“A natural at not falling off? Very high praise,” Maddie quipped, trying to mask how her pulse had begun to race.
Sebastian chuckled, and before she could fully adjust herself, he swung up behind her in one fluid motion, the movement so effortlessly athletic that Maddie couldn’t help but turn to look at him. His dark coat brushed against hers, his arms reaching around to take the reins.
“You’re very close,” she whispered, suddenly all too aware of the solid warmth of his chest against her back.
“Yes,” he said, his voice calm and sinfully deep. “I am.” And he placed a gentle kiss on her shoulder, right over her scarf. But it didn’t matter for it burned down to her skin.
A path straight into her heart.
His arm pressed lightly against her side as he steadied both her and the reins. The faint scent of leather and pine clung to him, mingling with the cool, heady freshnessof the snowy morning.
“Hold here.” His gloved hands briefly covered hers, showing her where to grip the saddle for balance. The gentle weight of his palms made her head swim, her chest tightening as though her corset had suddenly shrunk.
She couldn’t decide if she wanted to sigh or bolt from the saddle entirely. “Well, you’ve certainly made me feel… secure.”
He chuckled again, the rumble of it deep in his chest. “Good. You’ll need it.”
Before she could ask what he meant, he gave a low, confident command to Swan, and the mare’s powerful legs pushed them into a steady trot. The rhythmic crunch of hooves in the snow filled the air as the stables fell behind them.
Maddie glanced over her shoulder. “We’re going in the wrong direction,” she said, though her tone lacked the conviction to stop him.
“Is that so?” Sebastian asked, his tone playfully innocent. “Wrong by whose standards?”
“By everyone else’s,” she replied. “The sleds are going that way.”
“Yes,” he said simply, guiding Swan left toward a path lined by snow-draped trees. “And we’re not.”
“And where, pray tell, are we going?”
He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear despite the chill brushing her cheeks. “Sledding.”
Maddie blinked, turning her head slightly toward him. “Sledding. Without a sled?”
A glimmer of mischief danced in his dark eyes. “There’s a sled,” he said, his lips turning upward in that maddeningly confident smile. “Where I intend to go.”
She narrowed her eyes at him, or at least she tried. The way his words drew out, low and teasing, made her lips twitch against her will. “Is this one of those things you won’t explain until we get there?”
“Precisely,” he said, clearly delighted.
“You are impossible,” Maddie muttered, but even she could hearthe underlying amusement in her voice.
“Impossible?” Sebastian said, as if deeply offended. “You wound me, Miss Madeleine.”
“I doubt anyone could manage that,” she shot back.
“Anyone?” he echoed, soft and amused, his voice curling around the word like a challenge.
Her reply caught in her throat, betrayed not by his words but by the way his smile hovered just on the edge of boyish and dangerous. Maddie turned her gaze to the snowy path ahead, hoping he didn’t notice the way her cheeks deepened in their warmth, or that her fingers gripped the saddle just a little tighter.
“Well?” Sebastian prompted after a beat, his voice bright. “Trust me?”
“You’ve left me little choice.”
“Good,” he said, sounding entirely too pleased.
And with a soft click of his tongue, Swan quickened her pace, carrying them farther into the snowy white unknown.
And she’d follow him anywhere, Swan or not, known or unknown.
