Chapter 13

They had been traveling a couple of hours when the snow began. At first, it was just a few gentle flakes, but when Jenny saw Hugh exchange a look with Lucas, she knew that both men believed it would grow worse.

They kept on, but she could tell they were looking for shelter. At one point, they paused to consider a cottage on a hill with smoke curling from its chimney.

Lucas said, "Happen there'd be some soul there to give us shelter, sir."

"Aye, but I'd liefer not draw unnecessary attention to ourselves. Annan lies only fifteen miles southeast of Dumfries. We should be able to cover that distance before nightfall, but we must find a place to wait out this storm. It won't be the first time we've provided our own shelter in such a case, Lucas."

"Nay, sir, it will not. There be one or two villages ahead, too. Happen w—"

"There will be woodland before we reach the next village," Hugh interjected. "I'd prefer that we keep to ourselves to avoid any comment. If her ladyship had a female companion, no one would pay us heed. But, as it is, unless we make a point of my being her husband… well, I'd prefer that we name no names. That would be gey difficult anywhere we might request shelter. As we get closer to Annan, we also risk the possibility that someone may recognize her."

Lucas nodded, but the snow fell harder, and Jenny saw Hugh look skyward more often as they rode. It had grown much colder, too.

By the time they reached the woods he had mentioned, the horses' pace had slowed to a walk. Jenny's teeth were chattering, and it was hard to discern the road.

In the woods, it was easier, because the trees were mostly beeches, creating a high, dense canopy. It thinned over the roadway but so far had allowed snow to fall only in sporadic patches to the ground. They rode nearly to the woods' eastern edge before Hugh turned off the road into a small clearing under the canopy.

"We'll stop here and make a fire," he said, glancing at Jenny.

She tried to smile, but her lips felt numb.

Grimacing as he dismounted, he strode to lift her down, saying as he did, "Your lips are blue, lass. With that thick, hooded cloak of yours, I thought you were warm enough. You should have said something."

"I did not realize how cold I was," she said as he set her on her feet. They felt as numb as her hands and lips, and when she tried to walk, she stumbled.

Muttering an oath, he scooped her into his arms and shouted at Lucas to fetch blankets from the sumpter and to get the tent set up and a fire going.

"Her ladyship is frozen to the bone," he added. "Just fling over what I can use to warm her whilst you see to the tent and the fire. Has the snow soaked through your cloak?" he demanded brusquely of Jenny.

"Nay, not yet," she said.

"For a sensible woman, you're as daft as a bairn sometimes," he retorted. "You must have known your hands were cold. And don't try telling me they aren't."

"I don't know how cold they are. I can't feel them," she said.

Grimly, he said, "I'm going to put you on your feet again. I'll hold on to you when I do, but I want you to move them about whilst I rub your hands. It will hurt, but that's to the good. And it serves you right for not paying better heed in such weather. Sithee, your hands and feet will freeze first, lass. When Lucas gets the pallets down and the blankets on them, he and I will gather more wood for the fire. But in the meantime we must do all we can to warm you."

He had spoken the truth. Her feet hurt when she moved them, and when he told her to stamp them on the ground, she said irritably, "I can't. It hurts too much. Surely, it cannot be a good thing to do."

"Do as I tell you," he snapped, grabbing her shoulders and giving her a shake before going back to rubbing her hands.

She would have liked to stomp on his feet but knew it would hurt. Also, she saw that Lucas had the tent up already and was throwing the pallets into it.

"Ye can bring her now, sir," he said. "By, but t' lass looks perishin' starved! Tha should hutch up with 'er for a time. I'll get the fire going straightaway."

"I'm not even hungry yet," Jenny protested.

"He doesn't mean that you look hungry," Hugh said. "In Yorkshire, ‘starved' means freezing cold, and hutching up is one way for me to warm you until he gets the fire going. So, get yourself moving."

As Hugh gestured to the tent, she said, "Won't all the wood here be wet?"

"Only on the outside, and it is dryer under the trees than out in the open," he said. "That's why we stopped here. Now, cease your fretting, and get into that tent."

She wished he would carry her. He was strong and able, and the tent, though only a short distance away, seemed too distant for her aching feet.

"Go," he snapped.

She went. Each step shot pins and needles through her feet, but her legs were no longer numb and would, she hoped, soon feel normal again.

When she ducked into the tent, Hugh followed her, ordering her to lie on the pallets, which Lucas had stacked one atop the other.

"I'll cover you," he said. "You'll be warm again in no time."

"I should take off my cloak," she said.

"Aye, give it to me. I'll shake it out and lay it on top. It still has your body heat and will help warm the blankets."

She lay down and let him pull off her boots and pile blankets on her, but still she shivered. The blankets felt cold, her feet icy, and her teeth chattered again.

"Damnation," he swore, staring at her. "Lucas was right."

Laying his cloak atop hers and pulling off his boots, he slipped into the bed beside her, pulling her close. "This is what he meant when he told me to hutch up with you, although he meant skin-to-skin, like rabbits. Try to relax now," he added. "Slip your feet between my legs and press as close to me as you can."

She had stiffened as he got into the bed, but the warmth emanating from him was irresistible, and when he slid an arm around her, she snuggled closer. His breeks felt damp through her stockings, but even damp they felt toasty warm.

As his warmth penetrated, she did begin to relax. Then he shifted position, and her head came to rest on his shoulder with her cheek against his hard chest.

A short time later, he said quietly, "Better?"

"Aye," she murmured. "I'm nearly warm again. Should you not help Lucas?"

"I'll go presently. He doesn't need me yet, but I think we may be here for a while. We may have to build a stronger shelter."

"How?"

"We'll make one from branches, so when the snow in the canopy begins sifting or clumping down on us, as it will, it won't smash the tents or melt through."

"We're using two tents then?"

"Aye, Lucas does have his own, after all. You and I will share this one."

"Won't he get cold, all on his own?" she asked, noting with a sense of gratitude and other less identifiable feelings that he had not suggested that he and Lucas sleep together and let her have a tent to herself.

"Not unless it gets much colder than it has been. If it does, he'll come in here with us. It will be a tight fit, but we'll stay warm. I don't expect this storm to last long enough or grow cold enough to warrant that, but we'll do what we must."

"Are you still angry with me?" she asked abruptly.

"Nay, lass. I wasn't angry before."

"You sounded angry."

"I warrant I did. I was worried that you'd done yourself an injury through being too prideful to ask us to stop and let you get warm."

She thought about that. "I suppose I did fear you'd think me a nuisance," she admitted. "I also thought that you and Lucas must be as cold as I was."

"Next time, don't think about anyone's needs but your own."

"No one has ever told me that before," she said with a chuckle. "From birth, I've been told that I must always think of others first, especially our people."

She could not see his face without shifting her position, but she heard amusement in his voice as he said, "I've heard those words many times myself. But my advice now is a matter of survival, Jenny. You won't be of any use to your people if you freeze to death because you were too prideful to ask for help."

"Aye," she said. "Although I don't know how much use I'm going to be to them now, anyway. Your brother will take over."

He was silent for a time before he said, "Reid will need your guidance. You will remain Easdale of Easdale, after all."

"Aye, but in name only. Phaeline and his lordship said that after we marry, I must leave the management to Reid. He said the same. In fact," she added, "I doubt that he will allow me to guide him. He told me he looks forward to schooling me."

His arm tightened, pulling her closer.

"I think he looks forward eagerly to that," she said. "Were you eager to school your wife, sir—your first one?"

His arm twitched again. "I'd rather not talk about Ella," he said quietly.

"I know what you mean," she said, nodding. "I don't like talking about my father either, particularly with people who did not know him well."

"Like Phaeline and your uncle?"

"Aye. Phaeline no sooner mentioned him than she said he was a fool not to have married again. She said my uncle had been wiser, because he'd provided Mairi with a mother and himself with a woman who will give him a proper male heir."

"Something Phaeline has yet to do," he murmured.

"Aye, but they are certain that this one will be a boy," Jenny said, keeping her doubts about that to herself. "In troth, for Mairi's sake, I hope it is."

"Mairi's sake? I should think she would prefer to remain her father's heiress. Why do you think it better for her if Phaeline bears a son?"

"Because, as it is, Mairi has no suitors. Young men want to know what they are getting when they wed. If my uncle were to acknowledge her as his heiress, she would have suitors aplenty. But whilst Phaeline remains able to produce a son, my uncle neither acknowledges Mairi nor provides her with a proper tocher. So no suitor can be sure that she is worth marrying."

"I see," he said. "I must agree that knowing one's birthright does make one's responsibilities clear."

"If you had only a daughter, would you teach her or keep hoping for a son?"

"I did have a daughter," he said. "Now Reid is my heir, and I realized not long ago that I've done nowt to make his future responsibilities clear to him."

"But you can still marry properly and have more children, sir. You could easily produce a better heir than Reid."

"You are very blunt, madam. Does it not occur to you that you will also benefit when Reid inherits my estates, as he will be your husband by then?"

"Nay, I did not think of that, nor would I. But I meant no offense, sir. You may be responsible in some way for how Reid has turned out, but changing him now would be gey hard. My father, on the other hand, was a shy man who had no interest in remarrying. He was content with his daughter. He taught me all he knew about our estates, and I know he expected to have a say in my marriage, but I wish he had told me more about what to expect."

"I warrant it would have been as he commanded, whilst he lived," Hugh said. "It would certainly have been easier for you if he had. You must miss him sorely."

"As sorely as you miss your wife and daughter," she said. "Sithee, I could ask him anything, and he would answer my questions. But I did not know I would need answers to questions that it never occurred to me to ask."

"You may ask me, if you like," he said.

"Just what do you suppose your brother would say if I were to tell him I had sought your advice and your answer disagreed with what he had decided to do?"

When he did not reply, she turned toward him, raising herself on an elbow to look at him. "I did not put that well, but you must know what I meant."

"Aye," he said. "And you are right. Reid would be angry."

She was quiet as a question she was burning to ask him repeated itself over and over again in her mind until she said, "Things are going to be difficult when we reach Annan House, are they not?"

"Aye, a little," he said. "But I doubt that Phaeline will rip up at you too much whilst I am at hand, if that is what concerns you."

"What about your brother?"

After another silence, he said, "I cannot speak for Reid."

"Peg said he would demand an examination," Jenny said, blurting it out before she lost her nerve. "Do you understand what that means?"

"Aye," he said, his voice sounding harsh again.

"Well, that would be very difficult."

"It is not unusual for a man to demand such a test before his marriage if his bride has not been closely guarded until then. You should have thought of that before you ran away."

"How could I think about something I did not know could happen? My father never told me about such examinations. He assumed I would be under his eye until I married, so it never occurred to him that I might need to know such a thing."

Lucas called, "Sir, the fire be a-going, and I've cut some long branches, so we can begin our shelters if ye'd like."

"I must go, but you'll be warm enough now, I wager," Hugh said, carefully pushing the blankets off himself and tucking them close to her as he got up.

"Aye," she murmured, watching as he pulled on his boots and went outside in only a leather jack and breeks, leaving his heavy cloak atop hers.

It occurred to her that since they would seek an annulment, for her to lie with him was improper under any circumstance. Even so, it had seemed natural to let him hold her, and a blessing to share his warmth.

In truth, although Hugh had often annoyed and exasperated her, something deep inside thrilled at the thought of having him even briefly as her husband. She respected him, and she could talk with him. He understood what it was to manage large estates and bear responsibility for others' lives. He did not regard his estates or hers as mere sources of income. Reid, she suspected, saw Easdale that way and spared not one thought for her or for her people.

She lay a few minutes longer in the warm bed. But now that she was warm, she decided she ought to be up and doing things, helping to keep the fire going if nothing else, while the men dealt with their shelters.

Accordingly, she got up, pulled on her boots, and smoothed the covers on the pallet with Hugh's cloak atop them. Reassuring herself that the inside of her cloak was dry, she put it on, put up the hood, and went outside. She was surprised to see that although the patches of snow were deeper, much of the ground was still clear.

The men were piling branches near the tent, and she saw another pile beside Lucas's tent. Lucas had cut fire-wood, so she went to see if the fire needed tending.

It burned merrily, and Lucas had lashed a spit together, ready to put over the flames later. Hugh glanced at her but said nothing about her having come outside. He and Lucas were already arranging the cut branches around and over Hugh's tent. It seemed to take only minutes and doing Lucas's took less time.

The two men disappeared into the woods then, returning a short while later with a brace of rabbits. They skinned them, and Lucas fixed them on the spit. Then he stood the spit over the fire.

"Where did you put the food we brought?" Jenny asked him, knowing the women had given them a bag of food before they left.

" 'Tis in t' sumpter basket, m'lady," Lucas said, pointing. "We thought we'd liefer 'ave hot food as well, just now."

"Those rabbits already smell delicious," she said as she went to find the sack.

It contained crusty rolls and apples, as well as cold sliced beef. Knowing the men would be hungry and that they would have little use for the food after they reached Annan House, she took it all to a flat rock near the fire.

"We'll have a feast for our midday meal," she said.

"Walk with me for a time first, lass," Hugh said. "I want to see how much snow is flying beyond these woods, and we should come to the end of them a short way from here. We'll have a look whilst Lucas minds the rabbits."

She went willingly. Walking would keep her warm.

"Will the minstrels be building shelters, too?" she asked him.

He shrugged. " 'Tis more likely that their resourceful leader has arranged for them to move into the town hall. I'm hoping this storm will be of short duration, though, so we won't have to stay overnight."

She had mixed emotions about that, but when they reached the edge of the woods, the snow seemed to be falling heavily. She saw no sign of the road other than an area that appeared consistently flatter than the surrounding countryside.

"Is it safe to try following a road we can hardly see?" she asked him.

"We'll wait until it is safe enough. I want to walk a little farther, though. I can't see much to the west from here, and since the storm is moving eastward…"

"I'm coming with you," she said when he paused.

"Aye, sure," he agreed, offering an arm.

Clutching it, she stomped through the snow with him, noting how feathery light it was, and dryer than earlier snows had been. It was already inches deep.

She folded her hands together over his arm, to take advantage of its warmth.

"Cold again?" he asked.

"Not yet," she said. "You're warm enough for two."

He chuckled, and she smiled at the sound. She liked his voice, but even more did she enjoy his laughter. He laughed at the same things she did, and she felt more comfortable with him than she had thought she could feel with anyone.

They walked eastward for a time before he turned and skeptically eyed the dark, forbidding western sky.

"It is going to last a while," Jenny said.

"Aye, a few hours," he said. "We may still have time to reach Annan before nightfall, even so. But I think Lucas and I should cut more firewood."

They returned to find the rabbits ready to take off the spit, and when they had eaten, Hugh told Jenny to go back inside the tent while they cut wood.

The fire was not large, but they had pitched their tents and built their shelters to face it, so she could leave the flap open, snuggle in the blankets, and still watch the men at work. Hugh had not yet put his cloak back on, but when she returned to the tent, Lucas asked her to pass it out to him so he could dry it before the fire.

He had contrived a clever rack for the purpose, and the area where he had built the fire remained relatively dry, the snow piling for the most part in the treetops. She remembered that one reason for the cavelike branch shelters was to protect them if a heavy pile of snow should suddenly fall through the branches overhead.

An hour later, Hugh came to tell her that although the snowfall had eased, it still snowed, so he had decided they would wait at least an hour more to be sure it would not grow worse.

An hour after that, he said it looked as if it might clear before nightfall but not soon enough to travel safely.

Jenny received the news calmly. She was in no hurry.

Hugh watched Jenny, not having to ask what she was thinking. He knew she hated the thought of going back, but he had to take her. He had given his word.

When he and Lucas had cut enough wood, Hugh left him to watch the fire and ducked back inside the tent to see how she was doing.

She smiled when he asked. "It is gey cozy in here now," she said.

"Aye, well, I think the snow will ease again soon," he said. The truth was he was enjoying himself. He always did when he pitted himself against nature or any other foe. For that matter, he had enjoyed playing troubadour with the minstrels. But he was not looking forward to returning her to Dunwythie, let alone to Reid.

Nonetheless, he reminded himself firmly, he had a duty to keep his word.

"I was thinking," he said as Jenny scooted over to make room for him on the pallet. "When we get to Annan House, they will have much to say to you—to both of us, come to that. I have no doubt they expected me to return you within a day or two at most—certainly not to take ten days."

"Aye, for they would expect you to act swiftly," she agreed. "You have a reputation for getting things done competently, I know."

"Do you?"

"Aye, sure; Phaeline told me." Her cheeks flushed then, as she looked away.

"What else did Phaeline say about me?"

Jenny nibbled her lower lip and then grinned at him. "She said that when you make up your mind, you won't change it. You fold your arms and pretend to listen, but one's arguments have no more effect on you than drops of water on a stone."

"That is an absurdity, as I hope I need not tell you."

"Sakes, sir, I don't think it an absurdity. You made up your mind to fetch me, and you've not turned from that course. Phaeline also said," she added hastily, "that one cannot push you to do aught you do not want to do, that even if one were to light a fire between your toes, you would stick to your purpose. She said, too, that you'd pay less heed to your pain than to whether one had built the fire properly."

His lips twitched, but he said, "I trust you do not believe all Phaeline says."

"No, sir, I do not. In troth, I have wondered…" She hesitated.

"Wondered what?"

" 'Tis naught, and I should say no more, for I'm sure I am thinking wishful thoughts. I should be kinder, but I do wish you would not take me back there."

"I must," he said gently. "I promised Dunwythie, just as you promised to marry Reid. We must both honor our promises."

"Well, I wish I did not have to marry Reid," she said fiercely.

"But you agreed to become betrothed to him, and betrothal is more than a promise," he said. " 'Tis a complex, legal agreement involving land issues and other matters that can require long negotiation before the settlements are completed."

"Well, I don't like him any better as my betrothed than I did before."

"If you disliked him so, why did you agree to marry him?" he demanded.

"They gave me no choice!"

"Don't be daft. You had only to refuse to sign the marriage settlements."

With a bewildered look, she said, "But I didn't. I have never signed any document having aught to do with my marriage to Reid Douglas."

Hugh clamped his lips together, stopping the angry words that threatened to spill from his tongue.

When Hugh looked furious but said nothing, Jenny stared at him. "Why do you not speak? Do you think I am lying again? I swear I am not."

He shook his head. Then, as if he thought a headshake had not been enough, he muttered, "I ken fine that you are not lying, lass. I must think on this, and if we are going to spend the night here, we must have more hot food."

With that, he got up and left the tent. Jenny stared after him, her own temper igniting at such treatment. If he were not so big… If Lucas were not also out there…

Then, despite her anger, she smiled. The image of herself running after Hugh, shaking him, and forcing him to speak his thoughts to her was too absurd to sustain.

Still, she wanted to know what she had said to make him so angry, and the only way she could imagine doing that was to ask him. So she pushed off the blankets, put her boots and cloak on again, and went after him.

She found him skinning rabbits with Lucas.

"Mercy, but you caught those quickly," she said to Hugh.

His lips twitched, but he said only, "Lucas set the traps before and had just collected these two."

"Fine work, Lucas," she said with a smile. "Doubtless, you have caught more by now. Mayhap you should go and see."

He glanced up at her, then looked at Hugh.

"Go, Lucas," Jenny said firmly. "I would have a word with Sir Hugh."

"Stay, Lucas," Hugh said. "We have nowt to discuss, lass. I told you to stay inside where you will keep warm."

"Did you, sir? I did not hear you say any such thing. I heard naught and saw only your back as you left. If you want Lucas to hear what I will say to you, he must of course stay. However, I should think—"

"I'm goin'," Lucas said, standing and setting aside his rabbit, neatly skinned.

"Nay, then, you'll not," Hugh said curtly. "You will—"

"Master Hugh, I 'ave stuck by ye through many a good day and many a bad 'un, but ye'll 'ave to deal with your own sorrows now. They be none of my making, nor nowt to do with me. Shout when ye want me, mistress."

With that, he strode off into the woods.

If Jenny was astonished, Hugh was more so.

"By heaven," he exclaimed, "I'll have something to say to that—"

"You already have much to say that you do not say, sir," Jenny said crisply. "But Lucas is not the one who put you in such a temper."

"Jenny, wait now, lass—"

"What concerns me is what I must have said to put you in such a fury. I had been thinking how easily I could talk with you. Then, with a single statement, I got a look as near rage as I have seen on any man's face before you walked off without explanation. That will not do, sir. You would not tolerate it had I done it, nor will I tolerate such treatment from you. If I said aught that I should not have said, pray—"

"Sakes, lass, I'm not angry with you!"

"Then who or what has put you out so?"

He grimaced. "It is not so easy to explain," he said, clearly making an effort to speak quietly. Glancing in the direction Lucas had taken, he sighed.

"It cannot have been Lucas," she said.

"Whisst now," he said. "I wish you would go back inside that tent."

"I warrant you do, but unless you mean to pick me up and carry me there, you will not get your wish. So, talk to me, Hugo," she added softly. "Explain."

It was the first time she had called him Hugo in private, but it felt comfortable to do so, and right.

"I should not discuss the matter with you at all, let alone explain why I feel as I do," he said. "It is wrong to meddle in another man's affairs."

She frowned, thinking back to what she had said before he stalked out. " 'Tis the marriage settlements, then. That I did not sign any made you angry. Moreover, you had just said that I should not have signed them if I did not want to marry Reid."

"Let be, lass. Do as I bid you now, and get back inside."

"Nay, then, I won't."

When he moved to stand, she said, "Stay where you are, sir. You cannot come the husband over me only to force my obedience. You say you will not meddle in another man's affairs. But whose business is it if not mine and my husband's?"