Page 49 of The Storybook Hero
He found a small clearing and unharnessed the pair, cutting down the long reins to leave a makeshift arrangement for riding. After hacking off a number of pine boughs to help disguise thesleigh’s presence, he tossed a folded blanket over each horse to serve as a saddle and split up their supplies. Emma was put on his mount, while Nicholas went up with Octavia. Alex’s hand lingered on her knee after helping her arrange her skirts for riding astride.
“You show a pretty ankle,” he murmured.
“My ankle, Mr. Leigh, is encased in a felt boot the size of a small, furry animal.”
“Well, I have no doubt it would be a very pretty ankle if it were not.”
“We are wasting precious time off, sir. Let us be off,” she said, trying to sound stern.
“An excellent idea—” He stopped abruptly as a snowflake drifted down onto his cheek. Looking up at the ominous grey sky his lips compressed in a tight line.
“Damn.”
It was only a dusting,but the powdery flakes had been accompanied by a decided drop in temperature. The towering trees had, at least, provided a measure of protection from the gusting winds, though it was hard going through the slap of branches and tangle of undergrowth. It was difficult to see as well, the thick canopy of needles blocking out much of the pale light. Finally, when it was too dark to continue, Alex chose a spot by a large fallen tree to stop for the night.
Emma and Nicholas were sent to collect firewood while Octavia searched for a source of fresh water. In the meantime, Alex set to making some sort of shelter from the elements. A number of large pine boughs angled across the downed trunk created a tent-like structure that was actually quite snug inside,once a goodly pile of dead needles had been spread over the frozen ground.
A blazing fire at the narrow entrance also added a measure of warmth, enough that the blue tinge to Emma’s mouth slowly disappeared and she was able to move her lips. The lad had also been suffering from the cold, though he had tried manfully to suppress his chattering teeth. But they refrained from any complaints as they sat huddled under the extra blankets, even when supper turned out to be no more than a cup of weak tea and a meager portion of cold meat and bread. Nor did they argue when Octavia insisted that they take their blankets and retreat into the depths of the shelter. In fact, they appeared too exhausted to do much else than crawl inside and wrap themselves tightly in their coverings as bidden.
“You must lie close together,” called Alex. On catching the look on Octavia’s face, he dropped his voice. “Highly improper, I know, but shared bodily warmth will help stave off the cold.”
“Well, I suppose you know a thing or two about that,” she murmured under her breath.
His lips twitched. “I am glad to see the hardships of the day haven’t dulled your sharp claws, my tiger. The time you cease your cutting set-downs is the time I shall be truly worried that the strain has been too much.”
She leaned back against the rough bark and swirled the dregs of her cup. “I imagine my choice of words is the least of our worries. We are not in a terribly good position, are we, Mr. Leigh?”
His amused expression quickly disappeared. “No, we are not.” He added another branch to the fire and stared at the leaping flames. “We have only enough food for another day or two, our horses are nags and I doubt the children can endure too much exposure to the elements. And if it begins to snow inearnest….” He let his words trail off. After a moment he cleared his throat. “I’m sorry to have involved you and Emma in this.”
She essayed a tight smile. “What? And deprive Emma of matching the exploits of her favorite heroine?”
That drew a low chuckle.
“And besides, the alternative was hardly more appealing. So don’t rake yourself over the coals. You have handled things quite credibly up to now, and I’m sure you will find a way to bring us all through to safety.”
Alex’s jaw tightened. “You may find yourself sadly disappointed. I should warn you, not many people have any faith in my abilities.”
“The only important opinion is your own, sir.” She drew a deep breath. “Now, perhaps we should?—”
He looked at her in some amazement. “You are truly remarkable, Miss Hadley. I know of no other female who could sit calmly in the middle of the wilds and discuss how to save her neck, with nary a sob or shriek of remonstrance.”
“I am used to adversity. And if my neck is to be saved, I have long ago learned that I had better figure out how to do it. Sobs and shrieks are all very well for fine ladies, who can afford such delicate sensibilities. I cannot.”
He poked at the glowing coals, suddenly filled with a desire to know more about her life. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why are you so used to adversity? Tell me something of your family, your circumstances.”
Octavia’s hands tightened around her cup. “It’s hardly an interesting story. Or a unique one. In fact, my situation is most likely not a great deal different than yours—parents poor as church mice, no inheritance, no influential relatives, that sort of thing.”
“Nevertheless, I should like to hear it.”
She had never spoken to anyone about growing up an only child with a scholarly father who had little connection with the realities of the outside world and had been blithely unaware that butchers and candlemakers expected payment, that thatched roofs leaked, that housekeepers cost a salary. But for some reason—she wasn’t quite sure how—he managed to coax a brief account of her history, ending with the unfortunate contretemps that had precipitated her journey to Russia.
When he had finished laughing over that, she rearranged the blanket around her shoulders and recomposed her own twitching lips. To her surprise, she felt better for talking about things that had seemed too painful to ever share. “And now you, sir.”
He looked a bit startled. “Me?”
