Page 28 of Snowed In with the Runaway Bride

With a gasp, she sat bolt upright, rubbing her hands over her eyes as if to dispel the lingering image. He rolled over sleepily, blinking up at her. "Is something wrong?"

"No. I just had... a bad dream."

"Well, lie down again. You're letting in the cold air."

She glared at him and flopped down, drawing the quilt back up to her shoulders.

She would be nowhere near him and his ship. She would be in Bath with Aunt Nelson learning how to be a rich, eccentric spinster. And Hugo would do whatever it was sailors did far, far away from her, and she would never see him again.

The thought should not have made her want to cry, so she punched her pillow and rolled over with her back to him.

As soon as the snow melted, they would go their separate ways, and that would be best for both of them.

Hugo once again awakened before dawn to a warm, soft armful of Penny, his face half-buried in her loosened braid. They had gravitated together during the night, and the pillow he had hoped would protect his modesty had slipped down past their knees. Once again, their hips pressed so closely together that her arse cradled his morning erection, which pushed against her like an eager hound. Now only two thin layers of cloth separated their bodies, the slight friction torturously delicious.

Hugo had hoped the borrowed nightshirt would make him feel old and staid. Instead, he felt like a young boy again—the same boy who had fallen hopelessly in love with Penny Montgomery even after he understood she could never be his.

And nothing had changed. Except for everything that had. His interactions with Penny in the safely chaperoned havens of their family gatherings had not prepared him for the reality of seeing her all day. Living with her. Breathing her in as often as he wanted. Conversing with her, and watching her when she was not aware of it.

She stirred a little, a tiny frown between her brows, and instinctively he tightened his arm around her. She smiled and settled down, snuggling herself more firmly against him as his heart broke.

He could never let her go… except that he must. For both of their own goods. With the Montgomery fortune at his disposal, Oliver would be able to provide Penny with the safety and security that he, Hugo, never could. All he could offer was cramped living conditions, poor food, and the promise of danger, whether that was storms, battles, sickness, or simply Penny’s body betraying her when they were too far from shore to find help.

Hugo had resolved years ago never to marry. After all, the constant separations made being a sailor’s wife a difficult life, and he had no intention of leaving the sea.

But now that he had Penny in his arms, he understood at last there had been another reason for his resolution.

He never wanted to marry anyone other than Penny.

9

Penny woke slowly, feeling far too comfortable to want to stir. She was safe, warm, and protected, and she never wanted to leave this bed. She had a slight headache from the previous night’s excess of cider, but nothing she was unable to ignore.

Her head was pillowed on Hugo’s bicep as he curled his body around hers, and she could feel that peculiar lump against her bottom again. Experimentally, she rubbed herself against it.

Hugo leapt from the bed as though he had been burned and she sat up, thrown out of her reverie. He stood with his back to her, facing the window, through which a small amount of weak sunlight was creeping. A deep breath expanded his back and shoulders, and he let it out again with a sigh.

She looked at him curiously, unsure what had just happened. “Are you… all right?”

“I’m fine,” he said shortly, and disappeared behind the dressing screen with a fresh shirt from the clothespress and his breeches. She could hear the splashing as he washed and then returned from around the edge to don his waistcoat and coat, buttoning them with strong movements.

At last, he turned to look at her, and his bleak expression made her draw back.

“You must dress. We need to talk.”

“All right,” she said. He looked away as she slid to the floor and pulled her traveling bag behind the screen with her. She only had one clean chemise left, and would need to ask Mrs. Robson if there was a way to have the others laundered. From what she could see as she glanced out the window, the snow seemed to have stopped falling, but the drifts remained as high as ever. The stage would not come through for at least a few more days until enough snow melted to make the roads passable again.

She did her ablutions, pulled on her clothing, and unbraided her hair to brush and re-arrange it. She twisted her arms around her back to hook her dress by herself, and nearly upended the screen with her efforts. At last, with a gusty sigh, she stepped around the edge of the screen again.

“I require your assistance.”

Seemingly lost in thought, Hugo started at her words, but stood up and crossed to her. She presented her back to him, but there were no lingering touches this time, only efficient movements that had her fastened in the blink of an eye. He moved away as soon as he could, and she tamped down her flash of hurt. Of course Hugo wanted nothing to do with her. She had been a fool to allow herself to become so comfortable with him.

“Please. Sit down.”

Gingerly, she sat on the edge of the mattress, feet dangling, while Hugo paced back and forth in the narrow space at the foot of the bed, clearly trying to decide what to say.

“Stop making such a show of it, Hugo,” she said sharply. “Tell me what is the matter.”