Since yesterday, she’d given up any pretense of keeping Mr. Hale at a distance. This morning, he’d touched her often, seemingly casual little contacts, helping her carry things, or lifting her down off the ladder. And she, knowing the risks she took, hadn’t said a word to deter him.
Perhaps she was already skating after all—on very thin ice indeed.
Maggie might be inexperienced, but she wasn’t stupid. She knew a girl asked for trouble when she encouraged a young man to touch her and smile at her and spend time alone with her.
“It might be fun.” She stepped forward and took his hand, loving the way those long fingers wrapped around hers.
He was so warm. That was irresistible on a cold day like this. Goodness, it was irresistible in a cold life like hers.
She was falling, whatever promises he made to her. And she wasn’t doing much to save herself.
“Is there a pond?” The spark of approval in his green eyes made her heart swell with happiness. “There must be, or they wouldn’t have skates here.”
“There’s one that freezes solid most winters. Shall we go and see?”
“Get changed, and I’ll meet you down here.”
She rushed upstairs on feet that flew, because she didn’t want to be away from Mr. Hale any longer than she needed to be. After all, she’d be without him for a long time once he left her.
***
There was something evocative about silent woods where the only tracks belonged to wild creatures like deer and pheasants and rabbits. It was still freezing, but the snow overnight hadn’t been as heavy.
The pond, as Joss expected in this magic kingdom, was perfect for skating. Long, and wide enough for acrobatics should he decide to show off, and fringed with willows turned to white lace with frost. A thick branch even extended over the ice, ideal for them to sit on while they strapped on their skates.
Slipping a little, he ventured out to test the thickness, but a lifetime’s skating with his family already told him that the ice would easily bear the weight of two people.
Margaret hovered on the bank, looking uncharacteristically nervous. Carefully he made his way back to her. The ice was deuced slippery, which boded well for a good afternoon’s sport.
She was bundled up again, like she’d been yesterday. When he reached out to take one gloved hand, he was pleased at how readily she accepted his touch.
He’d been touching her most of the day. The pleasure had soon turned to torture. Because the brief, chaste contacts weren’t enough. He wanted more than to place a hand at her waist to steady her as she climbed up to drape ivy over a picture, or suffer the cool brush of her fingers as she passed him the scissors.
His fingers itched to linger and explore. His arms ached to draw her close. He burned to kiss her.
Hell, he wanted to do much more than that.
Margaret had no idea how close he’d come this morning to slamming her up against the wall and kissing her to the edge of madness.
But every time his desire threatened to overmaster his honor, she looked at him with such shy trust that he couldn’t do it. She was looking at him like that now.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared,” Joss said in gentle reproof.
She cast an uncertain glance at the pond. “I’d much rather watch you.”
“Not good enough. I’ll hold your hand.”
More torture, not that he had any intention of denying himself the privilege. He squeezed her fingers in silent encouragement and pulled her toward the branch over the pond. When she resisted, he looked back with a smile.
“Don’t be a goose, Margaret. A woman who can defend her castle from a great brute of an invader can’t be scared of a little ice.”
“But I didn’t. The brute got in anyway.”
Yes, he had, hadn’t he? “You’re wittering again, my girl.”
Spreading his feet to keep his balance, he caught her round the waist and lifted her across to sit on the branch.
She scowled at him with adorable displeasure. “You can’t win every argument by grabbing me and putting me where you want me.”