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The question brought his attention sharply back to the sky.

“It has not risen above the trees,” he said, though his voice was tighter than before. “But we cannot remain here.”

Marina nodded, and he helped her sit upright.

He was about to rise when she glanced toward the horizon once more, a wistful expression crossing her face.

“I used to watch the sunrise with my sisters,” she said softly.

He looked at her.

“We would sit together for hours, speaking about absolutely nothing and everything. Sometimes we watched the sunset as well. I think those were my favorite evenings.”

He could imagine it: Marina laughing among her family, surrounded by the warmth and companionship he had so rarely known.

“Then why did you remain in that isolated cottage?” he asked. “If you enjoyed their company so much, why not return to them?”

Her smile faded.

“My family has been through quite a lot,” she answered after a moment. “Perhaps one day I shall tell you about them. Just not today.”

He saw the pain beneath her words and regretted having asked.

“I did not want my reputation to affect them,” she continued.

He wanted to tell her that she had done nothing to deserve the cruelty of others. He wanted to ask what had happened to make her believe otherwise.

Instead, he found himself watching her face.

The cold had painted her cheeks pink. A loose strand of hair clung to her skin, and he had the absurd urge to brush it away. His hand lifted almost without his permission.

He was close enough to kiss her.

The realization struck him with such force that, for several heartbeats, there was nothing in the world but the space between their mouths.

Then a faint prickling spread across his cheek.

Ambrose went still.

He knew that sensation.

His hand dropped. He turned toward the horizon, his heart suddenly pounding for an entirely different reason.

Above the distant trees, the first edge of the sun had appeared. She turned her head into the direction he’d been looking in.

“Has the sun started to…” she began anxiously.

“Yes,” Ambrose answered, his voice strained despite his attempt to suppress it. “We must return to the manor.”

He rose from the snow, raising one hand to shield his face as he turned toward the manor. The first rays of sunlight were slipping between the trees, casting long golden streaks across the garden.

He had been careless. Unforgivably careless.

Ambrose began walking, his strides hurried and uneven. Already, an unpleasant prickling was spreading across his cheeks. He lowered his head, trying to keep the growing brightness from his eyes.

Marina hurried after him.

“Ambrose, wait.”