Chapter 11
“Stop.”
“We are nearly there.”
“You’re dragging your foot.”
“I have always had an inelegant walk.”
“Not like that.”
“Keep moving.”
He planted his good boot and refused.
The sudden resistance almost toppled them both.
Henrietta glared. “What are you doing?”
“Rest.”
“We cannot.”
“Ten breaths.”
“You will stiffen.”
“So will you.”
“I am already stiff.”
“That was nearly a joke.”
“It was entirely a joke.”
“Bad one.”
“Your standards have become demanding for a man who married for money.”
The sentence slipped out.
Calvin went rigid against her.
Henrietta closed her eyes.
There it was again.
The thing beneath everything.
She expected anger.
Instead, Calvin said, “Yes.”
Only that.
The word hurt more than anger would have.
He looked toward the dark shape of shelter. “Eight breaths left.”
Henrietta counted them.
Then they moved again.
The overhang was not a cave. It was barely a hollow where an old fracture in the mountainside had created a shallow roof of stone. Snow had drifted across the entrance but had not filled it completely. Beneath the rock, the ground was hard, dry in patches, and blessedly free of wind.
Henrietta crawled inside first and pulled Calvin after her.
When they were finally beneath the stone, she collapsed against the wall.
Calvin lay on his back, eyes shut.
The sudden quiet was startling. The storm still roared beyond the lip of the shelter, but the rock muffled it. Their breathing sounded loud and animal in the confined space.
Henrietta removed her gloves.
Her fingers were pale and clumsy.
She shoved them beneath her arms.
Calvin opened one eye. “That bad?”
“No.”
“Lie better.”
“You first.”
He exhaled slowly.
For a while neither spoke.
Henrietta knew they should keep moving, keep rubbing circulation into hands and feet, perhaps try to build some kind of barrier at the entrance. But her body had begun to tremble so violently her teeth clicked.
She hated that trembling.
It felt like surrender.
Calvin pushed himself upright on one elbow.
“What?”
“Your coat.”
“What about it?”
“Open it.”
Henrietta stared.
His expression grew impatient, but not embarrassed. “You’re shaking.”
“So are you.”
“Not as badly.”
“That is because I am warmer.”
“You’re not.”
“How would you know?”
“You’re wearing my clothes. I know exactly how much warmth they hold.”
Despite herself, Henrietta laughed weakly.
Calvin seemed surprised by the sound.
Then his face tightened.
He shifted the injured leg carefully. “Listen to me. You should leave at first light.”