Riding on top would allow him to better search the countryside for signs of Cathy—if she were out there alone in the wilderness.It would be bloody difficult to see anything, though. Night had fallen, and it was a black night with barely a sliver of moon notched into the darkness that wrapped around them. A thin coating of snow covered the ground, making everything black, white, or an eerie gray.His thundering heartbeat rhythmically pounded with each hoof printing the crunchy snow. He had requested the driver follow along the river, though he’d been incapable of giving voice to his worst fear: that Cathy may have fallen into the swollen, frigid waterway.Dread filling him like a vile poison, he kept remembering how pitiable she had looked when he last saw her, kept remembering how worried he had been about her, kept remembering that he’d wanted to draw her into his arms and comfort her. What if she had stumbled again?He was reminded, too, of that first evening he'd returned to Ramseyfield and of the lone young woman pushing through the snowdrifts that wretched night.
What do You think about Christmas Brides (Three Regency Novellas)?
