When Stars Align || G. Lafayette

Chapter 16

A small smile began to form on my blue lips, and I ran a hand through my free hair, having lost my hat many miles back, and focused all my energy left on the house far before me. The stars had aligned for me that night. I spurred York on, though he no doubt had no idea why, but the less time it took us to reach the house, the better chance we had at making it through the night. The unfortunately long minutes it took us to cross the short distance were no surprise; York was, at that point, weaker than me. Yet, he carried on, and yet, we made it to the doorstep.

I glanced to my left at the glass doors alight with the fire reflected in them from the fireplace. Still, the fireplace was a few rooms off, and I could see no movement behind those doors. Could the resident be asleep?

I dismounted York and walked around him to the door, and peering into the entryway, I instantly recognized the estate. The same place I’d spent a few nights on my trip from home to New York over a year ago. While I remembered him, I wasn’t sure he’d remember me. I tugged York a bit closer to me by his reigns, hoping to get him as close to the white pillars of the front steps as possible. I glanced in, looking left and right, but as I saw no motion, I lead my horse a bit away, walking toward the side of the house to first see if my efforts were in vain.

We walked a bit down the snow-laden path, and I looked through the frozen window panes to look for any sign of inhabitance other than the candles, and stopped in front of the front window of a wing of the house. I didn’t realize, though, how tight I was holding York’s reigns as I subconsciously pulled them closer to me, unintentionally pushing York into a dead rosebush. That was when I realized my mistake.

York reared on his hind legs, neighing loudly as my eyes widned and I jumped back, doing everything I could to get his attention and calm him, waving my arms wildly as I did my best not to come into the path of one of his flailing limbs. Finally, he calmed down, taking all four feet back to the ground, and I breathed a sigh of relief, my heart still pounding. I ran a hand down his neck, and he bowed his head, allowing me to press my forehead to his nose, and I closed my eyes.

“It is alright. You are alright. We are going to get warm, d’accord?” I murmured to him, breathing deeply as he whinnied softly, and I smiled as I again took him by his reins, leading him to the door once again. Whether or not someone was home, it was my only chance and I’d be damned if I didn’t take it.

I let go of York’s reins as I climbed the short stairs to the door, and letting out a heavy sigh, I raised my hand and lifted the heavy brass knocker, letting it fall against the door with a hollow thud. My heart pounded in my chest as I waited hopelessly for an answer.

I had no reason to believe he would be up at that hour to open the door, much less let me in his house, but it was my only option for miles. And I didn't intend on dragging York through any more of that blizzard. I was just about to turn away, to find somewhere to go and hide away from the wind that nipped at my cheeks, when the door swung open with a loud creak.

There he stood, in all his magenta-coated glory, a tired expression sitting under his mess of curls. He dragged his hand through his hair as his eyes finally met mine, and a lazy grin broke through his lips.

"Y/N Legrand. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

Within ten minutes, he’d arranged for York to be taken to his stables, and ushered me inside without a second thought, immediately getting any and all blankets he could find. Honestly, the reaction couldn’t have been more of a surprise, with my having known him for hardly four days a year ago, but I couldn’t complain.

Finally, I sat with him at a dining table with a mug of cocoa in front of a furnace as he questioned me about my past year. He refused any questions about himself, because apparently “it didn’t get too eventful on the farm.” And so I filled him in on the past year of my life, omitting an unfortunate number of details.