Page 9

CHAPTER 9

E ven as the world remained chilled, the days and weeks melted into each other. Despite her pledge to resist Damien’s charm, her defiance melted as surely as the spring snow. He was now Damien, not Rourke, as they enjoyed more walks, more fireside chats and more snowman building contests, with a kiss always as the prize, no matter who won. It was beautiful, enjoyable and unwise . This winter wonderland was not reality.

“Are you listening? The sleigh bells are ringing.”

Sarah did not turn from the window, not as Damien came behind her, so close she could feel his warm breath on her neck. She edged back, a whisper of a move with roaring ramifications. Despite her best efforts, she had softened towards him.

“It’s a beautiful sight, isn’t it?” he whispered. “Whether you admit it or not, you are happy tonight. Walk with me.” He held out his hand.

Fate help her, she took it.

They stepped into a world alight with beauty. Under the full moon, the snow sparkled like a blanket of diamonds, a silvery sea on the glistening lane. Snow sunk softly under her feet, as they walked through the cool, crisp night. The biting cold of the winter’s crescendo had lessened, and under their thick wool outerwear, it was pleasant.

Damien linked arms with her, drawing her near. “So you don’t get cold,” he murmured.

Next to him she was as toasty as a fireplace. “Of course.” Now she moved just a little closer, so he wouldn’t get cold, of course. The walked step in step, every movement a match.

Including each other.

Was she considering a match? The first week, she would have said absolutely not, the second week, probably no. The third and fourth week, perhaps. And now?

The thought became more alluring with every winter walk.

Yet challenges remained. She would not accept anything less than a love match, and Damien made no mention of love, despite repeated assertions they would wed. Yet at times, his gaze showed something stronger, just like the emotions she couldn’t face within herself.

She glanced at Damien. He gave a lopsided grin, and all fortitude vanished like snow in the spring sun. Was it possible to forge a destiny here?

“You are entirely too serious for a walk in a winter wonderland.”

Despite herself, she smiled. “Am I now? I didn’t realize there was protocol for joviality.”

“Dictated by the patronesses of Almack’s themselves.” He winked. “You shall enjoy yourself, as you have this entire journey.”

“Untrue,” she exclaimed. “I have not enjoyed every moment.”

“Haven’t you?” He crossed well-muscled arms across his broad chest. Back in London she’d wondered how he managed to stay fit, yet here in the country, his many physical activities were obvious. A man of his position and wealth had no need to do anything physical, yet he said he enjoyed it.

She also enjoyed watching him, even if he always managed to notice her perusal. In truth, she’d enjoyed nearly every moment of her time here. “I did not enjoy stubbing my toe two Thursdays ago.”

“How dastardly.” His voice deepened. “You must tell me of the offending foe, and I shall vanquish him.”

She bit her lip to keep from smiling. “It may be a little difficult to vanquish the wall.”

“Still, I shall attempt it.” The amusement in his eyes faded, replaced by a somber promise. “I would defend you against anything.”

The breath froze in her throat. For a moment, he was a true hero, promising to defend the woman he loved. As already tumultuous emotions tumbled, she fought to remember his true motivations. He wanted her because of her connections, position and suitability.

This wasn’t a love match.

She needed a distraction. When he turned to point to the new bird singing a love song, she swiped her hand over some icy bushes, gathering snow. She swiftly patted it into a small ball.

He turned to her. “What do you think abo–”

The snowball shattered against him in a hundred glittering flakes.

Ever-so-slowly, he picked off the snow, pretending to grasp each snowflake one by one. She laughed as the mood lightened once more. When he tossed his own snowball, she only laughed more.

“How will you respond to that?” he challenged.

Clearly, he thought he was dealing with some timid society miss. She grasped another scoopful of snow. “The reward is a kiss, I assume?”

“Of course.”

As they tossed snowballs and then kisses in the glistening lane, she’d never enjoyed a time more.

His plan was proceeding splendidly. Despite her reluctance, Sarah hadn’t been able to hide her happiness. It sparkled in every smile, rang in every laugh, glimmered in blue eyes. As for him, their time together had been more than enjoyable.

He loved it.

He’d told himself he chose Sarah for the typical reasons, her temperament, personality and suitability, yet every minute in her presence brought something more. The urge to explore increased every day, even as their time dwindled. Much of the snow had melted, allowing the passage to be cleared. Just this morning, he received a letter from Bradenton, announcing the duke’s imminent arrival.

He had to ensure Sarah was his before then.

Now they sat by the fire in a garnet-colored drawing room, sipping mugs of creamy hot chocolate. Firelight bathed the room in amber brilliance, and the air was scented with cinnamon and cedar. They lounged on the settee, so close they brushed against their sides, yet not nearly as close as instincts demanded. They’d started further apart, when his aunts sat in the corner, chatting about the rapid approach of spring. The elderly ladies excused themselves not long ago, making no mention of the inappropriateness of leaving the young couple alone. They understood where this journey would end.

Did Sarah?

“Did you enjoy our walk this afternoon?”

“I enjoyed our snowball fight.” Her eyes shined as she smoothed down the silky rose dress that perfectly complimented her complexion. “Especially since I won.”

He edged closer. “Actually, I was victorious with 54,134 snowballs.”

“I tossed precisely one more than that.” She grinned. What a tangle of wonderful contradictions this woman was, with the grace, poise and dignity of any lady, yet endless merriment as she lobbed snowballs. In truth, they both emerged victorious. Simply being with her was the grandest prize of all.

“Regardless of the winner, did you enjoy your reward?”

“A bit too much.” She sipped fruit punch from a cut crystal goblet. The sweet liquid stained her plump lips pink, far more delicious than any sweetened beverage.

“Be careful.” He glided his fingers along the bare skin of her wrist, eliciting delicious shivers. “I know your past misadventures with fruit punch.”

The firelight danced on her silky skin, accentuating her ethereal beauty. She was loveliness defined, not just on the outside, but within. He touched a cheek as soft as the roses that would soon bloom. “You are the most extraordinary woman I’ve ever met,” he murmured.

The goblet slipped from her hand.

Fruit punch flooded his shirt, a bolt of coldness vanquishing the heat. He caught the goblet before it could shatter, yet colorful droplets spritzed through the air. His cravat?

Once more, bright pink.

Sarah turned as white as snow. “I’m so sorry.” She leapt to the sideboard and grasped a pile of white linens. She rushed back. “I truly didn’t mean to spill it.” She patted his shirt, scrubbing at the stain.

Blazes.

If the fruit punch had been uncomfortable, Sarah smoothing his chest was pure torture. It burned into him, forging intense need and inescapable desire. She scrubbed more vigorously, delving lower, lower, lower… He caught her hand.

Her eyes widened. “Should you take your shirt off?”

Clearly, she was a master of torture.

It was obvious the moment she realized what she said. “I meant because it’s wet and uncomfortable, and you wouldn’t want to be in something wet and uncomfortable, and I’m rambling, aren’t I?”

“Quite.”

She licked plump lips. “You don’t have to remove your shirt. Only if you want to because you were uncomfortable. Not because I want you to. One should not wear wet clothing, however, especially during the winter.”

The strangest urge to “accidentally” spill fruit punch on her dress emerged. He just managed to remind himself he was a gentleman.

Still, he undid the top button. “It is quite cold.”

She parted her lips.

He unfastened the button below that. “I wouldn’t want to catch something.”

She shook her head curtly.

He unhooked button by button, then whipped off the garment in one fluid movement. She stayed perfectly still, her face arrested.

“Sarah?”

No response.

“Are you well?”

No response.

“Sar–”

She kissed him.