Page 12 of The Milliner and the Griffin Rider

Although the rain still obscured the world in front of them, the direction of the captain’s steps told her he was heading for the barracks of the griffin squad. He had chosen to take her back to his own home rather than disturb the Duke.

Chloe knew that fact should bother her greatly. But safe in the captain’s arms, she couldn’t muster the proper outrage or despair. The reality of the storm had eclipsed all her plans, and she cared only about retreating out of the rain and getting warm.

She groaned at the appealing thought, and the arms tightened again. The captain’s head lowered toward hers.

“Are you hurt?” he called over the storm.

She shook her head before the bruise on her hip made her wince, reminding her of its presence.

“Not badly,” she called back. “I fell, but I didn’t break anything.”

He growled too quietly for her to hear, the rumble in his chest the only thing giving him away.

Oh dear, she thought. He’s going to be more upset with me than ever.

But even that didn’t muster the expected discomfort. They should reach shelter at any moment, and that was all that mattered.

Six

The barracks loomed in front of them without warning. Harrison didn’t slow, striding up to the door and kicking it open.

“You really need a sturdier door,” Chloe murmured. The captain merely shook his head, not looking at her.

The door had burst open to crash against the wall, and cries broke out inside as the two of them appeared on the threshold, bringing driving rain with them. They entered a large, communal room where several griffin riders sat around an enormous fireplace. They all jumped to their feet at sight of their captain, however, and as Harrison strode inside, he called a rapid string of orders.

One of the men sprang forward to close the door, dragging something in front of it to secure it in place, and another man disappeared down a hallway in search of blankets. Yet another headed toward what was apparently a kitchen of sorts.

Harrison strode directly to the fireplace, only stopping once he held her as close as possible to the warm flames. Chloe gave a shuddering sigh, her shivers finally slowing now that the storm had been shut outside.

With water no longer pouring over her face, she looked up and met Harrison’s eyes. Her breath caught, her heart stopping with it. He was looking down at her, his face barely inches from hers, and the storm was no longer outside but in his eyes. He made no move to put her down.

“What were you doing out there?” he demanded, his voice low but firm and commanding.

“I was walking. The storm came in so quickly. When the rain started, I ran for the closest shelter, which was the manor.” She met his eyes, reminding herself that each sentence was true on its own. The musky smell of griffin pervaded the barracks, but not even a griffin could fault her for speaking an untruth.

The captain held her gaze, the silence lengthening between them as the storm spread from his eyes across his face. But a lingering shiver shook her, and he finally broke eye contact.

Dumping her on her feet, he stepped back, but when she staggered, his hand whipped out to catch her elbow, keeping her steady until she regained her balance. The man who had gone in search of blankets returned with an armful of them, and she recognized him as Fletcher.

“Why, if it isn’t Chloe!” he exclaimed in apparent delight at the sight of her. “I almost didn’t recognize you under all that water.” He chuckled, and she managed a weak smile in return, not wanting to think about how she must appear.

Harrison strode over to a door and pulled it open, gesturing inside. Chloe followed him, peering into a storeroom half filled with various supplies.

“You can change in here,” the captain said, carefully not looking at her. “I’m afraid we have no females to assist you, so you’ll have to do the best you can on your own. Remove everything but your simplest shift and wrap yourself well in one of these.” He threw one of the blankets into the room. “Bring your gown out, and we’ll lay it out to dry.” He threw an uncertain glance at the remains of her sodden hat which she had just removed from her head.

“Don’t worry.” She managed a laugh. “I’m perfectly aware that the hat can’t be salvaged.”

A ghost of a smile crossed his face before he nodded and retreated, calling yet more orders to his men that she didn’t catch. She shut herself in the storeroom, relieved to discover it wasn’t as dark as she’d feared. A small window high up in one wall let in the weak afternoon light, although the storm kept it dim. But at least she could see as her fumbling fingers peeled off her gown and petticoat, leaving only her thin shift.

She hung both garments over a couple of handy chests, abandoning the destroyed hat and slippers beside them. She really should have stopped to put on her boots before fleeing the store. Although even the boots might not have survived the downpour and mud.

As soon as she had shed the wet garments that weighed her down, she wrapped herself in the blanket as instructed. Relief filled her at both its soft warmth and generous size. She was able to cocoon herself completely in it, only her head emerging.

Gripped by sudden bashfulness, only her desire for the fire drove her to open the storeroom door and emerge. To her relief, most of the riders had been banished—hopefully to some other fire within the barracks—leaving only Harrison and Fletcher. Fletcher was just finishing placing a tray on a small table by the fire, steam rising from the three cups of tea that lay on it.

Chloe hurried over with a glad cry, keeping careful hold of the blanket as she moved.

“Drink this, and you’ll soon be warmed up,” Fletcher said cheerfully. “The captain tells me you were caught out walking in the storm. These spring storms do come on fast!”