For the first time since he’d sent her away, Chloe was warm. She yawned and stretched, hitting something hard.

She opened her eyes to find Richard looking down at her. Their eyes met, the conversation between them coming back to her. He had darker flecks of blue in his already dark blue eye, which right now was totally focused on her.

“Sorry about that. How’s the nose?”

The corner of his mouth lifted in a half-smile. “I daresay it looks better now than it did before.” He gingerly touched his nose.

While she wanted nothing more than to wile the day away with him, to get him to open up, she wanted to go home.

Chloe sat up. Home. But she’d meant Bainford. The thought had her chewing her lip. Was it disloyal to her family to want to stay? She snuck a look at him. Did he even want her to stay?

Garrick stuck his head inside the hut. “My arse is frozen. Shall we ride for home so I may find a wench to warm it?”

Outside, the morning sun turned everything into a magical land of snow and ice. Icicles hung from the trees, glinting in the light. The unblemished snow looked like the domain of an ice princess.

“It’s beautiful,” she said.

“Aye,” Richard said, but when Chloe looked at him, he wasn’t staring at the landscape—he was looking at her. All of a sudden, she was warm again as she tried her best to smooth her curls.

“Leave them be. I like the way they fly about.” He lifted her up on the horse and then settled in behind her, wrapping his cloak around both of them.

“I am glad you are well, mistress.” Garrick rode alongside them. “We were worried for you.” Then he smirked.

She looked back to see not only Garrick but most of the men with grins on their faces. “What’s so funny?” she asked.

“Falconburg is to the north and the west,” Richard said.

“I know that,” she retorted.

“You went south. Several miles south,” Garrick said between laughter. He and the men laughed, and even Richard joined in. But when Chloe laughed too, Garrick tilted his head. “You are not vexed?”

“I went the wrong way. I really am a Merriweather.” Seeing the confused looks, she elaborated: “All the Merriweathers are bad with directions.”

Garrick and the men looked lost, but she felt Richard shift behind her.

“I understand,” he whispered in her ear.

Chloe had made one decision during her time in the past: she was going to learn to ride. Horses were much faster than walking. Plus, they were cute.

Warm from Richard’s body and both their cloaks, she dozed on and off, reliving the major moment they’d shared, when he’d come for her and swept her up in his arms. It was almost enough to make her believe her fairy tale had come true.

The gruff man had apologized. And not some halfhearted apology she’d heard guys at school give their girlfriends when they just wanted to move on with their day, pretending whatever the issue was had never happened.

Now that she knew he was illegitimate, his overkill of temper made sense. She’d heard her granda talk about his time working in the casino in Vegas. How men defined themselves by their careers, or titles, or wealth. To a man who’d come from nothing, Bainford was something he’d do almost anything to hold on to.

All his stomping about had rubbed off on Chloe. She rather liked grumbling a bit. It was exhausting to pretend to be happy all the time. Nothing made her madder than when someone told her to smile. Or said, “You’d be so pretty if you smiled.” It made her want to punch them.

She could be perfectly content sitting in the library, reading or studying, and then someone would tell her to smile or ask what was wrong. As if they cared; they just wanted the drama. It made her want to throw something. But not a book. The horror. Throwing a book was as bad as the monsters who dog-eared the pages. She shuddered.

“Are you cold?” he said in her ear.

“I’m warm, just anxious to be home.”

When they crossed the drawbridge, she wanted to jump off the horse and run, but forced herself to stay seated and not startle the big black horse. All of the kids had lined up in the courtyard, waiting. When Richard lifted her off the horse, they swarmed her, talking at once, so many little voices that she couldn’t keep track of who was chattering.

“We thought you’d been eaten by a wolf.”

“Or gored by a boar.”

“Where did you go?”

“Did you stay with the faeries?”

“Why did you leave us?”

“My lord has been in a foul temper since you left us.”

That one penetrated her brain. “What? I didn’t leave. Lord Bainford threw me out.” While she’d forgiven him, she wasn’t above making him suffer and throwing him under the bus.

There were gasps and glares. “Nay.”

“Yes, it’s true.” Then she let it go, not willing to hold a grudge. “But he apologized and all is forgiven.”

As she said it, she looked at him with his hood down. His gaze found her and held, and the voices of the kids faded away until there was only them and the lightly falling snow. It was like one of those Hallmark movies her mom loved to watch over and over again.

A tug on her dress snapped her out of the moment.

“Come see. While you were lost, we cleaned the cellar and the chapel.”

Chloe hugged Garrick and smiled at the guardsmen. “Thank you for coming for me.”

When she hugged Richard, she found herself inhaling the scent of him, warm and comfortable, until someone cleared their throat.

They awkwardly pulled apart. As she let the children pull her along to show her what they’d accomplished, she touched his hand, feeling the calluses on his palm as she passed. “I hoped you would come find me.”

He grunted. From him, the grunt was almost a declaration. He might as well have broken out into song and dance.

She giggled, skipping along with the kids through the snow as they chattered away, dogs following along, tails wagging. And the cats? Two of them stood sentinel at the door, disdain on their cute little black faces. The only thing that would have made her homecoming even better was to have her family with her.

At the doorway, the dogs’ tails quit wagging, and they moved slowly, looking from one cat to the other. Chloe couldn’t hold in the laugh. Sara Beth’s cat ran their household. They had a labradoodle who was afraid of the cat, and the cat, Boots, knew it. She would walk up and stare at Pumpkin, and the dog would move back, sit, and wait, while Boots ate the dog’s food. Chloe was convinced the cat didn’t even like dog food and only did it to show she was boss.

Kind of like Richard. In her time, he wouldn’t be expected to be a grownup. But here? He was a man, had been for years. Responsible for a home and all who depended on him. He was so much more mature than her.

She wasn’t flighty, but she was only eighteen. The thought of running a household was foreign to her. Enough that she’d acted without thinking. It was hard living in the past. Actions had consequences. And not silly ones, like someone getting mad on social media, but life and death. In the future, she’d be more careful of what she did and said.

After praising the children for the great job they’d done cleaning, she ran into Tomas.

“My lord demanded a hot bath for you, mistress.” She followed him to the bathing chamber, pressing her lips together so she wouldn’t laugh at how serious he was. While she was waiting for the servants to finish filling the bath, a hearty stew and bread with butter, along with a goblet of spiced wine, was brought to her. Chloe sighed with pleasure as her belly grumbled.

After her bath, she’d changed into a tunic and hose and was curled up in a chair before the fire in Richard’s solar. There was a lady’s solar, but it still needed repairs.

Richard strode in, pleased to find Chloe in front of the fire. She belonged there, in his solar. His lady.

“I have wine.” She rose and poured him a goblet.

He groaned and joined her, lying down on the floor. The ache in his back was worse today. Lying on the floor eased the pain.

“Might you continue your labors?” He looked at her through a lock of copper hair that had fallen over his good eye. “The lads all say how nice it smells. The rushes are not slimy or smelly. Even the dogs smell nice.”

Chloe made a noise in the back of her throat, sounding rather a lot like him. Which pleased him more than he thought it would. Careful not to smirk, he waited for her answer.

“The girls bathed the dogs. I heard all about it.”

“Aye. The lads as well.”

“With threats of violence.” She stretched. “Yes. I’ll stay.” Then she curled her hair around a finger, over and over, bewitching him. “Richard?”

“Aye, love?”

“Has there been any word from Falconburg?”

Chloe had not forgiven him. She wished to go to her kin. To leave him.