“It’s your turn,” she said gesturing towards the spot beside her snow angel.
He smiled at her enthusiasm. He’d much prefer to sweep her into his arms and make less angelic imprints, but he good-naturedly spread his arms and fell back into the snow bank. When he scrambled back up, they stood back to see the results. There in the snow were two imprints so close together, they appeared to be holding hands. He had the crazy urge to write in the snow below “Justin loves Jilly.”
He held out his hand to her and she slipped her hand in his, entwining their fingers. Unable to resist any longer, he pulled her to him and cupped her face with his free hand. His lips moved over hers, the initial cold disappearing as she responded ardently to his advances.
His arms went around her and he lifted her up so that her eyes were even with his. Tentatively, she lowered her lips to his and wrapped her arms around his neck. He was lost, drowning in a sea of emotion that was rapidly becoming too much for him to handle. “Let’s get back,” he rasped. He set her back down and took her hand tightly in his as they returned to the sleigh.
###
They arrived back at the stables and Justin stepped from the sleigh, reaching for Jillian’s hand to assist her down. He didn’t relinquish it, even after her feet were on solid ground. Tucking her arm under his and placing his hand over hers, he turned them towards the house. As they moved up the path to the house, Jillian looked up at Justin, her eyes sparkling in pleasure.
“That was the most marvelous surprise.”
“I am glad you enjoyed it,” he said, smiling down at her.
She held his gaze for a moment and then cocked her head. “Why are you looking at me so intently?”
He hesitated a moment wondering if this was the right time. Deciding it had to be now, he met her eyes. “We need to talk, Jillian.”
They reached the terrace doors and stepped into the warm foyer. She looked at him in alarm.
“Is something wrong?”
“Let’s go into the sitting room and warm ourselves by the fire,” he suggested, nudging her elbow forward.
They approached the fireplace and stretched out their hands toward the flickering flames, the coldness melting rapidly from their fingers. He turned to her. His voice was soft, even a little hesitant. “Jillian, there are some things I need to know, important things.” He took her now warm hands in his, rubbing his thumbs across her palms. “Jillian, I—” He broke off, unwilling to blurt out the extent of his feelings just yet. “I care about you, Jillian, and I need to know...I want to know about your marriage to Penroth.”
A look of panic entered her eyes and she looked down, avoiding his gaze. He cupped her chin in his hand and gently lifted it upward. He was startled by the unshed tears visible in her eyes.
“Jillian, what is it? Tell me.”
“I can’t,” she said in a stricken voice. She attempted to pull away from him, but he gathered her hands tightly in his.
“What can’t you tell me?”
Her voice caught on a sob and she looked away. “There are things, if you knew, you would hate me.”
Justin gathered her in his arms, holding her tightly against him. He hated his lack of control in this situation. He felt helpless against whatever demons she was fighting. Slowly, he drew her away from him, staring intently into her eyes, willing her not to look away again.
“Jillian, do you trust me?”
Justin watched the struggle so evident in her face. He was so close to bridging the gap between them, he could feel it, very nearly touch it. He felt the need to scream in frustration. What awful truth was she hiding? His stomach tightened uncomfortably as he waited for her to regain control of her emotions.
She bit her lip, fighting against the urge to let loose her long pent up fears. She did trust Justin, but what would he do if he knew the truth? His contempt would be more than she could bear. “I trust you, Justin.”
He looked relieved by her response. She met his gaze and swallowed nervously.
“I hated him,” she said in just above a whisper. “I wasn’t sad when he died, I was relieved. It was nothing more than I had wished a thousand times.” She eased away from Justin, and paced restlessly as the words poured from her. He stood silently, listening as she unloaded her burden.
“When he died, I could not, would not, go through the motions, the hypocrisy, of mourning a man I despised. It seemed so important then, to act as I did.” Her voice caught, and she paused a moment. “All I did was make myself appear a self-absorbed, shallow malcontent.”
“What did Penroth do to make you hate him so?” Justin asked.
She halted her pacing and looked at him. She was valiantly trying to maintain her composure. He closed the distance between them, stopping just in front of her.
“Jillian, there is nothing you could tell me that would make me think any less of you. You must realize that.”
Oh, how she wanted to believe that. She clutched at his words, needing the support they lent her. “You may decide differently once I tell you the truth,” she said in a wavering voice.
