Page 52 of Cloaked in Beauty

Her cape slid from his shoulders, and she frowned. “What we need is a room with a roaring hearth where you and Rusty can get dry and warm, and where you can rest from your . . . adventure.” She arranged her cape around Rusty’s shivering form, then faced off with her stubborn guardian. “I say we go back to the bridge and follow the road to the closest town where we can find a room to rent. I don’t want either of you coming down with the ague after this.”

Philip crossed his arms over his chest and glared, a look that would have been much more intimidating if his teeth hadn’t been chattering. “N-no t-towns. T-too d-dangerous for y-you.”

“Well, being out in the rain after taking a dip in a frigid river is too dangerous for you. If you take sick, who’s going to watch out for me then?” Not that she cared one whit about herself at this moment, but his honor would let him care about little else, and she wasn’t above using that against him.

His hand clasped her wrist. “No towns.” He tightened his jaw and spoke slowly, as if he thought his chattering teeth weakened his position.

Nothing about this man was weak, and she intended to make sure that remained the case.

Lightning flashed in the stormy gray of his eyes. “Your word, Letty.”

“On one condition.” Two could play the demand game. “You help me scout out a place of substance for us to shelter in. Of substance, Philip. A tarp strung between two trees is not sufficient. I want walls and a roof and a place for a fire.”

He released her wrist and made a sound in his throat that could have rivaled one of Rusty’s growls. “When did you get to be so bossy?”

“About the same time you got to be so wet.”

He chuckled. Yes, he shook his head while he did so, and she was pretty sure she’d caught an eye roll before he turned his head, but that chuckle warmed her through and through. This was the friend she’d been missing. The one who’d been hidden behind the cold walls of professionalism for the past couple of days. The one she intended to care for with the same diligence he’d exerted on her behalf.

Philip plopped onto his rear and tugged his left boot off with a grunt. “Fine.” He tipped the boot over, and the equivalent of a glassful of water poured onto the dirt. “I’ll find us some substantial shelter.”

“Excellent!” Letty bent over Rusty and arranged her cape around him so he would be protected from the drizzling rain still falling from the sky. Patting his back, she lowered her voice as she cooed to her pet. “You just rest here for a few minutes, my friend. I’ll be right back. And then we can find a nice spot next to a big fire for you. How does that sound?”

Rusty offered a tepid whine in response. The sound tugged on Letty’s heartstrings. She dropped a kiss on the top of his head through the fabric of her hood.

“You’re such a loyal friend,” she whispered, “so fierce and brave. It’s my turn to take care of you. You and that stubborn Pinkerton over there.” She cast a glance at Philip, where he sat frowning over the water pouring from his second boot. “My two heroes.”

Watch over them, Lord. Protect them from sickness, and give me the ability to do for them as they have done for me.

Leaning over Rusty, she wrapped her arms around him and pressed her face against his neck in an embrace she hoped brought him a little heat as well as comfort. Then she straightened, blew out a breath, and brushed the wet sand from her skirt. The action didn’t accomplish much in the way of cleanliness—everything was far too damp—but it felt like a preparatory step that needed to be taken as she shifted from follower to leader.

“I’ll fetch the packhorse while you change into some dry clothes.” She aimed her pronouncement in Philip’s direction but didn’t wait for his response before striding toward a less steep section of the embankment.

“Hold on a minute.”

Letty peered over her shoulder and found Philip on his feet, trying to shove his soggy foot back into his wet boot.

“I’ll fetch the packhorse,” the muleheaded man insisted. “You stay here with Rusty.”

For pity’s sake! She was trying to help him.

Letty jabbed a finger in his direction. “You, Mr. Carmichael, are going to march up to that faithful steed of yours and fetch a pair of dry stockings along with a dry shirt and trade in that drenched buckskin for the slicker you keep tied up behind your saddle. Then you’re going to get Rusty up this embankment and feed him a piece of jerky to help him regain his strength while you scan that map you carry for a route likely to lead us to the substantial shelter you promised me.”

He raised a brow at her highhanded manner. “Putting on dry clothes isn’t going to do much good in the rain.”

“There’s a difference between damp and drenched, and I aim to see you as dry as possible before we set off again.” Unexpected tears rose to clog her throat, but she choked them down. “I will not have you catching your death because of me, Philip Carmichael, and that’s final.”

“You’re still awfully bossy,” he grumbled.

“Yes, well, you’re still awfully wet. Maybe when you’re drier my mood will sweeten.”

He flashed a smile, and some of her ire evaporated. Then his expression turned somber. “Stay out of sight, Letty. And put on that extra slicker I packed for you. No sense in all of us being soaked to the skin.”

Her gaze met his, and a fluttery feeling danced through her chest. The concern in his eyes looked anything but professional.

“I will,” she promised, her voice going as soft as her heart.

Then she cleared her throat and resumed her hike with resolve. This wasn’t the time for soft. This was the time for strong. The two most important males in her life had taken a blow, and she intended to lighten their load and see to their welfare. Whether they liked it or not.