Page 13 of The Dare Before Christmas

Slowly, she swallowed and then raised her gloved hand. The tender skin between the edge of the glove and her sleeve had been badly scratched, blood staining the lace edge of her gown.

“Ouch,” he said with sympathy, reaching for his handkerchief.

Carefully, he inspected the wound, removing any dirt with care, and then wrapped his handkerchief about her wrist.

“It’s clean,” he assured her with a wry smile.

She made an impatient sound, but she seemed less likely to burst into tears now, so that was something.

“Shall I take you back to the house?” he asked cautiously.

She shook her head, not looking at him.

Barnaby sighed. “Victoria—”

“What?” she demanded, turning to glare at him, her green eyes so fierce, so full of pride and uncertainty that he longed to take her in his arms, to kiss her until all those hard edges softened and he could make her smile again.

But that was foolishness. That was the road to destruction.

Yet, despite his instincts screaming at him to get away from her and fast, he could not leave her here, all glittering pride and hurt feelings. So, though a voice inside yelled at him to stop, he reached up and carefully removed the bits of leaf and debris from her thick, dark hair, smoothing an errant curl back behind her ear before reaching for her bonnet. He put it back on her head, untangling the knot of ribbons as she stood still for him, her gaze wary. He lifted her chin and tied a neat bow, as if she were a little girl, not a full-grown woman.

“There,” he said quietly. “Almost as good as new.”

“Almost,” she repeated, the ghost of a smile at her lips, her tone rueful.

Barnaby held her gaze, aware of the glimmer of amusement in the green of her eyes. Her father had eyes that colour, peculiar to the Adolphus clan. The blood staining his handkerchief now might as well be bright blue, for eyes that deep shade of green marked her as being so far above him he felt giddy considering it.

Barnaby let out a breath and took a step back.

“Well, if not back to the house, where to, my lady?” he asked, too aware of the way the light in her eyes died as he broke the intimate moment, as he stepped away and returned to the formality between them upon which he insisted.

Her jaw tightened, her chin going up, and she looked around. Her dark eyebrows drew together. “What’s that?”

Barnaby turned to look in the direction she was staring, seeing nothing but a thickening tangle of bramble and ivy amongst the trees.

“Trouble,” he replied, losing patience with the idea of tramping farther into this unkempt wilderness. Louis had made great strides with the house and garden, but he needed people in here sooner rather than later to thin out this mess, which was doing none of the trees any good as they crowded together, blocking out the light.

Victoria ignored this and walked on.

“I really think—”

“Oh, do hush,” she said impatiently. “I know what you think. You think we should all keep to our places and behave just as we ought, never stepping off the path or doing anything that might make people think badly of us.”

“Oh, now, that’s not fair,” he said, stung by the accusation.

“Isn’t it?” she demanded, quirking one elegantly arched eyebrow. “Prove it, then. Step off the path, Mr Godwin.”

With challenge in her eyes, she turned away from him and walked purposefully onwards, tugging her skirts free of brambles with each step she took.

Barnaby clenched his hands, indignation and annoyance simmering within him. He was very tempted to leave the dratted creature here and go back to the house by himself, except… that was a big fat lie. What she actually tempted him to do, he really did not want to think about, because it was far, far too dangerous.

However, he could not leave the vexing woman out here alone. As much as he needed to put distance between them as soon as possible, his instincts would never allow him to leave her unattended, so he swallowed his ire, battened his less gentlemanly impulses firmly behind bars of iron self-control, and followed her deeper into trouble.

Though her wrist was stinging and throbbing horribly, she was certain there was something buried beneath the thick canopy of ivy. It looked as if there had been something solid there once, more than simply a thicket of trees and brambles.

“Ouch!”

Torie cursed as her foot plunged into a hole beneath the dense layer of dead leaves and bracken. Before she could even begin to overbalance, Mr Godwin’s arm shot out, snatching her about the waist and hauling her back, saving her from falling again. She squealed in shock as she found herself held tight in his arms, her hands grasping his biceps to steady herself. Startled, she gazed up at him, suddenly viscerally aware of something she had not really noticed before: Mr Godwin was remarkably strong. Though she had admired the breadth of his shoulders, she had been ignorant of the depth of muscle she now discovered, hard and unyielding beneath her fingers. Her heart did a peculiar little dance behind her ribs, making her increasingly breathless.