Chapter 3

P erdita sneaked the Earl of Hythe up the back stairs.

The rabbit? No one seemed to know where the hell’s bells the rabbit had gone.

Devilish cheeky fellow.

She was going to have a solid word with him when she found him. Quite likely, the little mite was somewhere in her rooms. It made perfect sense, of course, that he had gone to ground underneath an armoire or some such, but the children had been so certain that they had taken him out of doors.

Perhaps one of them had brought him back in.

With the present weather, staying outside to continue to look for him would prove foolhardy.

Despite the errant rabbit, she’d felt a leap of joy in her heart.

Snow had fallen from the full clouds that covered the sky in the most delicious, wafting feathers. The plump flakes had fallen upon the earl with delicate kisses. Wonder had filled her at the sight.

For all his gruffness, he looked positively delectable with snow resting upon his dark hair and form.

Personally, she loved snow, loved it with every bit of her being. There was something so magical about the stillness of the crystalline, frozen water falling from the sky to land softly and silently upon the earth and anyone in its path.

What a magical transformation! Water to crystals of such beauty that they stole the breath away! She took heart in the knowledge that such transformation was possible. Surely, if a drop of water could be a snowflake, there was hope for humans too.

In all events, such weather meant that the rabbit, being wild by birth, would most certainly go to ground. He would find a good bush or a hole somewhere about, and she had not been dressed for tromping through the deep snow or the woods.

While she generally believed that any sort of weather was meant for humans to be in, if one did not have the proper boots or the proper cloak or the proper gloves, it was an unpleasant experience.

Her gallant skeptic had not had a cloak or great coat on at all. He’d left it in the barn with his falcon. She would have to send for it.

And the falcon. Surely, they could arrange something for the earl and his dear friend, though she was going to have to be careful with her crow.

As it was, once the snow reverted back to its watery form, he was clearly going to be drenched. At present, in the hall, each flake was melting upon him like a delicate caress. It was beautiful.

Just as he was.

She loved it. Though he seemed most wary as she led him up the back stairs. Not because he was feeble, but because she had overpowered him with her personality to get him to go with her into the more isolated corridors of the castle. She had a way of doing that with people.

She did not need to use any sort of physical force to overwhelm. Oh no. She simply had an attitude about her that could get anyone to do what she wanted. It was both a blessing and a curse. She had to use it very carefully. She had, on occasion, swept up people into her influence without meaning to, and so she had learned to apply it very carefully over the years.

In this instance, she had simply told him that she would get him into the castle without being bothered by other guests, and then he could retire until his presence was required.

That had seemed to appeal to him immensely, but she had not told him her plans for him. Plans that had formed quite suddenly but fully.

So, when she took him all the way up the stairs and through the dark halls to the back of the house and to her own chambers, he stopped at the door.

“These are my rooms?” he asked, swinging his gaze up and down the long hall.

She cleared her throat, wondering how he would take the information she was about to impart. “These are family rooms. They’re really quite good. You must see them.”

He frowned. “I don’t need to see the family rooms. Thank you. I’m not family.”

Yet , she thought to herself. It was a classic sort of Briarwood thought, and the very fact that it had come to her completely unbidden told her that the poor man really just needed to submit to her plans.

He had no idea what was about to hit him, and she absolutely reveled in it. He was meant for her. There was no question about it. She was not one to marvel at fate. No. She simply accepted whatever fate gave her and did her best to enjoy it. Railing against the world only sent one into madness and she, well, she was a very clever and lucid lady. She turned around and smiled at him. “Don’t be silly. There’s a fire right now in my chamber.”

His dark, delicious eyes widened. “Don’t be silly,” he returned. “You’re an unmarried lady.”

She tilted her head to the side with over-exaggerated consideration. “So I am.” Then she smiled. “But this is the Duke of Westleigh’s house, and we do what we want here.”

She thrust her door open and strode in. She stopped and glanced back over her shoulder. “Or are you terribly mediocre?”

Mediocre.

She saw that word hit him. It wasn’t that she was baiting him, but she did want him to come inside. She wanted to know him better. She wanted, well, there were many things that she wanted. Perdita had never kissed anyone. She had never embraced any man before because she did not see any point in it. What was the point in practicing for something that was going to be a sad, shallow imitation of what was to come when one found the love of their life? There could be nothing like it, so why would she want to fill herself with shallow imitations?

And she really did want his kiss. Their exchange in the barn… Dear heaven. She had almost not needed anything to keep her warm in the snow. Her memory of her body against his had been more than enough to keep her very hot indeed.

At long last, she was ready for the real thing. Now, whether he understood that or not, she did not know.

But what better time than the season of Yule, that glorious, wonderful season when darkness came and only the promise of the returning light and the whisper of the future made it bearable for most.

He was the promise of her future. The light in the darkness.

It wasn’t that she’d been in darkness exactly, but life had gotten a bit mundane, and she was ready for the next phase of things. And if she had to entice him? Was she so very wrong?

“Mediocre?” he growled—something he did very, very well—as he crossed the threshold softly. “It’s more that I don’t wish your brother to murder me.”

Perdita laughed, pausing before the light-green chaise longue positioned near the crackling fire. “This is only more evidence that you are not actually friends with Leander. Leander would never murder anyone that I had actually invited into my rooms. He would applaud you.”

He tensed. “He would not. He’s your brother.”

She grinned and repeated herself to affirm what she had said. “He would applaud you. It is not that you are storming my rooms, menacing my untouched femininity. You see, you are doing as I please. It’s not as you please. Do you see the difference?”

His face looked as if she had recited the most challenging of riddles and he was trying to work out the answer.

To the rest of the world, it might sound preposterous. To the Briarwoods, who preferred notoriety to banality, it made perfect sense.

She drew in a breath and explained more simply. “It’s what I want that matters.”

He let out a dry, rueful laugh. “You always get your way, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she said without embarrassment. “Not because I am petulant or difficult, but because I always have the best argument and, quite honestly, I always know what’s best for everyone. I’m a great deal like my mother. You see, I inherited many traits from her.”

“And your mother always knows what’s best?” he drawled.

She gave a quick shrug. “Indeed. There have been very few times when she has set any of us on the wrong path, and usually only because she wasn’t well or we’d run her down a bit.”

She winked. “There are several of us.”

His dark, damp hair teased his temples as he inclined his head. “I was aware yours is a large family.”

“Are you not from a large family?” she asked.

He looked to her mantel which was decorated with carvings of many animals and flowers. “I’m an only child and both of my parents are dead.”

“Oh,” she said softly, her heart aching for him. “I’m so very sorry.”

He shrugged and swung his gaze back to her. “Don’t be,” he replied. “I had an excellent childhood. My parents were wonderful. I loved them very much.”

“Doesn’t that make it almost worse?” she blurted.

Something happened to his face, and he looked as if she’d slapped him. Much to her surprise, he took a step towards her, his polished boots easily sliding over her green and maroon woven carpet that had been brought back from her brother Achilles’ travels.

“I never thought of it like that,” he breathed.

“You should,” she said honestly. “To have all that love and have it taken away from you, and it hasn’t yet been replaced?” She gave him a playful smile. “Or are you in love with someone and I’ve gotten it entirely wrong. I don’t think I have though, have I?”

Again, he looked at her quite flummoxed, his hard handsome face strangely benefiting from his confusion. He looked so kind, so purehearted, under his mask of roughness. “You have not. I have never been in love, and I highly doubt that I ever shall be.”

“What a ridiculous thing to say,” she countered easily, dismissing his comment as if one might have said that tea was a terrible beverage. “That is the whole point of life.”

“Love?” he queried, a dark brow shooting up sardonically.

“Yes, love,” she insisted. “Maybe that’s why you look so dreary. If you do not think it is the entire point.”

“Isn’t the entire point to help our fellow man?” he asked dryly.

“But how can you do that without love?” she all but demanded, having little patience for his denial of the greatest of all emotions.

He scowled. Again. “I’ve never really thought about it.”

“Oh, good,” she breathed with relief. His denial of love was not some great vow made out of pain. But rather a lack of thought. She could work with that. “I’ve come into your life at just the right time. You clearly need someone to point out new avenues to you because all the ones you’ve tried have been exhausted.”

He winced. “You are not wrong there.”

“Good,” she whispered. “Come here and try something new.” She moved to the fire and took in its warmth, allowing the heat to melt the snow that had fallen upon her.

He gazed at her, his eyes wandering over her face. “How have you done this to me? Gotten me into your rooms. Lulled me into intimate conversation? Bloody hell, I’ve shared more with you than any one in ages. Are you a…”

“Witch?” she prompted, not at all surprised by the place his mind had wandered to.

He cleared his throat, uncomfortable to have clearly indicated something so absurd. “Well, that’s not exactly what I was going to say, but it was certainly like that. And it is silly. Forgive me.”

She nodded, appreciating his retraction. “Many people ask silly questions, but I don’t really like that term because it was quite recently that young ladies got into very bad trouble when accused.”

“Fair,” he said with obvious contrition. “Forgive me,” he repeated.

“There’s nothing to forgive,” she said. “I am odd. And that makes people think of the mystical. But you see, people think I am of the fairy folk or holding knowledge beyond this world because I have no lies about me. I simply am myself. I don’t try to hide who I am. I act exactly as I wish, and I have an affinity for all creatures. Animals love me because I am so honest. I can also see what others can’t because I don’t lie to myself.”

She slipped one of the pins from her hair. The dratted thing was poking into her scalp. And of course, her hair began to tumble down due to the wind and weather earlier. She laughed as if this somehow matched exactly what she was trying to say about herself. She was wild. And she wouldn’t apologize for it. “So, people have a tendency to think that I have magic about me. It’s not magic. It’s just honesty. Most people cannot be honest with themselves.”

His eyes had darkened at the sight of her hair falling about her, and his fingers had curled as if he longed to reach out and stroke those locks. “Not only are you honest,” he said, his voice a deep hum, “you really have very few boundaries about relating how you are to the world.”

“Oh,” she exclaimed, not bothering to hide her disappointment at his reply. “Do you wish me to? Would you prefer that I made pretty speeches and hid behind a fan?”

“You don’t have a fan,” he pointed out.

She could not be down for long and so she waggled her brows and teased, “I could get one. I do know how to use it. My mother was a great actress, after all.”

“I am aware of that,” he said. “And if I am honest, I wish I could have seen her. I love the theater. It’s one of the only reprieves from this cruel life. She was supposedly unparalleled in her skill.”

He drew in a long breath, causing his waistcoat and linen shirt to strain against his formidable musculature. “Now, what is it that you wish of me, Lady Perdita? Now that you’ve got me alone in this room and you clearly seem intent on saving me from myself?”

She smiled slowly at him. “Come and stand with me by the fire.”

He was quiet, but that single muscle in his jaw tensed. “You can’t, you know.”

“What?” she breathed, longing to reach out to him.

“Save me from myself,” he replied simply.

This was not going how she had imagined. He was resisting. Hard. “Why would you imagine that is what I wish to do?”

“Isn’t it what people like you want to do with wounded creatures?” he challenged. “Worse still, isn’t that what ladies want in general? All the novels tell them to do it. They see a man whose heart is hard and are determined to soften it. It is not a wise thing to do.”

She tsked at his warning. For all wounded creatures resisted being helped. At first. “I have no desire to save you from yourself, my lord. I have a desire to return you to yourself.” She paused. “How does that sound?”

“Impossible,” he replied.

“I like impossible,” she returned. “Now, come here. Christmas is coming, and I think that we should enter into it with frivolity and joy, don’t you?”

He stared at her as if he was considering this. “I don’t engage in flirtations.”

“Nor do I,” she whispered, tilting her face upward as if offering her lips to him. “Yet, you’re going to kiss me.”

“Am I?” he growled.

“Indeed, you are.”