Her hair was still a gorgeous light brown, the golden bronze ofbupleurum longifolium. Her eyes, the deep brown of rich soil, earthy and resilient. She was tall; almost as tall as him, just as she’d been a decade ago, when he last saw her.
Unlike that day, Miss Harper was not wearing a worn riding habit, but rather a gorgeous moss-colored gown of silk and satin. Her cheekbones were sharper, her curves fuller, her spine straighter.
She absolutely looked like the goddess of the forest she was rumored to be: wild, ruthless, capable of bending any beast to her will.
Her power and barely restrained fury should have spooked him. Sent him galloping off before she had him by the reins. Instead, it was all Eli could do not to reach out and touch her. To prove to himself she was real.
Had he been afraid reality would fall well short of the image he’d built up in his mind? She was so much bigger, so much better, than dreams could conjure.
Visibly restraining herself from slamming the door into his nose, Miss Harper clenched her jaw and flung about to face her father.
Only a fool or an immortal would give an enemy her back.
Miss Harper was no fool.
Now that she was no longer looking at him, the unbearable cold seeped beneath all of Eli’s warm layers to burrow deep into his bones. Clouds of snow pillowed into the air as the bitter wind blustered down the lonely, empty street.
All Eli knew of this area was that the village was called Christmas, and today was its busiest day of the year.
If that was true, all of the tourists must already be indoors, making merry before a warm fire. No one else was standing on a frozen doorstep, gloved hands jammed into wool pockets, shifting from foot to foot in a fruitless, desperate attempt to keep the blood moving in his veins.
Eli had never been north of London. He’d seen paintings of this picturesque, mountain-top village. Majestic Marlowe Castle at the peak, the rows of bright red sleighs pulled by coal black horses. It looked positively enchanting.
It had enchanted the feeling right out of his toes.
Not that anything was colder than the reception he was getting from Miss Harper.
Clearly, her father had broken the news of their betrothal. Just as clear was her opinion on the matter.
That she hadn’t forgiven him was obvious. How could she have? His actions were unforgivable. For as long as he lived, Eli doubted he would forgive himself. The pain on her face, both then and now, would forever haunt him.
How he wished they hadn’t had to meet like this!
Eli had dreamt of a reunion a thousand times. Of apologizing for the past, of finding some way to make up for his crimes against her. To start again. Perhaps, even, to have a future.
On their own. Without either of their fathers looking on.
But it was not to be.
Theirs was not a love match. He did not blame her for feeling betrayed by her father. Eli felt the same. He would not be here, ruining Miss Harper’s Christmas, if this reunion weren’t at the marquess’s insistence.
Like all men, Eli was many things. Some he was proud of, some not. But doing the right thing came first, whatever the cost.
Even if it meant obeying his father.
Inside the warm house, Miss Harper’s father gave an exaggerated shiver, and jabbed an emphatic finger in Eli’s direction.
With eyes that could smelt iron, Miss Harper took an extravagant step to one side, unblocking the doorway with an unwelcoming sweep of her arm.
Eli crossed the threshold on limbs that had long since gone numb.
She closed the door behind him and leapt lightly away, as if preparing for him to pounce.
“I know this isn’t what you want,” he said. “I will do everything in my power to comport myself like a man in love.”
“Pfft.” The snort of laughter did not reach her eyes. “You’d stab me in the heart just to see if I bleed.”
With that, she turned her back and resumed arguing with her father as though Eli weren’t standing there dripping globs of melted snow in her hallway.
