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Clara stared. “What are you suggesting, Mr. Cole?”

“Oliver,” he corrected. “And I believe you know what I’m suggesting.”

“Absolutely not,” she said at once. “That is taking liberties that would certainly lead me to being dismissed.”

“But look how far we are from the house. No one could possibly see you from here. Furthermore, to return the skates, you’ll have to walk around the pond. Skating across it will be far faster. You’re saving time, really.”

She shook her head at his attempts to convince her. “Your logic is sound, but I fear it is still not worth the risk.”

“Not even if I go with you?”

She looked at the skates in his hand. “From what I can tell, we appear to have four feet between us, not just the two.”

“Ah, see, I have already thought this through. It’s genius, really. I take a skate”—He paused, extending the other to Clara—“and you take a skate. Then we balance upon each other, both on one leg, until we reach the other side.”

The mere image of the sight caused her to laugh. “That would be absolutely absurd. We would end up in a heap upon the ice.”

“Oh, come now, Clara, where is your sense of adventure?”

“Swallowed up in Mrs. Wintle’s ever-watchful eye—and my desire to not become impaled by your half of skates.”

He swept his eyes around them. “But Mrs. Wintle is not here now, is she? Nor is another soul for miles. And I can assure you, my skate shall remain far enough away from you as possible. Come now. I can see that you’d like to do this. Why not give yourself a moment of joy while you can?”

Clara hadn’t seen that charming of a smile from him since their first meeting. This time it was actually working. Perhaps it was because a perfect stranger wasn’t attempting to kiss her. Or more likely, perhaps it was because she was falling swiftly for the man she knew behind the stranger.

Either way, she found herself reaching out her hand for one of the skates.

Twenty-Five

Mr. Cole beamed at Clara. “There you go. Now let us have a little fun, shall we?”

“This shan’t fit my boot,” she warned, peering at the skate.

“That’s all right. These were too small for my own feet to begin with.”

Clara placed her left boot into one of the skates, Oliver doing the same to his right. Once finished, they hobbled their way toward the ice.

“It is frozen, is it not?” Clara asked.

“Most assuredly.”

Still, she gingerly placed one boot on the ice, then the ice skate. Her boot instantly slid against the too-large skate, causing her to teeter dangerously back and forth.

“This was a terrible idea,” she said, tightening the skate further.

Mr. Cole chuckled. “I think it my finest idea.”

She smiled as he wobbled in time with her own. “I need a stick or something to hold onto,” she said, looking around the banks.

Mr. Cole was at her side in an instant. “I have something far sturdier than a stick.” He wrapped his arm around her side and held her in place, remaining on his boot rather than his one skate.

“This is why you brought me out here, is it not?” she asked, narrowing her eyes in a playful manner.

“I would never.”

Their eyes met, their faces inches apart, and his grin sailed through the cold to warm her soul.

“Right,” he began. “Now we shall guide one another across the pond. Ready?”