Page 27 of Mail-Order Viscountess

“I know.” Her admission came out barely above a whisper. “If I thought otherwise, I wouldn’t be here.”

Something in his chest loosened. She trusted him—not fully, maybe not even mostly—but she’d made a calculation and decided he wasn’t a threat. Given everything that had happened, given the way his family had lied to bring her sister here, that small concession felt like more than he deserved.

He let the quiet blanket the space. Tried to force his own body to relax.

The stone was still cold, even through the coat. Kate’s teeth chattered despite her attempts to hide it. The fire crackled, but its warmth only reached so far.

He forced himself to focus on the blaze. The flames had settled into a steady burn now, fed by the wood he’d gathered. If he was careful, it would last through the night. He’d need to add another log soon though. Maybe in an hour.

“This isn’t working.” Kate’s voice came out tight. “It’s still too cold.”

She was right. The gap between them might as well have been a canyon, letting the chill pour through.

Thomas stared at the ice curtain, watching the firelight dance across its surface. Would she allow him to…? The only way to find out was to ask.

“I’m going to...” He motioned between them. “I’ll block the cold from behind.”

A pause. “All right.”

He inched closer, then curled around her, not quite touching but close enough that her warmth seeped through their clothes. His arm hovered for a moment before resting on her waist—the most natural position, the one that would share the most heat.

Kate went rigid. Every muscle in her body seemed to lock up, and for a moment it felt like she’d pull away, demand he move, remind him exactly how little she trusted him.

Then, slowly, she exhaled. Her shoulders dropped. She let herself lean back, just slightly, into the warmth he offered.

“Better?” His voice came out rough, and she could probably feel his breath on her ear.

“Better.” Barely a whisper.

The fire popped and calmed. Wind howled somewhere beyond their shelter, muffled by ice and stone but still audible—a reminder of the storm that had trapped them here.

He focused on keeping his breathing steady, on not noticing how perfectly she fit against him, on not thinking about the fact that this was the closest he’d been to a woman in longer than he could remember.

“I hate this.” Kate’s voice broke the silence, so quiet he almost missed it.

He tensed. Being so near to him? He should pull back. But maybe he should make sure of her meaning. “The cold?”

“The helplessness.” She shifted a tiny bit, and he felt the tension still coiled in her frame. “Clara is out there somewhere, and I can’t do anything. I can’t protect her. I can’t even get to her.”

The raw edge in her voice cut through the distance he’d kept between them. He’d heard her sharp and defensive, seen her angry and suspicious. But this—this was something else.

Something true.

“James will take care of her.” He kept his voice low. “He’s the most responsible man I know. Probably already has her warm and fed at that farmhouse up the trail.”

“You don’t understand.” Her body tensed even more, as tight as her voice. “Clara is all I have. She’s the only one who’s ever...”

She stopped. The silence that followed felt fragile, like ice too thin to bear weight.

“Ever what?” But part of him already knew the answer. Had seen it in the way she positioned herself between Clara and every potential threat, in the fierce protectiveness that colored her every move.

“Seen me.” The words came out cracked. “Really seen me. Not the disappointing stepdaughter. Not the common girl with the dead mother. Just...me.” And then her voice grew strength again. “Every decision I’ve made, every plan I’ve laid—it’s all been about keeping her safe. And now she’s across that river and I can’t⁠—”

The words cut off. Her whole body was rigid.

“You can’t protect her from everything.” The truth tasted bitter even as he said it. “No matter how hard you try.”

“Watch me.”