Page 57 of Cloaked in Beauty

He was far from okay. His ice-encrusted bones still ached, and his teeth wouldn’t stop chattering, but he lifted a hand in agreement anyway. “Fine.”

It was oddly important to him to keep that smile on her face. When it expanded at his reply, his chest seemed to expand in proportionate measure.

“Good. We’re almost there.”

Almost where? He’d forgotten.

“We’ll have you warm in no time,” she said before turning to face forward again.

Warm. That’s right. They were going someplace warm. Warm would be nice.

The haze crept over him again until a dog barked and cleared a bit of it away. Philip blinked. Tried to focus on his surroundings.

The rain had let up, softening to more of a clinging mist than a steady shower. A small cabin stood in front of them, light glowing from a front window, but Letty steered them elsewhere. To another building. One with no light. No chimney smoke.

“Heel, Rusty.” She patted her leg, urging her wolf to stay close.

A growl rumbled in his throat in answer to the canine warning emanating from the vicinity of the cabin, but he obeyed his mistress and didn’t charge off to investigate.

When they reached the outbuilding, Letty reined in her mare and dismounted. She came alongside Philip’s horse and patted Steele’s neck before looking up at him. “This is where we are going to stay. I need you to dismount and get inside. I’ll take care of the horses and supplies after I get the stove lit. All right?”

He nodded, hoping he didn’t disgrace himself by falling off his horse and splatting face first in the mud. The moment he nodded, she spun and darted into what looked to be a bunkhouse, judging by the narrow beds stacked two high, visible against the far wall through the door she’d left gaping. At least he wouldn’t have an audience.

With legs and arms feeling as strong as wet newspaper, Philip dismounted with extra care, not fully releasing his grip on the saddle until he’d tested that his knees wouldn’t buckle beneath his weight.

His tortoise movements contrasted starkly with Letty’s jackrabbit speed. She hopped from one thing to the next so fast, she’d started to blur. He’d barely started unfastening his saddlebags when she dashed back outside.

“The kindling’s caught,” she told him as she hurried past, “but I need to fetch some logs from the woodshed. I’ll be right back.”

“I’ll be h-here.” Probably still working on unfastening the straps on his bags at the rate he was going. Numb, shaky fingers left him with the dexterity of a toddler.

When the last strap finally slipped free, a ridiculous surge of accomplishment jabbed through his chest. He draped the saddlebags over his left arm and shuffled toward the door. Rusty stood in the doorway, eyeing him. Philip couldn’t decide if it was concern or disdain glowing in the animal’s golden eyes. Feeling the throb in his right forearm and remembering bits and pieces of what he’d done to deserve it, he figured it might be best to offer an apology before pushing his way into the building.

Philip hobbled to the entrance and bowed his head as he made eye contact with Rusty. “S-Sorry I lost my head b-back there. You were r-right to s-step in.” The ache in his skull intensified as he tried to recount the details of what had happened. All he recalled was being crouched over Letty, her shoulders pinned to the ground beneath his hands. A shiver passed through him that had nothing to do with the chill attacking him. “It w-won’t happen again. Y-You have m-my word.”

He was her protector. That he remembered. Yet in his current worthless state, she was the one protecting him. He didn’t care for that much, but until he cleared the fog from his brain and regained feeling in his limbs, there wasn’t much he could do about it.

Rusty must’ve accepted Philip’s apology, for he gave a little whine, then stepped out of the way to allow Philip to enter.

The room wasn’t warm yet, but standing in dry air felt like a gift from heaven. Philip dropped his saddlebags on the floor inside the door, then pulled off his hat. Water dripped from the brim to puddle at his feet as he pivoted to seek out a hook. After hanging his hat on a nail inside the door, he shuffled a few more steps into the room. The stove in the center of the space drew him forward with the promise of heat. A plank table with benches stood to his right, with two bunked beds along the wall to his left. Four chairs sat in a circle of sorts on the far side of the stove. Philip had started contemplating the merits of sitting in one when Letty swooped back inside.

She’d removed her slicker to make a waterproof sling for the wood she’d collected. Releasing one edge of the slicker, she let the logs tumble onto the floor. She fed the stove a few of the smaller pieces, then shook the residual bark and dirt from the coat’s interior and put it back on.

Without asking permission, she marched up to him and started undoing the buttons on his overcoat. “You’ve been wet long enough. Time to get rid of these things.”

She peeled the slicker off, then tossed it over the back of one of the chairs. Next, she moved to the nearest bunk and stripped its blanket away. Followed by the sheet. She tossed the sheet into one chair, then, taking the blanket with her, grabbed a different chair, dragged it to the center of the room, and climbed atop it. Standing on her tiptoes, she draped the blanket over the crossbeam, creating a somewhat precarious screen.

“I’m going to tend the animals and bring in the supplies. While I’m doing that, you need to remove every stitch of clothing you’re wearing.” Her face flamed as red as her hood, but she kept spouting orders. “Dry off as best you can with the sheet, then wrap up in the blanket. I’ll see if I can find any dry clothes that might have been left behind when I get back. Your job is to sit close to the stove and get warm. Got it?”

Before he could figure how in the world he was supposed to respond, she turned, stepped around the blanket divider, and left him alone. The sound of her heels clomping against the wooden floor rang loudly in the room until the door closed and cut off all contact between them. A click of canine nails tickled his senses a moment before Rusty stuck his nose around the blanket wall. If wolves had eyebrows, Philip was certain Rusty was raising his.

Philip reached for his suspenders as he locked gazes with his furry chaperone. “N-Not a w-word.”

The acceleration of his pulse over the last minute must have cleared away a bit of the fog from his brain, for one staggering truth shone through. If anyone ever learned that he’d been locked away with the Radcliffe heiress without a stitch of clothing on, his job with the Pinkertons would be finished, and Letty’s reputation would be destroyed.

26

Letty leaned against the door she’d just closed and expelled a quiet groan. First she’d subjected him to unnecessary nestling, then she’d inflicted an unrequested kiss upon his person, and now she’d demanded he remove his clothing and wrap himself in bedding. It wouldn’t surprise her if he ran for the hills the moment he turned her over to her mother. Of course, he had to survive long enough to get them both to Houston, and judging by his odd behavior and his inability to generate body heat, his survival was anything but assured.