but because her head was swimming, sharp with pain.
Oh, no, that’s not right. She had to remember something—something important. The carriage driver! No, not him—he’d get help, he’d find her—something else. Somewhere she was supposed to be.
She had an appointment, and she shouldn’t miss it.
But then the world tilted once more, and she was once again enveloped in warmth, and the last thing she remembered was the flicker of the fire behind her eyelids as safety flooded in.