How the Dukes Stole Christmas by Tessa Dare

Author:Tessa Dare
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2019-09-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Four

Of course there were only three horses. Sinclair wasn’t counting on her presence.

As there were no other horses in the stables—her family took them all when they departed—four people would have to mount three horses. Mathematics had never been her strongest subject. She was much more suited to history and science and languages, and yet even she knew the numbers didn’t compute. Two of them would ride one horse.

Annis knew that fate was to be hers even before she felt the duke’s gaze land on her. She could do nothing more than squeak as his hands circled her waist and lifted her, plopping her on the saddle. He swung up behind her and gathered the reins.

She rode wedged snugly against him. There was no other choice, but that did not stop the awkward embarrassment. No man had ever held her this closely. Especially no man like him. A man that affected her senses.

Cold wrapped around them. If they took to a path it was not in evidence, eaten up in swirls of wind and writhing snow flurries.

The snow fell in a deluge, pelting hard at the exposed skin of her face and neck, heedless of her hood. She would be quite wet by the time she reached his home. That made her squirm uneasily. She’d read plenty of accounts of people who died when exposed too long to conditions like this.

Despite the elements, they forged ahead, traversing at a steady clip. Even with warm pinpricks of embarrassment rushing over her from the proximity of the duke’s body to her own, she could not stop shivering. Her fur-trimmed cloak had been perfectly suitable in Town, but it wasn’t enough to ward off this Highland wind.

Sinclair muttered something and pulled her against his chest. She’d been trying so valiantly to keep herself from leaning back into him. Now he brought her in closer, opening his greatcoat to snuggle her inside, sharing his warmth.

She parted her chattering teeth. “You don’t have to—”

“Quiet,” he growled.

She sniffed. “You don’t have to be rude—”

“You’re shaking so hard I can hear your teeth clacking.”

She brought her gloved hands to her mouth and blew air into them, trying to do what she could to warm herself. They continued on through the winter night. It was almost eerily quiet, only the murmur of snow and the whisper of wind and hooves lifting and falling.

She thought about her family. They were undoubtedly tucked in for the night at some inn, warm under the covers. Her sisters were likely squabbling, the sheer number of them forcing them to share beds. She knew they were loathing every moment of that and not giving her a passing thought. Shaking off the grim reminder of the family who left her behind, she redirected her attention.

“How far is it?” When she’d made the trip with her family it had been by carriage and they had stuck to a road.

Sinclair didn’t reply. She sought to fill the silence. “Fenella,” she began. “She’s . . . interesting.

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