Winning a Lady's Heart (Danby #1)(15)

A wisp of snow drifted down and landed upon her nose, bringing her feet to a halt. Inhaling deeply of the crisp, clean winter air she tipped her head back and became lost in the shower of flakes raining down silently from their place in the sky. She loved the snow. It was clean, quiet, and the flakes so innumerable she’d always been able to lose herself in counting each different flake as they settled to their spot on Earth.

“I didn’t think you would come.”

Alexandra’s eyes flew open and a flake landed on her lid, blurring her vision. She froze. “I’m not a coward.”

Nathan’s jaw set stonily. “I’m not a coward, Alex. A bastard and a fool, but not a coward.” It was the first real indication of emotion she’d seen from him since…since—

“Is this is why you’ve come then, Nathan? To argue the merits of your character? Or have you come to further humiliate me? Only this time in the presence of my entire distinguished family?”

Nathan held his arm out. “Walk with me.”

It wasn’t a question.

She eyed his extended elbow suspiciously. After all, it was the same elbow that had bent as he’d scribbled that blasted wager into the books.

“Never tell me you are, in fact, a coward,” Nathan challenged.

Alexandra gritted her teeth and bit back a retort. “Fine, then.” She slipped her arm into his and hated herself for the thrill of awareness that shot through her.

“You still feel it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, my lord,” she lied.

Nathan didn’t argue the point any further. Instead they continued their silent, stilted journey with no specific destination, their bodies perfectly synchronized with each other’s movements, his boots and her slippers leaving footprint reminders in the dusting of snow along the ground.

They trudged up a small incline, and her slipper caught a slick patch of snow. She nearly careened backwards down the hill.

A strong, steady hand reached out quickly and rescued her from the imminent fall.

“Thank you,” she said breathlessly.

“Three hundred.”

Alexandra blinked in confusion.

“Three hundred steps we’ve taken in silence.”

He’d become a counter. She smiled. Then promptly hated herself for smiling. Blast it all. She did not want to laugh with him. She did not want to find him endearing. And she most certainly did not want to feel her heart warm towards him. “I counted three hundred and twenty-five,” she said with a forced edge of hardness to her words.

Nathan looked as if he wanted to say something but held back the words. Deep blue eyes peered out at the vast holdings below their position on the hill. In those expressive pools, despair, regret, and a whole host of other emotions that made her hope. Foolish, foolish hope.

“Slippers were not the best idea for a walk.”

Her lips twitched again. “On that score, I can agree with you.”

They continued walking in no particular direction, their steps carrying them further and further from Danby’s lair. When she returned, she’d earn an earful from her mother. Nor did she care that the winter chill stole through the velvet fabric, sending frissons of coldness up her spine. For in that moment, she’d achieved what she’d wanted since the Williams’s ballroom—freedom from the prying eyes and questions. In this moment, she was the only person whose questions mattered. So she would have her questions answered, and then she would be free of him.

The pain of that thought stabbed through her like a jagged icicle spearing the earth with its blade.

They arrived at a small copse of trees. An enormous boulder large enough to serve as a bench for three people cut across the path. She allowed him to lead her to it, then she took a seat and waited.

Snow swirled around them a flurry of white piling upon the ground and layering along the brim of his black hat. Nathan doffed it and beat the article against his buff-clad leather breeches, inadvertently drawing her eyes to his muscular thigh.

Her mouth went dry.

“I missed you, Alexandra.”

“It’s only been six days.”

“But it’s felt like six years.”

He’d always claimed he was no poet and yet…he had a poet’s soul. With just a few words, he could reach inside her and bring the balm of peace.

“All the times you told me you loved me. The times you said you dreamed of making me your wife. Were they all lies?”

Nathan raked a hand over his eyes. “Oh, God. What have I done to you?” His tone was weary. Turning suddenly, he took her by the shoulders. “The only lie I ever told was the bloody wager I scratched down at White’s.”

It was what she’d longed to hear and yet, how could she believe him?

“Then, why? Why did you—”

Then his lips were on hers. Every rational thought slipped by on a sigh of longing. Their lips met in a violent explosion of yearning and pain. His tongue slid between her teeth and mated with hers in a primitive movement of unfulfilled desire.

Nathan’s hand worked across her body, reacquainting himself with the flare of her hip, the underside of her breast, the silken smoothness of her neck. Then he reached up and tugged free the pins holding her neat chignon in place, sending the silken strands tumbling to her shoulders. He combed his fingers through her hair, deepening the kiss.