“And so I couldn’t,” she said.
“Very well, then,” he said, drawing her back into his arms. “This is my reward and can be done my way. Right?” “Right,” she said warily.
And this time he plunged his tongue into her mouth and took full value for his winnings.
“They look rather naked, don’t they, poor snowmen?” he said when it was over. “Wait here.”
He was back a couple of minutes later with two carrots and several small pieces of coal. Soon both snowmen had orange noses, black eyes, and an array of black buttons. Lord Wetherby and Rosamund stood together, hand in hand, laughing and admiring their handiwork.
“The Reeveses and your coachman will think we are mad,” Rosamund said.
“Aren’t we?” he said. “And there aren’t any angels yet. I want you to make me one.”
“No sooner said than done,” she said, and she fell backward into the snow, swished her arms and legs carefully out to the sides, and got up slowly. “You see? A perfect white angel. Let’s see if you can make one too.”
“I don’t think I’m angel material,” he said.
“Are you afraid of losing a little of your dignity?” she asked.
He looked at her sidelong again and threw himself back into the snow. He copied her movements.
“But you are not supposed to whip up a blizzard,” she said, laughing. “Gently!”
She was standing close to his feet. He reached out with one booted foot suddenly, and before she realized what he was about to do, he caught her behind one knee with it. She toppled with a shriek on top of him.
“You weren’t by any chance making fun of me, were you?” he asked, his arms going about her.
She looked down into his face and giggled. “Never,” she said.
“Or taunting my clumsiness?”
“What clumsiness?”
“Or asking to be punished?”
“What is the punishment?”
“A thorough kissing.”
“Oh,” she said, still laughing. “Perhaps I am a little guilty then, Justin.”
“The jury agrees with you,” he said. “The judge has passed sentence. Two minutes at least.”
“Oh.”
“As soon as you have stopped giggling."
She giggled.
“Three if you won’t stop,” he said. “Contempt of court.”
She giggled.
And was forced to serve the full sentence.
“Rosamund,” he said, looking up into her face, which he held above his with both hands. They were both serious and gazing into each other’s eyes. “You aren’t sorry, are you?”
“About making fun of you?” she said. “No, not at all.”
