Page 23 of Snowed In with the Runaway Bride

“Yes.”

“You read gothic novels?”

“Yes.” Her expression made him want to laugh, but he did not.

She was still gazing at him as though she was startled by this new knowledge. "I suppose I never thought a sailor might read. Not for enjoyment, that is."

He shook his head in disbelief at her ignorance. "What did you think we did all day?"

"Sail, of course. Hoist that main, and all that. But I suppose you must have some leisure time as well."

"There are other ways to pass the time aboard ship. Many of the men play instruments, or gamble. I prefer to read."

She laughed. "Forgive me. I know how foolish I must seem for being surprised. I had never thought of what you might read."

Her comment brought a surprising stab of hurt, and he pulled back. Of course Penny had never given much thought to him, her intended groom’s younger brother. She scarcely noticed him unless he was stood in front of her.

And yet... she had kept the swallow he had carved for her. Even brought it with her on this mad escapade. That must mean something.

Or it could mean nothing.

And either way, it did not matter. Penny was still his brother's betrothed so far as Hugo was concerned. Perhaps she considered the engagement broken after her flight, but he would never be able to survive these close quarters with her if he did not keep his mind firmly on the fact that she was not free.

And not for him even if she was free.

Penny stretched, the covers falling around her waist, and he looked away from the breasts that strained against their covering. More of her hair had slipped out of its braid, still too short after her illness to be fully contained. He wanted to know what it would look like spread across the pillow as he gazed down at her. How it would feel in his hands as he kissed her.

Even as he had the thought, she yawned and snuggled down under the covers again, wincing a little with the movement and shifting to find a more comfortable position. Now he felt like a monster, lusting after a woman who was ill and in pain.

It was his clear duty to care for Penelope Montgomery in this situation. Until he had her returned to Oliver’s custody, he must ensure she remained safe and virtuous against any man who desired her.

Including himself.

8

Penny spent most of the day alternately napping, reading, and doing her exercises. To her relief, the pain lessened through the day until it was nearly back at the level it had been when she first arrived at Gaitskill Castle. Unpleasant, but bearable.

Hugo, it turned out, was a far better nurse than she ever would have thought he could be. Each time she awoke, he had small snacks available for her—a slice of cheese and bread, a handful of nuts, some dried fruit—and more fire-warmed towels to wrap her sore joints. He had cast off his coat and boots to lay at the foot of the bed with his own book, leaning against the footboard as he read.

Every few pages, she would sneak a peek at him over the top of her book from her spot at the head of the bed. Sometimes he would run a hand through his rumpled hair, or shift his body so his leg came close to brushing hers through the layers that separated them. She had never spent such intimate time alone with a man before, companionable and only half-dressed. She had rarely seen a man in his shirtsleeves, and even more rarely a man she knew rather than, say, a laborer in the fields.

It occurred to her at odd times that she wore nothing beneath her flannel nightdress, giving her a peculiar thrill.

Sometimes she wondered if Hugo was thinking of that, too.

At one point late in the afternoon, she assured him he could go down to the taproom for a time and she would be fine alone. He shrugged.

“I’ve been down once or twice while you slept. There’s not much to do down there other than drink or gamble.”

“Oh.” Penny vaguely recalled that gambling had stopped at Gaitskill Castle the Christmas after Hugo’s father had died. “Do you not gamble?”

“No.”

His clipped tone told her to drop the subject, so she did. She seemed to remember something to do with his father and gambling, but she needed to recall what that was before she put her foot in it. Instead, she smiled brightly at him.

“If you like, I can wash up so we can eat supper in the taproom instead of staying here all evening.”

He frowned. “Are you well enough to navigate the stairs?”