She clung tightly to him and dug her fingers into his coat. Tears streamed down her cheeks, and her sobs filled the carriage as she finally released the tremendous loss and pain that had been buried for far too long.
“Stop the carriage,” she begged desperately between sobs. “Please, make it stop.”
“Scott!” Wilhelm bellowed, his voice cutting through the chaos. “Find the nearest coaching inn. Now!”
The carriage lurched and swayed, and the horses struggled against the wind and rain as they veered off the main road and sought shelter from the tempest.
Genevieve buried her face in Wilhelm’s chest. His comforting, masculine scent gradually pulled her back into the present.
“It is going to be all right,” he murmured, his voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. “It is all right. You are safe.”
His sincere, heartfelt words pierced through the remnants of her fear. She clung to his tear-stained shirt as her body trembled with relief.
“It’s all right,” he repeated, stroking her hair gently. “We are almost there.”
The steady rise and fall of his chest beneath her cheek was a peculiar comfort. The tears had stopped, but she was unable to shake off the lingering ache in her heart.
The carriage finally came to a halt, the sudden absence of movement a stark contrast to the raging storm outside.
Wilhelm gently pulled her back and gazed at her tenderly.
“Come, my darling,” he said softly, his voice a gentle caress. “Let us go inside.”
Chapter Fourteen
“Here we are,” Wilhelm mused, his gaze sweeping over the room. His arm was still wrapped firmly around Genevieve’s shoulders.
Genevieve stepped inside, her gaze immediately drawn to the inviting flames. Although their warmth provided a semblance of comfort, it did little to ease the unrest that still clung to her.
The room in the coaching inn was small and modestly furnished, the flickering candlelight casting long shadows over the worn wooden floorboards. A fire crackled in the hearth, casting a warm glow on the single, four-poster bed that dominated the space.
One bed. There is only one bed.
Wilhelm followed closely behind, his presence a quiet reassurance. He took her hand, his grip firm as he gently guided her further into the room.
“Come,” he said gently as he walked her towards the fireplace. “Warm yourself by the fire.”
He helped her settle into a plush armchair, its worn velvet cushions molding to her body. Genevieve’s gaze fixed on the dancing flames, and she extended her hands towards it as the warmth seeped into her bones.
Wilhelm poured a glass of water from the jug on the bedside table and offered it to her with a soft smile.
“Have a sip,” he instructed, his firm but encouraging voice a soothing balm to her frayed nerves. “It will help calm you down.”
The warmth of his touch sent a shiver down her spine, and she inhaled deeply, striving to regain her composure.
She sipped the water, the cool liquid soothing her dried throat. The storm outside had subsided, the rain now reduced to a gentle patter against the windowpanes. The silence in the room was broken only by the crackle of the fire and the beat of her heart.
“Thank you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Wilhelm’s lips curled into a soft smile. “You need not thank me, Genevieve,” he replied, his voice low and steady.
Genevieve’s gaze met his, the flickering flames reflected in his eyes.
“You must think me so weak,” she mumbled, her voice tinged with humiliation as she lowered her hands from the fire, the warmth still lingering on her skin.
“What utter nonsense. You are strong. Stronger than you realize, Genevieve,” he assured her, his voice a gentle caress. Taking one of her hands in his, he gazed into her eyes. “You have faced and overcome far worse.”
Genevieve’s heart ached at his words, a wave of gratitude washing over her.
