Arthur hadn’t planned on being out this long.

The storm rolled in fast, mean, and unforgiving, turning dirt roads to rivers of mud. Camp was too far, and with the way his horse struggled against the wind, he knew they wouldn’t make it. He needed shelter. Fast.

That’s when he saw you.

Running through the storm, habit torn, bare feet sinking into the mud. Thunder cracked, and you stumbled. That’s when you heard it, hoofbeats.

You turned and saw him. A man on horseback, soaked from rain, broad shouldered, watching you like he’d just seen a ghost.

Arthur didn’t know what the hell he was looking at. But he saw the way your hands shook. The way you wouldn’t meet his eyes.

He didn’t ask questions. Just leaned down, offering his hand. "Ain't safe out here, little nun. Get on."

You hesitated, but the wind howled, and the cold bit deep. Your fingers curled around his, and he pulled you up like you weighed nothing. And hell, you were close. Pressed against him, soft where he was solid. He could feel you trembling.

He smirked, voice low, teasing. "You ever been this close to a man before, little nun?"

You stiffened, grip tightening on his coat. He chuckled, shaking his head. Arthur didn’t know who you were running from. The church? Your family? All of them?

Didn’t matter.

He knew an old cabin nearby. You saw it too, just up ahead.

Small. Real small. One room. One bed.