Shivering with cold, she closed her frozen fingers stiffly around the reins and drew the horse to a halt, fearing that she was lost. After long moments of indecision, she clambered down from the buggy and took the horse by the bridle, meaning to lead it home. At least by walking she could see the outline of the road.

Determinedly she hunched her shoulders and trudged forward through the dark night, fighting the bitter cold as well as alarm. Her face was numb, and she could no longer feel her fingers within her gloves or her feet inside her half-boots. Occasionally a gust of wind blew stinging, biting flakes right through her.

Once, the horse whinnied and began to resist her, pulling back as if he might bolt. Heather managed to regain control and urged him to the left, where the road seemed to fork.

Sometime later, however, she realized she must have made the wrong choice. She halted in her tracks, fighting the panic that gripped her throat. Every landmark looked unfamiliar, while walls of rock rose on either side of the narrowing trail. She had led them into a canyon.

Swallowing fear, she struggled to back the horse and turn the buggy around—and then gasped as an apparition appeared out of the black night.

The horseman came riding toward her, shrouded in white. When she recognized Sloan, her relief was so profound, Heather nearly sank to her knees.

He gave her no word of greeting as he dismounted, but treated her to total silence. Trembling, she stood to one side as he unharnessed her horse from the buggy and slapped its rump. It took off at a gallop.

In the dark, she couldn’t make out Sloan’s expression, but his grip on her arm was painful as he led her to his mount. She realized then why he hadn’t said a word. He was furious with her.

Sloan tossed her up on his horse and swung up behind her. Heather was grateful when his arms came around her shivering form.

“How did you m-manage to find me?” she asked weakly, her teeth chattering.

She wasn’t certain he would answer. “Pure luck,” he gritted out. “Your tracks had nearly disappeared. A few minutes more and I wouldn’t have been able to see them.”

“I l-lost my way.”

“You should have given the horse his head. He would have found the way home.”

“I didn’t t-think of t-that.”

“No, that’s the trouble, duchess. You didn’t think at all.” His tone was savage.

“I d-didn’t know it would sn-snow in late April!”

“Hell, it snows in the Rockies in June.”