Chapter Seven #2
She thought about this for a moment and then locked her eyes with his. “What I want, what I should want, and what I desire are not exactly congruent.”
So, the duke wasn’t what she wanted.
Good.
“I can imagine what you ought to desire to be duchess?”
Her eyes drooped away from his gaze. Sebastian brought a finger to her chin and nudged her gaze back to his.
She bit down on her lip.
“I can also imagine, Madeleine, that your desires transcend proving your mother wrong.”
“H-how would you know what I desire, Sebastian?” It was the first time she used his given name. And just like that, his heart sank with the realization of why it bothered him so that she asked about the duke.
He wished she’d ask about him.
But he was no duke. She couldn’t use him to prove her mother wrong.
Unless…
“Perhaps I could help you.”
“Maddie, for my friends.”
“I am your friend now?” His stomach leapt with joy, but it was also a shortcoming, for he wanted more than mere friendship with this beauty.
She bit her lip and gave a sweet frown. “You’d help me?”
“Always.” His cold gone and the fog lifted from his head, he only had one thought on his mind. “Have you ever thought about your first kiss?”
She jerked back, her eyes wide.
“Excuse me?”
“To know what you truly desire, and whether it’s worth proving your mother wrong, perhaps your first kiss shall reveal more of your desires than you imagine.”
She arched a brow and swallowed visibly.
“Thus,” Sebastian pressed on, “it’s not merely the rank of a man or his ability to make you a duchess that should factor in the triumph over your mother.
” Sebastian tried to look away and looked back at the estate.
They were truly alone. And he was absolutely incapable of resisting the urge to look deeply at her eyes.
“Take me, for instance. All I could offer a woman would be the title of marchioness. But there are other factors, such as a proper kiss, that I am sure to add to the weighing scale in my favor as opposed to anyone else in the race.”
What are you doing? Stop. Before there is no return.
Maddie’s mouth fell open and there was the faintest gasp.
It was lovely.
The sort of angelic shock of a virgin that Sebastian would love to hear more often.
In even more secluded places.
She blinked up at him, and in her eyes he glimpsed the intrigue, the hesitation, and all the questions left unasked.
“Maddie?”
“I never thought about being kissed before.” Sebastian stilled. She sounded too bloody intrigued. “Say, can a woman initiate a kiss?”
“I-Initiate.” He tasted the words as realization washed over him. “Not good. A woman should never initiate a kiss.”
“Never?”
Sebastian cleared his throat and amended, “Not if she’s a lady. An unattached woman should never initiate a kiss.”
“I see,” she said, and a dark curl fell from her coiffure and hung over her cheek from under the ermine hat. Sebastian hesitated at first but then he reached for the delicate strand of hair and tucked it behind her ear.
“However, I hope your first kiss will be perfection.”
“Why?”
“Then you’ll know what you desire, Maddie.”
And perhaps it will be me.
*
When Maddie rose that morning, the last thing she imagined doing was walking arm-in-arm with the still stuffy-nosed Marquess of Cambridge.
And not just in the literal sense.
The man not only sniffled like a dying hedgehog, but he also had an infuriating knack for sticking his nose where it most certainly did not belong—into her thoughts, her principles, and worse, her desires.
He’d spoken of kissing. Desires. Her mother. In the daylight, it all felt inappropriate—unspeakably so. But it had also left a mark.
Now, walking beside him, her arm tucked neatly into his, Maddie could not stop thinking about that particular remark.
I can also imagine that your desires transcend proving your mother wrong.
Did they?
Maddie wasn’t so sure. She certainly didn’t want to dwell on the topic of her mother. Most of that was a subject she kept tightly shuttered, even from her closest friends.
And yet she had told him.
She’d told him she wanted to prove her mother wrong.
That she was meant for more than the first gentleman who offered for her.
She was worthy of more, wasn’t she? Her gaze lifted to him briefly, only to be struck by the clean, heady scent of him.
Not cologne. Something warmer. Soap, maybe.
Or leather and starch and skin. Masculine.
It filled her head more swiftly than it ought.
And now that the feverish sheen had left his skin, she could appreciate his handsomeness more fully. And his build. His coat hugged him just so, the cut of his shoulders clear. The strong forearms beneath his sleeves. The easy strength in how he moved.
This man was all man.
And kissing Sebastian would be infinitely more interesting than kissing Paisley. As of late, when Maddie tried to picture the duke, her imagination faltered. The vision blurred. Because another man’s mouth came to mind. One far more expressive. One far more maddening.
Maddie blinked hard. She had to stop this.
She didn’t even know if a kiss could reveal so much. Could it? She imagined it perfectly, yes. Soft at first, curious. And then…
No. No, no. Madness.
She shook her head, frustrated at herself.
How had he gotten into her head so thoroughly?
She needed a distraction.
Maddie’s arms slipped from his and she walked past him, straight to a thick, untouched patch of snow. She crouched, scooped a proper handful, and began patting it into a compact ball.
Perfect. Cold. Solid. Satisfying.
She may not have answers, but this, at least, she could control.
“What are you doing?” He directed a skeptical look at the snow. “Your fingers will freeze.”
Maddie grinned at him before throwing the ball of snow at him, which exploded dead center on his chest. She loved the snow and had yet to meet an opponent who could beat her at snowball fights.
He cast her an astonished look. “Are you mad?”
“Who is the mad one here?” she quipped back. “Raising topics such as desire and kissing. I suddenly have a desire to pummel you with snow.” She made another snowball. This one hit him square on the shoulder.
“Madeleine!”
She laughed at his use of her full name. “Have you never been in a snow fight?”
“I can’t say that I have in years.”
“I suppose you are no good at having fun.”
Sebastian narrowed his gaze in a way that made her skin prickle—half mischief, half warning.
He bent, scooping snow with long fingers.
Maddie’s eyes widened. “Oh no you don’t!”
Too late.
He tossed it, fast and without ceremony, and she only just side-stepped in time. Her boots sank half a foot into a soft drift, snow clinging to her skirts, but she didn’t care. She dropped to scoop her own handful, cold biting her gloves, and lobbed it toward him with a triumphant whoop.
It smacked the side of his head with a glorious thwack.
She punched the air. “Yes! Headshot!”
He turned slowly, snow in his hair, a smear of slush dripping down one brow.
“How is this possible?” he asked, dumbfounded. “How are you so good at this?”
“I’ve had some practice,” she said sweetly.
“You are enjoying this far too much, I think.”
“It’s quite rejuvenating, I daresay. Exceptionally good for the mood.”
He snorted and shook his fingers, sending snow flurries flying. “Now you’re just mocking me.”
She gave him her most innocent look—one he clearly didn’t buy.
“My fingers are bloody freezing.”
“Can’t take the cold?” she teased. “Then surrender and I shall show mercy.”
“I never surrender.”
“Neither do I.”
That was apparently the wrong thing to say. He lunged, and she squealed as snow exploded at her feet.
Another snowball, this one striking her leg. The chill bit through her skirts, but the ripple of thrill was entirely unwelcome.
Or rather, far too welcome.
She bent and scooped a fresh handful, her breath catching as he grinned—grinned!—and ran in a wide arc to dodge. Too slow. Her snowball hit him square in the shoulder.
He clutched the spot, dramatically staggering backward as though mortally wounded. “I shall never recover.”
“You’ll live.”
“But I may never live to truly love.”
“Such a loss,” she called, laughing as she danced backward. She hadn’t laughed like this in ages—not the well-mannered chuckles of polite company, but a bubbling, unrestrained, childish joy that left her breathless.
Then splat.
A snowball caught her square in the stomach.
Her laughter stopped with a gasp. The cold seeped straight through the wool and petticoats to her skin. She stumbled a step back and clutched her belly. “Oof.”
Sebastian’s face went from smug to horrified in half a second.
“Oh no. I didn’t… Are you…”
“I’m fine,” she said between shaky breaths. Then she started laughing again, harder this time, her knees folding until she dropped to a crouch, hugging herself.
His shoulders relaxed. “You scared me.”
“You hit me in the spleen,” she managed, giggling.
He crouched beside her, snow dusting his hair and lashes. He looked absurd. And adorable. And far too close.
“I surrender,” he whispered. “Truly this time.”
Their faces were only inches apart now. Maddie’s laughter quieted. Her breath fogged between them, visible in the space they didn’t cross.
She swallowed.
This close, she could see the faint stubble along his jaw, the line of his lips, the way his brown eyes weren’t so unreadable anymore.
They were warm. And trained entirely on her.
Her heart gave a hard thump.
He tilted his head slightly. “You look cold.”
“I’m not,” she lied. “But the flask is by now.”
He reached up and gently flicked a bit of snow from her temple. The brief touch stole the warmth from her breath.
“I should get back inside,” she murmured, not moving. “Perhaps I’ll get some pine or tea later.”
“Yes.” But he didn’t move either.
“So soon?”
He hunched down, breathing heavily. “I haven’t recovered from my cold yet.” As if to prove his words, he sneezed.
Indeed, Sebastian made a good friend. But one thing was for certain; he was a distraction. One Maddie couldn’t afford, unless she wanted to give the wrong impression to the duke. One she even might want to give.
What should she do?