Chapter 7
CHAPTER 7
C aroline sucked in a sharp breath, her chest tightening. “All three?” she whispered.
The earl nodded. “Almost sixteen years ago. A single carriage accident. My sister Catherine and I were spared.”
The words were flat, emotionless. But the weight of them … she felt it. Caroline hesitated momentarily before reaching out, her gloved fingers brushing lightly over his. “I’m sorry,” she said softly. “That must have been …” She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Painful.”
Lord Walcott didn’t speak for a while. Didn’t pull away from her touch but didn’t acknowledge it either.
Finally, he exhaled. “Who did you lose?”
She carefully withdrew her touch from his. “My father.”
His gaze flicked to her. “How long ago did you lose him?”
She smiled at him. “I was about ten when he died. I remember him, but … the memories fade more each year. And yet … whenever I look at the stars, I remember climbing the trees back home with him. I remember the way he laughed when I reached the highest branch. The way he scolded me for scaring my mother half to death. And in that moment … I remember him well. It is why I climb whenever I can. Living in London makes it difficult to enjoy this freedom.”
The night stretched around them, quiet and still, save for the soft whisper of the wind rustling through the trees. The cold pressed in, sharp yet oddly invigorating. Caroline let herself sit in silence for several long moments, her gaze drifting over the stars.
The wind picked up, curling through the trees in a sudden gust, lifting the strands of her loose hair and sending a fresh chill racing over her skin. She shivered before she could stop herself.
“Come closer,” the earl murmured, his voice low and even. “I’ll keep you warm.”
Caroline turned to glare at him, narrowing her eyes in suspicion. He laughed, the deep, rich sound striking an odd yet pleasurable note inside her body. Heat flushed through her, and she quickly looked away, irritated at her reaction.
“Think of me as one of your male cousins,” he drawled, still amused.
She scoffed. “That is not even remotely possible.”
Good humor rushed through her despite herself, but another sharp gust of wind had her shivering again, her arms tightening around herself. The redingcote was not enough protection against the wintry night.
Lord Walcott sighed. “Come here before you freeze. Or allow me to assist you down.”
She hesitated. But the cold bit through her coat, and reluctantly, she edged closer. As soon as she did, the remarkable warmth of his body seeped into hers, chasing away the cold like a slow-burning fire. It felt too good. A soft, involuntary sound slipped from her lips before she stiffened against the sensation.
Daniel stilled beside her, then chuckled. “Relax, I won’t bite.”
She gave him a sidelong glance, a small smirk forming. “I am familiar with men of your ilk, Lord Walcott. I cannot help but be on guard.”
He lifted a brow. “Men of my ilk?”
She nodded primly. “Those who are titled, wealthy, and well-connected. Men who would seduce a woman like me with no regard for her sensibilities or reputation.”
He considered this, his expression thoughtful. “Ah. A rake, then.”
“Precisely.”
A beat of silence stretched between them.
Then, quietly, he said, “I would only take you to my bed if you wanted it as well … and if you understood I do not promise tomorrow.”
Caroline gasped, her head snapping toward him in shock. And that was when she saw it. The unmistakable heat in his gaze. Dark. Intense.
Desiring her.
Her pulse jumped in response, a strange, answering pull tugging her toward him, an awareness coiling low in her stomach. She stiffened her spine. Resisted.
“Well,” she drawled, tilting her chin up. “I suppose that means you would never consider marrying a woman like me.”
His lips curved slightly, but there was no amusement in his tone when he said, “You presume correctly.”
Caroline had known the answer before she asked. Still, it stung. Bluntly, she demanded, “Why?”
He exhaled, his eyes drifting back to the stars. “You have some connection through your cousins, but you lack wealth and reputation.”
Her cheeks burned, her heart clenching tight. She had walked right into that insult. For a long moment, she looked at him. Then, slowly, she turned her gaze away, her lips pressing together.
A beat passed before Daniel sighed.
“I did not mean to wound you,” he said, his voice softer than before. “I am accused of rudeness and arrogance often. Honesty is rarely appreciated.”
Caroline took a breath, forcing herself to shake off the sting of his words. She turned back to him with a half-smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I suppose that is something we have in common, my lord.”
He watched her, something unreadable flickering in his gaze. Caroline ignored it because she would not allow his words or attraction to affect her. She took a slow, steadying breath before offering him a small smile. “Thank you for sitting with me, Lord Walcott.”
The earl inclined his head, his gaze steady. “You are welcome.”
She hesitated, then glanced down. “I suppose I am ready to descend.”
He studied her for a moment before shifting, positioning himself slightly lower on the branch. “I’ll go first.”
He moved with effortless grace, descending the tree with measured ease as if he had done it a hundred times before. When he reached the lowest branch, he dropped lightly onto the snow-covered ground, his boots sinking slightly.
He turned and looked up at her. “Now you.”
Caroline bit her lip, lowering herself carefully. The bark was slicker than she expected, her fingers struggling to find purchase.
“Take your time,” he murmured.
She did, slowly maneuvering down, pausing when she reached the second-lowest branch. She hesitated, eyeing the drop.
“Let go,” Daniel said.
She narrowed her eyes. “That is easy for you to say.”
“I will catch you,” he said, his tone calm and sure.
Her breath curled in the cold air as she debated. Then she let go. Strong hands wrapped around her waist, steady and firm, breaking her fall effortlessly. For a moment, she was pressed against him, his body solid and warm against hers.
Her breath hitched. The air between them tightened, the night suddenly too quiet. Then, with obvious reluctance, he set her down. Caroline stepped back, her heart thrumming. “That was …”
“Unnecessarily dramatic?”
She huffed but smiled despite herself. “I was going to say well done.”
His mouth quirked. “Of course you were.”
She rolled her eyes and turned toward the manor. They walked in silence, their boots crunching over the fresh snow, the wind curling softly around them. Inside, the house was still, the only sound the faint crackle of distant fires and the occasional creak of the old manor settling. Caroline was painfully aware of his presence beside her. The way his shoulder brushed hers every so often. The way he smelled—clean, crisp, with a hint of leather and something distinctly male. And most unsettling of all, the peculiar way her heart trembled in her chest.
They ascended the staircase, their footsteps muffled by the plush carpet and walked down the long hallway. The sconces cast a soft golden glow, flickering shadows stretching along the walls. Once they reached her door, she mustered a polite smile, her fingers curling around the doorknob.
“Good night, Lord Walcott.” She turned the handle, ready to step inside, when his voice stopped her cold.
“I believe you are forgetting something, Miss Fairbanks.”
Caroline’s fingers tightened around the knob. Slowly, she turned to face him. “Am I?”
His eyes gleamed with lazy amusement. “We have yet to discuss the matter of my stolen wooden horse.”
Her breath hitched. She gasped, muttering, “What stolen wooden horse?”
Daniel smiled, slow and knowing. “The one I already saw tucked neatly away in the smaller parlor, buried under a pile of presents.”
Her mind raced, calculating quickly. “I paid you handsomely for it.”
His gaze darkened with something wicked. “You stole it, Miss Fairbanks, and I do not believe I shall let you get away with it.”
Her heart thumped. “Why?”
“Because,” he murmured, stepping closer, “the wooden horse is mine.”
She bit her lip, weighing her next words carefully. Then she exhaled and said, “Might I prevail upon you to gift it to Lily? I am happy for you to claim the present as your own, so long as she receives it.”
The earl considered her, his expression unreadable. “I might be convinced.”
Something in his voice gave her pause. She narrowed her eyes. “Convinced how?”
His lips curved, deviltry dancing in his gaze. “A kiss.”
Caroline stiffened, heat pooling low in her belly. “One kiss?”
His eyes flared slightly, his gaze dropping briefly to her mouth before he met her eyes again.
“Yes,” he murmured. “One.”
She huffed, crossing her arms. “We need a contract.”
He laughed, a deep, rich sound. “And who will you take your grievance should I renege on my promise?”
She smirked. “Any one of my male cousins or cousins-in-law. And while you are powerful, so are they. Should they know of your kiss, despite your … views, I am sure they might persuade you to marry me or make your life … unbearable . So it is in your best interest I do not feel grieved. I will only feel that way if you go back on your word. Once the presents are given away, I will burn the contract before your eyes.”
His smile widened. “Very clever indeed.”
He stepped toward her, the space between them shrinking into nothing.
“We have a deal,” he said smoothly. “A single kiss and the wooden horse is completely yours—no strings attached. I need not even claim it as my gift.”
Her breath caught.
“You mean to kiss me here?” she whispered.
He nodded to the ceiling. “You are standing under a sprig of mistletoe.”
She snapped her head up, her stomach sinking as she caught sight of the traitorous greenery hanging above them. Scowling, she muttered, “I will wring my cousins’ necks.”
Then, without another word, she pushed open her door and stepped inside.
The earl followed. She turned, her eyes narrowing. “Are you not afraid of entering a lady’s chambers?”
He leaned against the doorframe, his silver gaze dark and knowing. “Are you not afraid of kissing me in the hallway?”
Caroline stilled.
“If someone were to witness it,” she murmured, her voice quieter now, “I would suffer the humiliation of you refusing to marry me.”
Something shifted in his gaze. A flicker of something she could not name.
Then, before she could process it, he stepped inside—
And before she could protest, he closed the door, hauled her into his arms, and took her mouth with his.