My Last Duchess (The Wildes of Lindow Castle #0.5) - Eloisa James Page 0,16

thickened, each breath turning to a thousand flakes.

Bisquet had positioned the mounting block before the carriage door, precisely as if the vehicle wasn’t listing to one side. Ophelia took Hugo’s hand and stepped out of the carriage as gracefully as a cat hopping from a chair. She looked at the mound of snow surrounding the mounting block and laughed again.

“My slippers aren’t suited for this weather.” She held out a foot, and Hugo looked down at an impossibly small foot clad in cream silk with fashionable flaps crossed in front, and the whole embroidered with sprigs of flowers.

“I won’t let you touch the ground,” he promised.

They stood in a pool of light lit by the torch Bisquet had left behind, its light protected from the snow by a neat little tin hat. Hugo hooked the lantern that usually hung inside next to the torch. He hadn’t let go of her hand. They both wore gloves, but he still loved curling his fingers around hers.

God, I’ve fallen so deep, he thought suddenly, with a moment of blinding clarity. Then he shook it off because his lady was standing in falling snow.

Laughing. She was looking about with obvious joy, and laughing.

His skin came alive with primal, raw hunger, as well as bewildered gratitude. The sensible man he’d been before he walked into the ballroom was gone.

This new Hugo pulled his lady into his arms so suddenly that her eyes flew to his in surprise. There were snowflakes caught on her eyelashes, melting on her lips. He covered her laughing mouth with his, dazzled by the flash of cold followed by heat. Her mouth was sweet and wet, and threw him instantly into a flush of sensual hunger such as he’d had—

He pushed that thought away.

No comparisons. Ever.

The world had given him so many blessings, and he had thought never to have one of this magnitude again.

She tasted like snow. Their tongues met and twisted around each other, danced an ancient measure. His heart thudded in his chest, making his breath shudder and his hands tighten around her.

Ophelia had kissed him in the carriage. But now, with the snow swirling over their heads, she was fire and ice at once. She submitted to him and owned him all at once. When she drew back, moments later, he felt remade.

As different from his usual self as the white trees, the white carriage path, the white mound that was her little carriage. The one he would beg her to give up because its perch was too fragile to carry such precious cargo.

Tomorrow, he told himself.

She was smiling up at him, still arched against him, allowing her hand to rest in the hollow of his back.

“I’m happy,” he said, hearing wonder in his voice with a touch of embarrassment. “Gentlemen aren’t supposed to experience an emotion so juvenile.”

“Happy Hugo?” she asked, laughing.

He snorted. “My given name is reason enough for never admitting to such a foolish emotion.” He let her go and turned to the horse. Bisquet had cut the lead to use as reins and thrown a blanket over the animal. A layer of snow already covered the blanket.

The coachman had also left a brass lantern hooked to the bridle. Hugo checked, but it was no more than pleasantly warm against the horse’s shoulder. The gelding snorted and twitched its ears.

“I’m going to pull off that blanket and put you straight up on his back before snow settles.”

At her nod, he whipped off the blanket and lifted her up, taking care to make sure that she was well-seated, her cloak tucked around her skirts. “Sidesaddle is absurd,” he muttered. “Not that we have a saddle.”

“I have too many skirts to sit any other way,” she pointed out. “Are you going to snuff the torch and lantern?”

“No, I’ll leave them burning, in case someone tools along in the snow and doesn’t see the downed vehicle until it’s too late.”

Keeping the reins in his hand, he stepped on the mounting block and vaulted onto the horse behind her, his right arm going around Ophelia to steady her. She put a hand on his chest and smiled up at him, and he changed his mind about sidesaddle.

If she had been seated astride before him, he couldn’t have seen her face.

“We merely need to make our way through Hyde Park,” he told her.

“This is so improper,” Ophelia said a moment later, as they rode out of the circle of torchlight, leaving the carriage behind them. Their lantern cast a