What did she care anyway? He was a jerk. A jerk who could dance better in a minute than any man could in her future.
She spotted Will on his brown and white horse approaching in the snow from the opposite direction. He was too far away to see her. She knew where he’d been thanks to Sarah. He’d been chopping wood for his uncle Edward, his father’s brother. Will’s job was mostly physical labor and to fix everything for his mother and the rest of his family. Sarah helped. Harry did not.
Aria heard a sound to her left. But when she turned toward it there was nothing there but fog. Soon though, like an apparition coming to life, the marquess appeared on his gray horse. He was watching her like some wild predator with shining blue-green eyes eclipsed by raven strands of hair. He wore his red coat with the fur-lined hood over his head. He reached her before Will did.
“My lord.”
He blinked and seemed to come awake. He looked uncomfortable in his own skin. “I was just making certain there was no trouble here.”
“Thank you. There isn’t.”
He tipped his head toward the sun as he passed her in his saddle. His hood slipped back and fell to his shoulders.
Aria caught her breath at the shape of his face. Why was the angle of his jaw so perfectly crafted, the square tip of his chin so able to support all the emotions and reactions a dancer should be able to support?
Refusing to ponder him the way he had clearly been pondering her when she’d seen him, she pushed the shovel into the snowy path and heaved the snow out of the way.
She heard boots hit the snow and then move toward her. She picked up her head to see the marquess standing over her. He pulled the shovel out of her hand. “Let me.”
“No, that’s fine.” She tried to get the shovel back. “You’re a marquess. I’m sure you’ve never shoveled a day in your life.”
He paused to pout. “I feel as if you’re insulting me.”
“I can see why,” Aria agreed, hating how quickly he’d gone from looking like a wolf that had just found breakfast to boyishly adorable. “I’m basically calling you lazy.”
He squared his gaze on hers and tore away every barrier she’d ever built, as if they were made of wisps of smoke. “Fine,” he said, without giving away what he saw. “You want to know what kind of man I am.”
“Ha! Why would I care what kind of man you are?”
“I’ll shovel this entire yard. For you.”
She couldn’t break away from his gaze for a second. “Why would you talk like that? Are you trying to get me to like you? If so, you can forget it right now.”
“Why?” he asked with the slightest hint of a smile. “Am I so bad that you can’t like me?”
She saw right through his practiced smile to that poignant dancer and lowered her eyes.
“My lord!” Will’s voice broke through every haunting thought. “Why are you—here, give me that!” He bounced from his saddle when he reached them and reached for the shovel.
The marquess wouldn’t give it up and finally, in a stern voice, ordered Will to let go.
“I’ll stay while he shovels,” Aria said, still staring at the snowy ground.
“What? Why?” Will asked her.
“Because he’s doing it for me.”
The marquess nodded and shoveled some more.
“What do you mean, he’s doing it for you?” Will asked. “Come inside with me.”
She sighed quietly. She found it difficult to ask Will not to push her around. He had done so much for her. He’d become her well-needed friend. But she didn’t like how indebted she felt to him.
“Will,” she said. She felt the marquess’ eyes on her and turned to find him blatantly staring at her, waiting for the rest of her response.
He didn’t say a word and gave away nothing about what he wanted—for her to stay with him or go.
“I’ll…I’ll be in shortly.”
