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“Next time,” I say, adjusting the clothing with stiff fingers, “I’m tricking Robert or James into doing this.”

“Oh, the treachery,” she says with a delighted laugh. “I admire it. Particularly when it’s directed away from me.”

I snort. “For the record, I’d have been well and truly ruined without you.”

“Naturally. I’ll always be here to bail you out of the worst kind of trouble.” There’s such warmth in her tone.

And for reasons I don’t yet understand, the thought settles warmly and stubbornly in my chest, long after the cold has let me go.

I’ll revisit this moment bitterly—I know, when everything that can go wrong does. But I’ll remember it fondly too. I’ll keep the rest of it, the part that’s her, separate.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

RÓISÍN

We’re halfway up the path when the rain hits, sudden and violent, flattening my hair and soaking us to the skin in seconds.

“Oh, are you serious?” Alex shouts to the heavens, arms flung wide, as if this is the final insult on a long list. “Haven’t I suffered enough for one afternoon?”

I laugh before I can stop myself. “Move!” I say, already grabbing his hand.

He startles momentarily before his fingers close around mine, and then we’re running. My boots skid on the wet stones. I gather my skirts and run as fast as I can, rain driving hard into my face.

He glances back once, takes in my slipping footing and the mess of skirts, and makes a decision without consulting anyone.

“Not a chance,” he says, like I’m a problem he can solve.

“Alex—” I begin, but he’s already turned, already scooping me up as if I weigh nothing at all, hauling me over his shoulder like a sack of flour.

I let out a sound that is deeply undignified.

“Alexander Mumford, put me down!” I smack his back, more in principle than force. “I’m not a grain delivery!”

“You’re slipping all over the place and slowing me down,” he says, breathless but maddeningly calm about it. “I’m faster. This is efficient.”

“This is humiliating!”

“So is getting sick because you caught a cold running as slow as a turtle,” he calls over the rain, and breaks into an even faster run, as if to prove his point further.

The world turns sideways. My hair comes loose entirely. Rain lashes my face. I cling to his shirt and hate the fact that his shoulder feels steady as stone.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” I shout.

“No!” he shouts back, which is a lie.

We reach the cabin in a blur of wet and laughter. He lowers me only when we’re under the eaves, and I shove at his chest the moment my boots find the ground again.

We burst inside together, breathless and dripping, and I slam the door behind us.

I turn on him, pointing an accusing finger. “Don’t manhandle me like that again.”

“You’re welcome… now we are even.”

I can’t help it. I laugh. “Not even close!”

He pushes wet hair back out of his eyes, grinning, and the motion is careless and familiar enough that it steals my breath for half a second. Dark hair, nearly black when it’s soaked through, curling at the ends.

And then I make the mistake of lingering again.