His kisses were exquisite.
No woman in her right mind would wish to avoid a moment’s pleasure in his embrace.
But the obvious spark between them wasn’t the problem.
The fact that he was going to marry someoneelsewas the problem.
She’d known that before she came. She hadn’t cared back then.
Very well, yes, she had cared deeply, but she’d thought he was going to marryGertie, who was Cynthia’s favorite person. Since the duke never looked twice at Cynthia anyway, why not have him rescue her cousin?
But Gertie didn’t want the duke.
Cynthia did.
And Alexander wanted someone—anyone—but Cynthia Louise.
The only way to avoid being hurt when he made his final duchess selection, was to avoidhim. The less time they spent together, the lower the probability of her exceedingly foolish tendre developing into something deeper.
After all, Cynthia had a long history of falling in things.
What she had to avoid falling into was love.
She turned from the gorgeous, perfect-for-skis, unblemished, snow-covered slope and stepped... right into the Duke of Nottingvale’s chest.
“Good heavens!” He grabbed her shoulders and hauled her toward the castle ramparts. “You were standing on the edge of acliff. You could have slid right off!”
“I plan to,” she informed him. “What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be entertaining guests at your party?”
“You’re a guest at my party,” he reminded her. “And you’re not there. I came to... chastise you.”
“You’re not there, either,” she pointed out. “Consider your chastisement rebutted.”
Alexander glowered at her. “Very well. I confess. I came to see what you were doing.”
He also hadn’t let go of her yet. If anything, he was holding her closer.
She felt in danger of losing her balance over a different type of cliff.
With skis, Cynthia hadn’t minded getting hurt, because she knew she could win in the end.
With Nottingvale, the game was already over.
She swallowed. “How did you know I was here?”
“I didn’t,” he admitted. “Fortunately, people tend to notice when you pass by, which provided subtle clues to follow.”
“Was it the chestnut cart?” she asked. “Children love it when I eat chestnuts from the air whilst juggling them.”
“It was the archery targets,” he informed her. “The competition apparently isn’t until tomorrow, but a certain hoyden paid five quid to practice shooting today... and didn’t hit a single hay mound.”
“My hands were sticky,” she protested. “That was after the chestnuts.”
Hestillhadn’t let go of her.
She was suddenly aware how protected their position was behind the castle. Ramparts to one side, a forest to the other… They were out-of-doors yet completely hidden from view.
Anything could happen.
