Page 26 of The Dare Before Christmas

Reluctantly, for he sensed danger in her nearness, Barnaby returned and sat down beside her, his back to the wall.

Victoria gave him a wary glance and sat up, offering him his coat. Barnaby took it and settled it around her shoulders. “You’re cold.”

She frowned at him. “I expect you are, too. You’re only in your shirtsleeves now.”

She glanced at his bare forearms and her cheeks went a bit pink before she looked hurriedly away again. Despite himself, Barnaby could not help but smile.

“I’m fine. I’ve never felt the cold much. Too many freezing holidays with my aunt in her draughty castle in Scotland, and once you’ve swum in a Scottish loch a time or two, nothing else will ever seem cold again.”

She gave him a sceptical glance, and he smiled at her.

“It’s true. Here,” he pressed his hand to her cheek, his warm palm registering the chill of her skin. She really was cold.

“Oh,” she said, closing her eyes and shivering beneath his touch. “You are warm.”

Barnaby did not know if it was her words, or the shiver, but despite their unprepossessing surroundings, he felt a thrill of desire and snatched his hand back. The sensible thing to do would be to get up and concentrate on finding a way out of here but her nose was pink with the cold, and he could see her breath clouding on the air in the lamplight. The last thing he needed was for her to take ill, he reasoned. It would only be gentlemanly to keep her warm.

“Come here, I’ll warm you up for a minute before I try to find us a way out of here.”

He put his arm around her, and she nestled into him without the slightest hesitation. Barnaby did his best to ignore how good it felt to hold her close, how perfectly her soft curves snuggled against him, as if made precisely to fit there. Her head rested upon his chest, one hand splayed out on his waistcoat. It was a warm, serviceable wool waistcoat with a subdued design in shades of brown that he’d liked because it made him think of autumn and falling leaves. He could not shake the idea that her hand ought to rest upon some lavishly embroidered silk affair of the kind Louis César would wear, and which would consume Barnaby’s carefully arranged budget for the entire month in one fell swoop. Not that he was penniless, far from it, and he had plans, not that anyone knew about those. Not even Louis. He’d told no one about it, because gentlemen did not work—even if the alternative was starving, apparently—and if his father found out about it, there would be the almightiest scene. Though, now he came to think about it, he didn’t much care what his father thought.

“Huh,” he said, so surprised by this epiphany that the sound emerged without him considering it.

Victoria’s head came up, regarding him with interest.

“Er… nothing. Just thinking,” he said awkwardly, before returning to the idea.

In his youth, he would have bent over backwards to please his family, but since he’d cut them from his life for the sake of his own sanity, he had not reconsidered what that meant. He was free of them. Free of their expectations. He did not care if his father did not like that he was running his own business. It was none of his affair, not any longer. They had disowned Barnaby long before he had them, so now… they could go to the devil. His father did not support him, had not done so since he came of age, for the family coffers could not stretch that far, though his older brothers had always seemed to have the best of everything. Barnaby shoved that thought aside. He was not prone to envy and resentment, but that did not mean it was comfortable to remember how often he’d been left out in the cold.

“I’m sorry.”

Barnaby turned to find Victoria staring at him, her eyes swimming with tears.

“I’m so sorry, Barnaby. You’re right, this is all my fault. We might be trapped here for days, if they find us at all. I ought never to have teased you into coming with me. I ought to have waited. You must think me horribly spoiled, and I’m sorry for the spoon comment. You ought not be forced to marry someone you don’t love, just because they were st-stupid enough to—”

Barnaby’s heart lurched at the misery in her eyes, at the way her voice trembled, and he could not stand it, could not stand for her to think he did not care, that he did not think her the most wonderful, beautiful creature in the entire world, so he kissed her.

Her words became a gasp as he slid his hand around the back of her neck and pulled her in, kissing her until he felt her trembling ease, until he felt her relax in his embrace. He drew back then, staring down at her and wiping away a tear that had fallen, leaving a wet track through the dust upon her beautiful face.

“Don’t be sorry,” he said, realising he meant it. “You’re brave and adventurous and that’s a wonderful thing. Who else could have found this place but you? And it must be connected to the hidden treasure, I’m certain of it. Perhaps we’ll find it yet. I’m glad I came, Victoria, and yes, I am worried, but we’ll be fine. We’ll find a way out together because we are resourceful people who don’t give up. Yes?”

“Yes,” she whispered, staring at him, a look of such adoration in her eyes that his chest ached.

Did she really care for him? Could it be real, not just some young woman’s fancy?

Barnaby hesitated, uncertain he should say the words circling his brain.

“I’d marry you in a heartbeat, Victoria, if I was certain it was what you wanted, that you wouldn’t come to regret it, but I’m not certain. Not at all. I do not think you realise how profoundly your life would change, and I do not want to see the look in your eyes when reality dawns.”

She returned an imperious look of such irritation he almost laughed. There was the duke’s daughter. “Barnaby, I’m not a fool, and I’m not so spoiled as all that. Besides which, I have a dowry. Papa was very generous and—”

“Don’t tell me!” he said, holding up a hand. “Please. I don’t want to know. I don’t doubt it’s a sum large enough that I would consider myself wealthy, but it’s still a drop in the ocean compared to your father’s wealth, compared to the status you have now as his daughter, or the many grand estates you can call home.”

“But those things are Papa and Mama’s, Barnaby, not mine, and we do not live like royalty. Papa despises ostentation, and Mama keeps our feet on the ground.”

Barnaby sighed. This conversation was getting them nowhere. “It’s of no matter, Victoria. We really don’t know each other very well in any case. Just… let us concentrate on getting out of here for now. We can discuss the rest later.”

He got to his feet and Victoria stared up at him, her expression considering before she took the hand he held out to her.