Something struck her hard between the shoulder blades, pulling a gasp from her. She angled a furious glare over her shoulder. “How dare—?”
She ducked just as he tossed another snowball her way. Unlike the other, this one sailed past her shoulder. “Hmph. Not so very good at this after—”
He sent another one flying, and she shifted, this one grazing the top of her bonnet and knocking it loose.
“Oh, you are insufferable,” Claire hissed, and pausing in her climb, she hastily constructed another missile, and even as she slowly steadied herself, she hurled it the handful of paces back at him. “This is for being rude.”
With a grim little smile, he took the shot to the middle of his chest, the projectile exploding upon the midnight jacket he wore.
Caleb cupped his hands around his mouth. “What else do you got, My Queen?” With that, he held his arms open in invitation.
Oh, the great lummox. Fury was so hot that she couldn’t even feel the cold that had her teeth knocking together. “A-and this is for c-calling me My Queen.” She puffed from the cold and her exertions. “I hate”—with each word, she tossed another snowball at his dark jacket—“that silly form of address.” She launched another snowball, which took his hat off. She let out a cry of triumph, and gathering up her hems, Claire sprinted as best as she was able.
“I allowed those other shots, Claire Poplar,” he drawled. “But that was a step too far.” He lunged.
On a breathless laugh, she darted to the left.
Shockingly agile for one of his immense height and breadth, he matched her movements perfectly.
Claire bolted right, zigzagging as she went, and raced ahead, with Caleb in pursuit.
“Hellcat,” he shouted, catching her square in the back with a snowball of his own. The wet, compact missile burst upon impact, and Claire laughed. His own amusement blended with hers, sincere and real, and the sound of it left her buoyant.
She raced on. Even as he could have overtaken her, he was content with the game they now played.
Her earlier anger with him faded. Where anger had once come so easily to her, now it was impossible to hold tight to that sentiment whenever he was near. And she wanted to. Lord, how she wanted to. Because that would make their parting so much easier.
Shoving aside the melancholy thought, Claire shrieked and fell to a knee.
Caleb’s laughter cut out. “Claire!” He was immediately there, on a knee beside her, his features a study of concern. “Are you all—”
Raising a hand filled with snow, she wiped it over his face and mouth.
His dark eyebrows shot up. “Oh, you hellcat.” He was already reaching for her.
Claire squeaked and used her bent knee to propel herself upright, but it was too late.
Catching her by the waist, Caleb brought her down the remainder of the way.
Only, he suddenly shifted, reversing them so that he came down on his back with her draped across him.
Their chests rose and fell, both from their playful exertions and the biting cold.
Something different sprang to life between them. His gaze caught upon her mouth, and of its own volition, her tongue came out, and she traced that seam.
She now recognized this emotion as passion. Desire. Because this man who now held her had been the one to open her soul to those gifts.
His eyes shifted slightly, locking with hers, and as one, their smiles faded.
Some years ago, Faye had shown her a rendering of an operation that had been performed, where hypnosis had been used to sedate the patient. Initially horrified by the drawing, Claire had looked away, only to be drawn back to the wide-eyed, unblinking focus that had been created in that patient. For surely it was impossible to be held so ensnared as to be incapable of so much as moving one’s lashes.
But with Caleb’s eyes threatening to cut across her very soul, she understood the power of that connection and the intensity so great as to blot out even the sting of winter’s most merciless cold.
He raised a gloved hand and palmed her cheek. Despite the damp leather, his touch managed to be a soft caress against her cold cheek. “I had fun.”
Claire propped her chin on his chest. “Now or these past days?”
“All of ’em,” he said, so readily that honesty could be the only driver of that response.
“Me, too,” she murmured.
Alas, inevitably, all good moments came to an end. She knew that better than anyone.
When had she frolicked so?
These past years, she’d been so consumed by shame and remorse and pity.
He’d been right.
It was time to let go of the guilt over crimes that weren’t hers, that belonged to her parents. She could resent them for the evil they’d done. She could even hold on to the fury and outrage on behalf of the man who’d had so much taken from him. Claire could dedicate her life to helping men and women and children who were victims of injustice. But she needn’t continue to own decisions that she’d had no control over.
The realization left her light inside in a way that she’d never again thought to be.
And it was because of Caleb. He’d opened her eyes to all those realizations.
In one fluid motion, Caleb managed to slip his hands around her waist and get her back on her feet. He leaped up, unfurling to his full, towering frame.
“Where were you headed?” he murmured, rubbing his hands together in the first real sign that the cold affected him.
Claire burrowed deeper into her cloak. “I w-was looking for a frozen pond,” she confessed. “I found skates.”
“Too cold to stay out here, wet as you are now.”
“P-perhaps.” The increased chattering of her teeth served only to illustrate his point.
“Come on,” he said gruffly and rushed off, stopping periodically to collect the items they’d lost in their battle.
Claire hesitated a moment, looking out at the sun beginning to peek through the blanket of clouds overhead. The storm had ended. The roads would soon be passable.
There would be no sketching the winterscape. There would be no skating. There would be no more snowball fights.
And there would be no him.
Caleb.
Besieged by the urge to cry, she blinked the tears back, fighting desperately to conceal them.
Caleb rejoined her. “Here.”
She immediately seized her bonnet from his fingers and slammed the velvet-lined article atop her head. Then, for good measure, she brought her hood up over her head. All the while, her fingers shook.
Wordlessly, she and Caleb set out for the manor, and as they did, she glanced all around, letting her artist’s gaze take in all the details so that she could one day capture the beauty of this place. So that she could hang on to those details long after she’d left.
For soon, this moment—nay, these moments of found joy—would be nothing more than memories.
Except…
As they continued down the same path they’d followed, Claire frowned.
Why did this have to be it? a voice whispered, tempted, challenged. Perhaps she didn’t have to leave after all.
They reached the end of the walkway, and Caleb motioned for her to go on ahead.
But Claire stopped, her foot hovering over the imprint she’d left on this very step moments ago. Why had she not thought of it? Because of the sudden, unexpected development in finding her intended was not the intended she’d thought to find waiting for her. That initial shock, however, had faded, and now? Why, now it made so much sense.