But none of the other children appeared to be noticing the cold.
He stood a little apart from everyone else and peered among the trees to see if he could spot them. It did not take much effort. He caught a glimpse of red in the distance— Tess was wearing a red cloak. Perhaps she was not interested in bonfires and chocolate and the company of other children. Perhaps her mother was playing with her.
“Excuse me a moment,” he said and strode away from the lake.
At first he thought they really were playing. Certainly they were both laughing. He always felt a pang of something—anger? bitterness? loneliness?—when he heard Christina laugh. She seemed able to do it with everyone except him.
“I will have this all worked out in a minute,” she was saying, and they both laughed again.
They were sitting side by side on the branch of an old tree, Christina’s arm protectively about her daughter’s shoulders. They were not very high off the ground, but it was clear that they were stuck. The Earl of Wanstead strolled toward them.
The countess openly winced. “Oh, dear,” she said, “I was just trying to persuade myself to swallow my pride and yell for help. I would have done so in a moment if I had knownyouwere about to come to our rescue.”
“Stuck, Tess?” he asked. “You are trying to rescue your mama?”
“I would not jump,” Tess told him and laughed with apparent glee. “Mama said jump and I would not. And then she climbed up to get me and now we both cannot get down.” But such was her childhood trust in the security of a mother’s arm that she did not look at all alarmed.
“She was just out of arm’s reach,” the countess explained, “both when I was standing on the ground and when I climbed the trunk. But now I seem to have no way of getting her to the trunk short of lifting her across my body. I am quite reluctant to try that. This branch is higher than it looks from down there.”
She was wearing half boots with a drab gray cloak—part of her old wardrobe, he had guessed when he saw her earlier. But the flush of cold and embarrassment in her cheeks added becoming color to her appearance—and the inch or two of bare flesh between the top of her boots and the hem of her cloak added definite allure. He wondered if she was aware of that glimpse of leg she was showing.
“I am taller,” he said, stepping closer and raising his arms. “I can almost reach your ankles, Tess. Will you trust me and jump into my arms? I will not drop you, I promise.” He winked at her. “On my honor as a gentleman.”
“If I hold her under the arms and lower her a little—” the countess began, but Tess had simply leaned forward and dropped straight into his waiting arms. He was aware of baby curls and a soft little cheek and small clinging arms and feather lightness—and a delighted little laugh as his arms closed tightly about her.
“There,” he said. “One rescued princess.”
“And I, I suppose,” Christina said crossly, “am the dragon.”
“Breathing fire and brimstone,” he agreed, grinning up at her before setting the child’s feet on the ground and letting her go with surprising reluctance. “There is a bonfire through the trees there, Tess. You can see it from here. You will miss the chocolate and the fun if you do not hurry.”
She went skipping off without a backward glance.
The earl folded his arms. “I assume,” he said, looking up at Christina, “thatyouare not in need of rescuing.”
She was still sitting on the branch, glancing uneasily at the trunk a foot or so distant with its very easy hand and toeholds.
“Oh, dear,” she said and laughed. “This should be easy.”
“If you are,” he said, “just say the word.”
“Oh!” She glared accusingly down at him and then spoiled the effect by dissolving into laughter again. “You are enjoying this.”
“Especially,” he said, “the inch or perhaps the inch and a half of space between the tops of your boots and your hem.” She shrieked.
He stepped closer again and reached up his arms. “You had better do what your daughter just did, Christina.”
“I’ll climb down on my own, thank you,” she told him, on her dignity. “Go away!”
But when he turned obediently to leave she shrieked at him again. She hurtled downward almost before he was ready for her. He went staggering back under the impact of her weight and turned only just in time to brace his back against the tree trunk and save them both from falling to the ground.
She was laughing helplessly—no,giggling—against the capes of his greatcoat, and was pressed to him from her forehead to her knees. He guessed that she was not fully aware of that fact yet. He was—uncomfortably aware of it despite the protective layers of both indoor and outdoor garments between them. He could smell lavender.
“I have never had much of a head for heights,” she said.
“And I suppose,” he said, “it never occurred to you to summon someone else to rescue Tess even though there were any number of persons with steady heads all about you?”
She laughed. And then stopped laughing and stood very still against him. And then tipped back her head and looked up at him. It did not seem to occur to either of them at that moment to release the death hold they had on each other.
