His concern for her welfare would have been sweet had he and his siblings not nearly maimed her with their dagger-tossing match.
“My pride is terribly wounded.” She cast a glance toward him.
A mistake.
Blade Winter, with a lock of golden hair falling over his brow, surrounded by the brilliance of the snow, was nothing short of glorious masculine perfection. Curse him.
His bright-blue eyes were on her too, studying. “That is all?”
For a wicked moment, she wondered if he would lift up her gown and inspect her limbs again if she claimed an injury elsewhere. But then she quickly banished the notion.
“That is all,” she agreed, swallowing down a knot of longing threatening to rise within her.
This man is not for you, Felicity.
Think of Esme and Cassandra.
“How is Miss Wilhelmina finding herself?” he asked, not content to allow the silence to reign between them.
And of course, all the ice she had attempted to resurrect inside herself melted.
She stole another glance in his direction. “She is doing quite well. No recent escapes.”
“I trust if she decides to hide herself beneath any other gentleman’s bed during the house party, you will notify me.”
There was an edge in his voice. A curious one.
She could not resist prodding him. “Why should I notify you, Mr. Winter?”
He stiffened at her side. “I would help you to preserve your reputation, of course.”
Her lips twitched. The notion of Blade Winter preserving her reputation was laughable.
“Do I amuse you, my lady?” he asked.
“Yes.” She turned her attention back to the path ahead of her, lest she lose her footing in the slippery snow. “I hardly think you suited to save my reputation.”
“I am insulted.”
She cast another quick glance in his direction to find him holding a hand over his heart. “Need I remind you of what happened in the yellow salon?”
What are you doing, Felicity? Cease mentioning what happened between the two of you yesterday at once.
“How could I forget? Have you given any thought to my question, love?”
His low query sent a new shiver through her that had nothing to do with being chilled and everything to do with Blade Winter. His other, far more tempting question returned to her.Why not enjoy yourself before you sell your body and soul to save your sisters?
She had scarcely thought of anything since.
But those feelings were not meant to be. She must not indulge them. Instead, she needed to cleave to her future. Find a proper husband. That was the reason she was present at this house party. For Esme’s and Cassandra’s sakes.
She tamped down her longing, forced herself to speak with feigned nonchalance. “Of course I have not, Mr. Winter. There is nothing to be enjoyed, and I will only be in danger of ruining my reputation forever by dallying with you.”
“Do you know what I think, Lady Felicity? I think you are not so much worried about me ruining your reputation. I can be stealthy. Slip into your chamber better than any thief. No one would know I was ever there. Nay, you are afraid I will ruin you for any gentleman who would come after me.”
The mere notion of this fascinating man inside her bedchamber, alone with her, was enough to make her knees weak. He was horridly arrogant. Smug, even. Handsome and tempting and everything she should not want.
Her boot slid in the snow, and he caught her arm, steadying her. Felicity paused, turning toward him. “You are being fanciful, Mr. Winter. You make much of your prowess.”
