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The world froze around them.
The merriment stilled as something new took its place. Something heady and electric. Something that sparked and heated the air between them. Something that urged Isaac to pull her in closer still.
A snowflake landed on Lady Nightingale’s cheek. It melted against her milky white skin, disappearing as he continued to hold her. Her eyes searched his as though trying to sort out what was happening every bit as much as he was.
As uncertain as Isaac was, he couldn’t seem to force himself to let go.
He didn’t want to let go.
Lady Nightingale fit against him as perfectly as a glove. Like a puzzle piece slipping into place. And yet, there was still so much about her life, about who she was, that he didn’t know.
But he wanted to know.
He wanted it like he’d never wanted anything before.
“Mama, Mama!” Lord Hoskins came running toward them, a long stick in either hand trailing behind him. Ponto, too, bounded behind the boy, a much smaller stick in his mouth.
Isaac and Lady Nightingale broke away at once. She turned toward her son and Isaac took the moment to gather himself.
What had he been thinking? This was Lady Nightingale—this was Mr. Grant’sdaughter. He couldn’t allow himself to develop atendressefor her. Such would be utterly foolish—completely insane.
He’d gotten caught up in the moment. But he wouldn’t allow it to happen again.
Isaac had been taken in once by someone of the Grant family; he wasn’t going to fall a second time.
When Isaac turned back around, the arms had been added to the snowman—whose scarf didnotlook like a noose, no matter what Lady Nightingale said—and she was lifting Lord Hoskins up so that the boy might add the final touch: the worn top hat.
“Isn’t he fine, Mama?” Lord Hoskins asked.
“Oh yes, quite handsome.” Her eyes jumped over to Isaac and back again. “Now,” she said, addressing them both, “how about some hot soup and bread?”
“I’m so hungry,” the boy said adamantly as he scrambled down out of his mother’s arms. “Come on, Ponto. Time to eat.” The two hurried through the snow and back toward the door.
Lady Nightingale moved toward Isaac once more. Her cheeks were pinker than before and her smile more unsure. “Will you come in and join us?”
He shouldn’t. It would only cause problems. It was certainly a bad idea.
“Thank you, I’d like that.” He offered her his arm and mentally kicked himself when she took it.
It seemed his curiosity was proving as dangerous as she was enticing.
