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He cocked his head.
‘You were saying?’
I swallowed. The safety was on. I knew that. And I told myself that over and over again. But the black hole of that muzzle, right underneath the two ice-cold orbs that were his eyes…
He dropped the gun. It landed in the snow with a soft thud.
‘Listen to me.’ His voice sent a renewed shiver through me - and not one of cold, nor of fear. ‘My sister is a young lady. The only stance a young lady needs to learn is a graceful one. The only firearm a lady ever needs to touch is none at all. Especially if that young lady is my sister.’
‘Indeed?’ I raised an eyebrow. ‘And what would you think of a girl who flouts those rules? A girl who does what she wants, when she wants?’
His mouth opened, preparing to condemn that girl, to fling curses at her and everything she did - and then his mouth closed again. And opened. And closed again. All that came out was silence.
Slowly, my defiant expression melted away, and a grin spread over my face. He couldn’t. He could not condemn me. Not anymore.
With a growl that sounded as if it were ripped from his very soul, Mr Ambrose grabbed me by the shoulders. I was lifted up off the ground, flung backwards until we were in the shadow of a colonnade. Whirling me around, he pushed me up against the closest column and his mouth came crashing down on mine, demanding, devouring, devastating.
‘You,’ he breathed against my mouth, ‘are the most infuriating female I have ever met in my entire life!’
‘Thanks so much for the compliment, Sir.’
With another growl, he plunged his hands into my hair and pressed into me until he had stolen my breath and I didn’t even want to try and get it back.
*~*~**~*~*
The invitations arrived that evening. I was tempted to burn a couple with certain female names on them, but I knew the marchioness would notice and just order new ones. At least I managed, with a bit of water, to smudge the ink on several envelopes addressed to eligible ladies. With luck, they’d get lost in the post.
‘So!’ Breathing a sigh, Lady Samantha gazed after the servant who was riding off on a grey mare, the invitations stashed in his saddlebags. ‘It’s done! Now all we can do is wait and hope.’
‘Yes,’ I mumbled. ‘That the invitations get lost in the mail.’
‘Pardon? What did you say, Mr Linton?’
‘Nothing, Your Ladyship. I was just talking to myself.’
Unfortunately, the post was not obliging enough to mislay our invitations. The replies started coming in the very next day, starting with a beautifully handwritten note from Lady Dorothea Asquith saying that yes, she would be delighted to attend the festivities, and would it be agreeable to the marchioness if she brought her three cousins as well? All three were, of course, very beautiful and agreeable young ladies.
Lady Samantha nearly broke into a spontaneous dance at the reply. And that was only the beginning. Acceptance letters and notes flooded in from all sides, showering the marchioness with thanks and expressing their eager interest in seeing her son, returned to his ancestral seat after so many years abroad. Among the most vocal in their thanks were the officers of the local regiment, who, in this snowy, solitary place, had about as much entertainment as a polar bear floating on an arctic ice floe, and were ravenous for some pretty girls to dance with.
But they’re not nearly enough to keep all the girls occupied! Besides, what potbellied corporal can compare with the most powerful, heartbreakingly handsome man of the British Empire?
None. Which was why acceptances from ladies kept pouring in.
Finally, I’d had enough. It was time to prepare for battle. A battle not just for Mr Ambrose, but for the approval of his mother and sister. And that was a battle I couldn’t win as Mr Victor Linton. I needed to unsheathe different weapons.
Time to give Mr Ambrose and his mother a little surprise.
‘Your Ladyship?’
The Marchioness looked up from the pile of acceptance letters she was studying and beamed. ‘Yes, Mr Linton?’
I took a deep breath.
‘There’s something…’
‘Yes?’
‘I wonder whether I could ask…but no.’ Quickly, I shook my head and took a step back. ‘Forget it.’
