Page 17 of Snowed In with the Runaway Bride

The eye looked past Hugo to Penny’s slumped figure, and to the exhausted horse. After a long pause, the innkeeper made a sound of exasperation. “Well, don’t leave her to freeze.”

Hugo leaped to Penny’s side and helped her slide from the horse, supporting her as she limped to the door, continuous shivers running through her body. “Go sit by the fire while I get the horse settled.”

Her bonnet nodded wearily and she followed the innkeeper through the door. A draft of warm air washed over Hugo and he inhaled the mingled scents of spilled ale, tobacco, and unwashed bodies like it was the finest perfume.

Whatever else happened, at least they wouldn’t freeze to death.

“Come on, boy,” he said to the horse, and led the exhausted animal to the warmth of the stables. Worries and emotions that had frozen during their journey began to unthaw, but he had no time to think about them now.

As long as Penny was safe, none of the rest mattered.

6

After the cold, gray darkness of outdoors, the light and heat and noise of the taproom was almost more than Penny could bear. Gritting her teeth, she stumbled after the innkeeper, her joints aching fiercely. Each step was agony, but she kept going. There was a seat by the fire if she kept going.

A boy sitting in the chair closest to the fireplace leapt up at the innkeeper’s shout, and Penny collapsed into it. The seat was hard, the cushion stained, but at least her aching joints no longer had to support her. She began to shiver, the tremors rocking her whole body. Snow and ice stuck to her cloak melted under the fire’s heat and dripped to the floor.

“Tea, m’dear?” a voice shouted in her ear, and she carefully turned her head to see a blowsy older woman smiling at her—the innkeeper’s wife, most likely.

“Yes. Please,” Penny croaked out.

“Put a splash of brandy in it,” a man’s voice said. Hugo. He had removed his hat and was shaking moisture from his dark hair, much to the displeasure of the nearby customers. His stance as firm as if he stood on the deck of his ship, he coolly regarded each man in the taproom in turn until they looked away to whisper among themselves. He was only of average height and slight of build, but he commanded the room effortlessly.

“We don’t got brandy here, m’lord.” The innkeeper’s wife bobbed a curtsey. “Only whiskey.”

“Whiskey, then,” Hugo said, and moved to kneel in front of Penny. “Are you all right?”

Her chattering teeth were beginning to get back under her control, and she croaked out, “No.”

Unexpectedly, he grinned and she gaped for a moment. Had he ever smiled at her like that before?

Wheeling, he caught the innkeeper by the arm as the man bustled past. “My wife and I require a room.”

Wife? Penny tried to form a protest, but another round of shivering overtook her.

“You can require all you like, m’lord, but we ain’t got any. We’re full up.”

Hugo reached into an inner pocket of his coat and took out his purse, jingling it in his hand. The innkeeper’s eyes bulged a little as Hugo opened it and removed a sovereign, twirling it carelessly between his long, sensitive fingers. “Are you certain?”

The innkeeper gulped and swallowed, clearly torn between greed and hospitality. “Well… p’haps we have one room left. M’lord.”

Hugo tossed the coin to him. “Take us to it.”

His hand came under Penny’s elbow and she stumbled to her feet. She did not want to have to lean on him, but it seemed her legs would not quite support her as she shuffled along, her aching joints screaming with every step. Grimly, she allowed him to half-carry her up the stairs.

It would be far more comfortable to lay down and die in a bed than in the crowded taproom.

The innkeeper walked them up three flights of stairs before unlocking and opening a door, and Hugo nearly regretted his decision.

It was possibly the smallest room he’d ever seen on land. Not much larger than the cabin he’d shared as a junior lieutenant, the room was dominated by a bed that was just big enough for two, the head pressed against one wall with the foot no more than two feet from the opposite wall. The doors of the clothes-press off to the side must surely brush against the mattress when they were opened. The other wall held the fireplace, with only the hearth and a firescreen separating the bed from it. A fire already roared behind the screen, indicating that whoever had been evicted from the room had left very recently indeed.

Hugo had planned to politely sleep on the floor, but he could not see any available space in which to do so. Except perhaps under the bed itself.

Penny tilted her head to look up at him from beneath the brim of her bonnet, her eyes huge and panicked. He gave her a false smile and patted her hand where it now clung to his arm.

“We shall be just fine, my dear. As cozy as we would be on my ship.”

At this, the innkeeper brightened. “Ah, so you’re a sailor, milord? An admiral?”