“Then you’ll know what you desire, Maddie.”
And perhaps it will be me.
*
When Maddie rosethat morning, the last thing she imagined doing was walking arm-in-arm with the still stuffy-nosed Marquess of Cambridge.
And not just in the literal sense.
The man not only sniffled like a dying hedgehog, but he also had an infuriating knack for sticking his nose where it most certainly did not belong—into her thoughts, her principles, and worse, her desires.
He’d spoken of kissing. Desires. Her mother. In the daylight, it all felt inappropriate—unspeakably so. But it had also left a mark.
Now, walking beside him, her arm tucked neatly into his, Maddie could not stop thinking about that particular remark.
I can also imagine that your desires transcend proving your mother wrong.
Did they?
Maddie wasn’t so sure. She certainly didn’t want to dwell on the topic of her mother. Most of that was a subject she kept tightly shuttered, even from her closest friends.
And yet she had told him.
She’d told him she wanted to prove her mother wrong. That she was meant for more than the first gentleman who offered for her. Shewas worthy of more, wasn’t she? Her gaze lifted to him briefly, only to be struck by the clean, heady scent of him. Not cologne. Something warmer. Soap, maybe. Or leather and starch and skin. Masculine.
It filled her head more swiftly than it ought.
And now that the feverish sheen had left his skin, she could appreciate his handsomeness more fully. And his build. His coat hugged him just so, the cut of his shoulders clear. The strong forearms beneath his sleeves. The easy strength in how he moved.
This man was allman.
And kissing Sebastian would be infinitely more interesting than kissing Paisley. As of late, when Maddie tried to picture the duke, her imagination faltered. The vision blurred. Because another man’s mouth came to mind. One far more expressive. One far more maddening.
Maddie blinked hard. She had to stop this.
She didn’t even know if a kiss could reveal so much. Could it? She imagined it perfectly, yes. Soft at first, curious. And then…
No. No, no. Madness.
She shook her head, frustrated at herself.
How had he gotten into her head so thoroughly?
She needed a distraction.
Maddie’s arms slipped from his and she walked past him, straight to a thick, untouched patch of snow. She crouched, scooped a proper handful, and began patting it into a compact ball.
Perfect. Cold. Solid. Satisfying.
She may not have answers, but this, at least, she could control.
“What are you doing?” He directed a skeptical look at the snow. “Your fingers will freeze.”
Maddie grinned at him before throwing the ball of snow at him, which exploded dead center on his chest. She loved the snow and had yet to meet an opponent who could beat her at snowball fights.
He cast her anastonished look. “Are you mad?”
“Who is the mad one here?” she quipped back. “Raising topics such as desire and kissing. I suddenly have adesireto pummel you with snow.” She made another snowball. This one hit him square on the shoulder.
