Then splat.
A snowball caught her square in the stomach.
Her laughter stopped with a gasp. The cold seeped straight through the wool and petticoats to her skin. She stumbled a step back and clutched her belly. “Oof.”
Sebastian’s face went from smug to horrified in half a second.
“Oh no. I didn’t… Are you…”
“I’m fine,” she said between shaky breaths. Then she started laughing again, harder this time, her knees folding until she dropped to a crouch, hugging herself.
His shouldersrelaxed. “You scared me.”
“You hit me in the spleen,” she managed, giggling.
He crouched beside her, snow dusting his hair and lashes. He looked absurd. And adorable. And far too close.
“I surrender,” he whispered. “Truly this time.”
Their faces were only inches apart now. Maddie’s laughter quieted. Her breath fogged between them, visible in the space they didn’t cross.
She swallowed.
This close, she could see the faint stubble along his jaw, the line of his lips, the way his brown eyes weren’t so unreadable anymore.
They were warm. And trained entirely on her.
Her heart gave a hard thump.
He tilted his head slightly. “You look cold.”
“I’m not,” she lied. “But the flask is by now.”
He reached up and gently flicked a bit of snow from her temple. The brief touch stole the warmth from her breath.
“I should get back inside,” she murmured, not moving. “Perhaps I’ll get some pine or tea later.”
“Yes.” But he didn’t move either.
“So soon?”
He hunched down, breathing heavily. “I haven’t recovered from my cold yet.” As if to prove his words, he sneezed.
Indeed, Sebastian made a good friend. But one thing was for certain; he was a distraction. One Maddie couldn’t afford, unless she wanted to give the wrong impression to the duke. One she even might want to give.
What should she do?
Chapter Eight
“Look at thisbeauty,” Paisley called out, holding a dripping hare by the ears. Sebastian winced in disgust. He’d taken the only seat in the brewery that was not a hay barrel, a three-legged stool that he was sure had been there since Thomas’s grandfather’s time. However, he’d much rather be in a snow fight than in the presence of this blackguard.
“Get that out, Paisley,” Thomas called. “You’re dripping on my floor.”
“It’s filthy already.” Paisley had only come to show his hunting loot; why else would he have entered the brewery if he deemed it for staff only?
“That’s hay. You are spilling blood on it.” Sebastian rolled his eyes, and Thomas shook his head in disgust. Why did he always have to insert himself in their lives? Title certainly shielded the undeserving sometimes.
The brewery, at least, was one of Sebastian’s favorite places.
