Sam wasn't sure how long he'd been riding when he saw a shadow through the whirling snow. Steering his horse in that direction, he held on to the hope that it was Ivy. The wind pulled at his hair and nipped at his cheeks. His hat had flown off ages ago, no match for the sudden gales whipping across the snow.

"Ivy?" he called out, but he wasn't sure if she could hear him over the loud whining of the storm. A few moments later, he reached her. She was on her feet, leading the horse next to her, her face and nose reddened from the cold. Whatever hat she'd worn had disappeared in the storm just like his, and her blonde hair whipped around her in the wind, large chunks having come undone.

She swayed on her feet as she looked up at him. "S... Sam?"

He wanted to get on the ground and embrace her, but with the snow and slippery grounds, he didn't trust his ability to get back on the horse, so instead he held his arm out. "Come. Get on the horse with me."

Once she was in his lap, her legs to one side, he was shocked to feel how cold she was. Needing to warm her, he unbuttoned his greatcoat and wrapped it around both of them as well as he could, then grabbed the reins of both her horse and his own before starting the trudge in the direction he thought—hoped—the gamekeeper's cabin lay.

"Why were you not on your horse?" he asked, his mouth by her ear. It was like an icicle against his lips. He leaned his cheek against the side of her head, hoping to heat her up.

"Too cold," she mumbled. "Had to ride straddling it and my skirts didn't cover my legs fully."

That made sense. Her stockings would not have been enough against this weather. She was obviously cold and exhausted, so he didn't ask her anything more. Instead, he focused on finding his way while she leaned her head against him. The snow and ice gathered on her melted against his chest underneath his greatcoat, dampening his shirt. But he didn't care. All that mattered was to get her to safety.

Relief washed over him when they finally reached a cottage on the outskirts of the woods. He hadn't been certain he got the direction right, but he had. There was no way they would make it back to the main house, and he would not try with Ivy in this condition.

There was a small stable with fresh hay and blankets, so he quickly rubbed the horses down, put blankets over them and made sure they had drinking water, before grabbing the knapsack with food and leading Ivy inside the cottage. It was small but clean, with a main living area downstairs and a kitchen off to the side. Stairs lead up to where he expected there to be two bedchambers, judging from the size.

With limited time and resources, they would be best off in one room where they could get comfortable and have a fire to heat the room. After a moment's hesitation, Sam brought them upstairs to the main bedchamber. If they had to spend the night, it made sense to do so in the room with a bed. The bedchamber was nothing like the opulent rooms at Winterbourne Hall, the furniture plain but in good condition. A bed stood against the wall opposite the fireplace, and a chaise longue sat below a window. The chaise looked oddly out of place, being of much better quality than everything else, its upholstering a rich green pattern. It must have been a hand-me-down from the main estate.

Sam quickly found some firewood and kindling, and it wasn't long before he got a fire going. Ivy still stood in the middle of the room as if in a daze. Taking her hands in his, he pulled their gloves off. His were already warm again after working on the horses and fire, but hers were cold as ice. Holding them between the palms of his hands, he willed them to heat. She was far too cold.

Her body shuddered. Worried, he put his hands on her shoulders and immediately felt how damp her coat was. His shirt was no better. The snow lingering from outside was melting and the skirts of her dress were soaking from walking through the snow for god knew how long.

He cursed. "We need to get you out of these wet clothes before you catch a cold."

She said nothing, might not be able to through her clattering teeth, but she nodded. Her fingers were stiff and red when she tried to unbutton the jacket, so he helped her. The melting snow seemed to have gone through every layer as her dress clung to her chest with dark, damp patches. Trying not to feel like a lecher, Sam helped her out of the rest of her garments. Averting his gaze from her naked form, he wrapped her in a thick, dry blanket from the bed.

"Go stand by the fire," he instructed, and she did as told, still shivering, her fingers barely able to hold on to the blanket.

After hanging her damp clothes on a chair to dry, he walked over to her, noting that her teeth still clattered. She wasn't warming up quickly enough. Hell. He shrugged out of his greatcoat and began undressing.

Ivy turned to him, and her eyes widened. "Wh... What are you doing?"

"Two things. I'm getting out of my wet shirt, but I also need to make sure you heat up. Body heat can help. Skin to skin is best."

If such a thing was possible, her eyes seemed to widen even further. "N... naked?"

"It's better than us freezing to death." Well, it probably wasn't quite that bad. Not now they had a fire going, but it worried him how slowly she was heating.

Her eyes followed him as he removed his waistcoat and pulled the shirt over his head. He had to sit down on a chair to remove his boots. When he stood, his gaze met Ivy's large-eyed stare, and his hands stilled on the buttons of his trousers.

"I will leave them on if you prefer."

"If they're wet, you really ought to remove them." Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and there was a pinkness in her cheeks that looked like it might not come from the cold.

He hesitated. She was naked under that blanket. Maybe he'd deal with the soggy trouser legs. Grabbing another blanket, he walked over to her in front of the fire, noting how the flames painted her skin in a warm glow. Hopefully, that meant she was finally warming up. Not willing to take any chances, he pushed the chaise longue closer to the fireplace and sat down. He took Ivy's hand and pulled her down on his lap. Shifting the blankets so they enveloped both of them, he circled her with his arms, and she curled up against him. Her skin was cold against his, and he shivered. If he felt cold from holding her, how frozen must she feel?

Rubbing the icy skin on her arms, he held her close, hoping his body would heat hers. They stayed like that, letting their joined bodies warm up by the fire, while he slowly caressed her arms, then her back, before finally just letting her lean against him in a soft embrace. He tried not to think about the fact she had no clothes on. That a single layer of fabric lay between his stiff manhood—a stiffness which had nothing to do with the cold—and her.

"Once you've warmed up, I will go look for any spare clothes," he mumbled against the hair at the top of her head.

"Thank you." Her voice was quiet but alert, and she finally felt less like an icicle in his arms and more like a human. She lifted her head to look at him. "And thank you for finding me. How did you know where I was?"

"I didn't. When your sleigh didn't return, we went to search for you. We found Miss Burton and Mr Montgomery, and she sent me in your direction." He shifted slightly on the couch. Her pleasant weight on his lap was becoming more and more distracting.

"Well... Thank you." Her hand came to rest on his cheek, and he was glad to note it was no longer cold. "You braved the weather to save me."

"I would brave anything to keep you safe." The words escaped him before he could hold back, and a line appeared between her brows.

"I don't understand you." Her fingers trailed a path down along his jaw and down his neck, chasing goosebumps over his skin. "Why would you say something like that when you discarded me the first chance you got?"

He scoffed even as his heart beat loudly in his ears. By now she was warm and supple in his arms, and his mind was struggling to focus on their discussion. "I never discarded you."

"Your words and your actions are at odds."

That's because I'm fighting with every fibre of my being to stop myself from making you mine. Everything else be damned. His hand flexed on the now-warm skin above her hip as he kept his mouth shut.

"Sam?" Ivy's concerned voice brought his gaze back to hers. She was watching him with a slight frown. "Are you all right? You look as if you're in pain."

Her innocent question nearly made him laugh. Oh, he was in pain, all right. But not in the way she thought.

"I'll get off you," she continued. "I must be too heavy."

A groan escaped him when she wriggled in his lap and her warmth rubbed against him. Her eyes widened.

"I'm so sorry!" She slid off him to kneel next to him on the chaise longue. The blanket covering her had slipped half off her shoulder, showing off a perfectly rounded breast illuminated by the crackling fire. "Are you in a lot of pain?"

"Excruciating." He forced himself to look away from the tempting sight. Glaring up at the white-painted ceiling, he rather thought he deserved a reward for his restraint.

"Is there anything I can do to help?"

A myriad of lewd thoughts entered his mind, but he shook his head. "It's fine. Really. Let me find some dry clothes."

She thankfully pulled the blankets tighter around herself again as he forced himself up from the chaise longue. He dug through a clothes chest, stood over in a corner of the room and found two linen shirts. Donning one, he handed the other to Ivy.

"It's the best we can do for now, but it will keep you warm and dry together with the blankets." Wanting to give her some privacy to dress, he walked towards the door. "I will go downstairs to the kitchen and see if I can make us some tea. It'll heat us up nicely."

Not that he needed to be heated any further. Having had a naked Ivy on his lap had left him feeling hotter than any fire. It was embarrassing. He had only wanted to warm her up. Make sure she was safe. And here he was, thinking the most lecherous thoughts about all the things he wanted to do to that body now he knew she was safe. He was a grown man, not an inexperienced lad, and yet something about Ivy broke through his resolve like it was nothing.

Leaving—nay, fleeing—the room, he made his way to the kitchen in the darkening cottage. Evening approached and what little light had made it past the storm was quickly diminishing. He was well-versed in a kitchen since he sometimes prepared easy meals for Lord Winter when the cook was off, so he quickly found a kettle and with some snow from outside, he soon had water boiling.

When he returned upstairs with a tray carrying a teapot and two cups of tea not much later, Ivy stood in front of the fire, her hands held out towards the flames. The white shirt she wore was far too big and its tails reached her knees. Somehow, the simple garment actually made him want her more, not less. Knowing she was naked under that one layer of clothing was worse. He wanted to unwrap her like a present at Christmas. But he would appreciate her more than anything else he had ever been gifted. He would take his time to explore every inch, every freckle on her skin, every—

He cut his thoughts short before they could go too much further. She was under his care and he must keep her safe until he could return her to Winterbourne Hall. Her reputation was at stake simply from being lost, but he suspected Winterbourne had covered for her, and as long as those few who knew she was missing kept their mouths shut, she should be fine.

"Oh, tea! How lovely." She smiled at him and something lurched inside his chest.

No, the greatest threat to her reputation was not back at the main estate. It was right here. With him and his wicked heart.

~~~~~~