House of Trent 01.5 - His for Christmas Read Free

time.
    Through the thick curtain of snow, he saw a row of thatched buildings. “Looks like we’re in Postcombe.”
    “But why have we stopped?” she asked.
    “I have no idea.” He opened the door and stepped out. Wind whipped his hair against his cheeks and sent snow swirling around his legs.
    Joseph climbed down from the driver’s seat. “Sir,” he said, approaching Evan, “the weather’s worse. The wind’s picked up and the snowdrifts are growing quite deep. I wouldn’t want us to get stuck in a drift in the middle of nowhere. John here and I have agreed that it would be too dangerous to forge ahead. I suggest we spend the night at the inn and continue on in the morning.”
    For the first time in a long while, Evan took in his surroundings. Joseph was right. The snow was gathering in deep drifts in the street, and his boots were buried shin-deep.
    “Damn it,” he muttered. He’d wanted to safely deliver Amelia to her family tonight. But Joseph was right. It wouldn’t be wise to risk it. There wasn’t any lodging that would be appropriate for a lady of Amelia’s stature between here and Cheltham House.
    She had slipped out behind him, her brow furrowed. “What’s wrong?” Clearly, she’d been paying as little attention to the weather as he had.
    He turned to her, feeling the frown deepen between his brows. “I’m sorry,” he told her. “We’re going to have to spend the night here.”

Chapter Two
    B ack in the carriage, where she was hiding from the weather while Evan secured their rooms at the inn, Amelia sighed. Though she’d tried to be polite with him for the past hour, she’d been stewing in inner turmoil the whole time.
    He was insanely handsome. More handsome than she remembered, and she’d already remembered him as the handsomest boy she’d ever known. His proximity did all sorts of wicked things to her body, made her skin feel sensitive and achy, and an intense erotic need furled between her legs. Everything about him called to her on a most carnal level, from the way he spoke to her to the hardness of his body to the rugged planes of his face, and her desire had grown ever stronger as the miles had rolled beneath the wheels of the carriage.
    But her body didn’t know what her mind did—he was also the cruelest boy she’d ever known. He’d pretended to admire her, but in reality he’d scorned her behind her back. After she’d discovered that, she’d struggled for years with her self-confidence. Even now, after years of people admiring her beauty publicly, she sometimes still looked in the mirror and saw the pudgy, unattractive girl that Evan Cameron had seen for so many years.
    She’d resolved herself to spending another few hours with him in his carriage, then escaping to Cheltham House, hopefully not having to see him again before she returned to London next month. But now they were stranded in Postcombe, and politeness would dictate he dine with her and ensure her comfort at the inn, then break his fast with her in the morning before the additional two-hour—or longer, with snow on the road—drive to her father’s house. Which meant more interaction with him than she thought she could bear.
    She took a deep breath. She would bear it. First of all, she had no choice. Secondly, she was no simpering maiden. Not anymore.
    It was what it was. Neither of them could control the weather. She would endure this with as good a nature as she could muster.
    Evan slipped into the carriage beside her, his frown even deeper than it had been before. He wrestled with the wind over the door, finally gaining control and slamming it shut, before turning to her and saying in a low voice, “They haven’t any rooms.”
    Her eyes went wide. “What? Why not?”
    “The Duke of Dunsberg and his entourage were on their way to Oxford, and they were caught in the storm as well. They’ve taken all the available rooms.”
    “Oh no.”
    “The innkeeper did offer us lodgings, however…” Evan