Chapter 1

December 1878

Life changes in a heartbeat.

One instant Violet plodded through the snowstorm, bent nearly double against the onslaught of fat flakes and icy pellets borne on a brutal wind.

Then, a heartbeat.

And in the next, she lay flat on her back, staring up into the purplish gray sky.

Dawn hadn’t arrived yet, which suited her. No doubt the day would prove to be gloomy, and the purple hues were surely far more attractive than whatever would follow.

Which she would witness from her indelicate position unless she formulated a way to regain her feet.

Reaching the schoolhouse early to prepare for the upcoming Christmas party should have been uncomplicated. A short walk through the snow, and a few quiet hours to work on decorations. She wanted to show her competence so Wylder would see their new schoolteacher cared enough to work diligently to make their holiday gathering successful.

At present, the only ability she demonstrated was clumsiness. Lord, she hoped no one saw her tumble!

She rolled to her right side and kicked at the tangle of fabric around her ankles. The woolen scarf her sister had knitted for her—now a soggy mess—nearly strangled her so she tugged it out from beneath her shoulder and put one hand down. She’d landed in a snowbank, so her arm sank in up to her elbow. When she pulled it back, snow remained between her coat and shirtwaist sleeve. At this point it was not her biggest challenge.

This must be how a turtle feels when it’s tipped over.

Violet wiggled to the left, then to the right, and rocked herself back and forth until she tilted to one side far enough that she managed to sit upright. Again, she untangled her skirt from her legs. She dug her boots into the snow and leaned forward to rise halfway before her heel slipped on the ice and she fell face first into the white mound beside her.

At least now she wasn’t on her back.

Colder and wetter than ever, she had little hope of getting up.

Footsteps crunched in the snow near her head.

Strong hands grabbed her upper arms and pulled her out of the snow. She was turned and lifted by someone who smelled of wood smoke and pipe tobacco.

Liberation from her misery came in the span of a heartbeat or two—maybe three, at most. She wiped a gloved hand across her eyes, clearing the snow from her face so she could see.

Her heart skipped a beat when she gazed at the chiseled chin of the man who held her. He looked down with concern in his eyes.

“Can you stand on your own?” Warm breath fanned her cheek. Cradled in his embrace, she nearly forgot her unfortunate state of affairs: on a deserted, dark street, soaking wet and defenseless, with a stranger. “Let’s get you out of this snowbank and we’ll test those legs.”

“That would be nice, thank you.”

He carried her until they were clear of the icy patch that had laid her low and then stomped out a small circle to give her a place to stand. She instantly missed the warmth and security of his arms when he put her down.

“How does that feel?” He kept a hand on her shoulder. “Legs all right? Everything else? You took quite a tumble. And not once, but twice.”

She didn’t need to be reminded that she’d flopped around in the snow like a graceless seal. And this man had apparently witnessed the entire spectacle.

If she weren’t so miserable, she would be embarrassed.

That would come later. Now, her teeth began to chatter.

“I’m f-fine, t-thank you.” She wanted to say more, to show her gratitude, but speaking didn’t come easy.

“You’re not as fine as you think you are. You’re probably soaked to the skin, and near frozen. Wait here while I fetch your things.”

Her things? Her mind refused to work properly. She watched as he turned and headed back to the pile of snow that had been her temporary prison. He leaned down, stuck an arm into the snowbank, and pulled something out. When he shook it, she recognized her book bag. It had been a going-away gift from her sister Pansy.

A length of red ribbon that would look lovely draped above the schoolhouse door trailed from it like an icy tail.

The bag didn’t interest her as much as the man did. Tall, with a broad back and long legs that clambered over snowdrifts as if they were anthills, his rugged good looks appealed, even in the darkness. He wore a thick brown coat and a wide-brimmed hat. He had dark hair, although in the pre-dawn snowy gloom she could be mistaking brown for black. Whatever it was, glistening strands peeked out above his coat collar.

He pulled one of her gloves from the patch of ice that had dumped her onto her face. She hadn’t realized she’d lost it until she saw the scrap of wool dangling from his fingertip like a tiny, black spot against a field of white.

He returned to her side but didn’t offer the possessions. He tucked her back in the crook of one arm and placed the other arm around her shoulders. Of course, had the circumstances been different, she would have balked at the impropriety. Instead she leaned against him, grateful for the warmth and shelter of his form.

“We need to get you inside. The schoolhouse is close. Do you think you can walk? I can carry you if need be.”

Tempting.

But out of the question. She was not some fainting female who required rescuing.

Indignation sent a hot spark up her spine so she straightened, shook her head, and said, “No, thank you. I am perfectly f-f-fi—I a-am—” Her teeth nipped the end of her tongue. Violet raised a hand and covered her mouth. “Oh!”

His gaze was sharp. “You are freezing.”

She stared into his eyes but didn’t comprehend his meaning. Freezing? Yes, she had been cold, but the sensation lessened with each breath. Everything about her grew dim, including the snow. Her heartbeat slowed. Snowflakes blended into a white blanket, one she no longer feared falling into.

Violet met the stranger’s gaze. His eyes, like his hair, were dark. They might be the perfect place to drown if she were ever in a position to swim again.

Although right now, settling into the snowy drape closing them off from the rest of the world seemed the best option as her heart stuttered and breathing became a hardship.

“Stay with me. Don’t go to sleep, stay with me. Damn, but we’ve got to get you warm.”

He tore open his coat. A button flew off into the snow. Inside the garment, a soft fur lining over deep blue flannel covered the man’s broad chest.

The stranger lifted her into his arms again, pulled her close against his body, and wrapped his coat around her. Then he strode through the snowstorm. Violet wondered if this is what it felt like to fly.

He tightened his grip on her, sending her face flush against his chest. Dry, warm fabric brushed her skin.

His heart beat a steady cadence beside her cheek. Then the world, with its swirling whiteness, suddenly went black—and Violet welcomed the darkness.