of the six-foot skis forcing them to keep a respectable distance.
For now.
Her poles were in her other hand, and she used them to brush stray branches aside as they climbed through the woods.
Alexander’s home was as close to the castle as possible without being inside its ramparts, but the thick snow and steep incline had them both breathing heavily by the time they burst through the trees up to the clear mountain peak.
“See?” she huffed as she rested her skis on the snow. “Going down will be positively relaxing.”
Alexander sent her a dark look rather than dignify her comment with a response.
She led him around the ramparts, away from the woods, to the spot she’d scouted the day before.
“Step one,” she announced. “Arrange your skis just so.”
His attention was riveted on her, and he copied her movements minutely.
“Step two,” she said. “Climb on.”
He stared down at his skis doubtfully.
She sank to her knees and lightly tapped the back of his muscular calf. “Come on, I’ll strap you in.”
“You’re kneeling on snow,” he said. “Aren’t your legs freezing?”
“They would be,” she agreed, “if I weren’t wearing buckskin trousers beneath my gown and petticoats.”
“Of course you are,” he muttered.
But he lifted each of his boots with obvious trepidation and placed his feet atop the skis.
She made quick work of the leather straps, ensuring the fit was secure and snug before adjusting his grip on his poles.
They spent the next half an hour going over how to steer, how to stop, and how to fall safely if necessary.
“Where did you learn this again?” he asked.
“Norway,” she reminded him. “We have relatives who live there. My cousin Olaf is a captain in the Cadastre Corps. Did you know that the Scandinavian military has trained with skis for over one hundred years?”
“I did not,” the duke said faintly.
“Of course, Scandinavian farmers and hunters had already been using skis for centuries,” she explained. “For the Corps, it was all very practical. Military drills over rough terrain, cross-country journeys on skis, target practice whilst on skis, and so on. Until Olaf decided to do something impractical.”
“A cousin of yours did something impractical?” Alexander murmured. “I am agog with shock.”
She grinned at him. “He launched himself ten feet into the air, flying over the dumbfounded gazes of his fellow soldiers. He was instantly infamous, and only became more talented and daring after that. He’s the one who taught me everything I know.”
“Wonderful,” said the duke. “I feel so much safer. Didn’t you break your leg? Twice?”
She wiggled her eyebrows. “And I won a two-hundred-pound wager.”
“Two... hundred...”
She adjusted her poles. “Ready?”
“I am not ready. I will never be ready.” He took a deep breath. “But here we go.”
He turned away from her and braced his poles.
She grabbed his arm and hauled him back to her side.
“Not that direction. The village is down there. I aimed our skis over here for a reason.” She gestured down with her gloved hand. “This section runs parallel to the sledding path. There are no obstructions, and people already know to keep a safe distance at the bottom.”
He looked shaken. “I almost skated into the village?”
“You probably would have slid face-first into a haystack and had straw falling out of your hair for days.”
“What if I veer too far the other direction?”
“Just point your skis straight down. You won’t have to steer. Honestly, this section is so wide, you can’t possibly run into anything. Except me, I suppose. But I skate well enough on skis to steer clear of danger.”
“Except for two broken legs.”
“Those were my first two attempts!”
“Your first two attempts to ski involved jumping from one cliff to another?” he said in disbelief. “No. Don’t tell me. I have just learned an important lesson about never again volunteering to ‘do anything’ with Miss Cynthia Louise Finch.”
“You’ll adore it,” she promised him. “It feels like flying. It’s my favorite thing, and I’ve never had anyone in England to share it with.” She gave him a shy smile. “I’m glad it’s with you.”
“Oh, very good,” he said. “Now my brain is full of kissing you, instead of imagining all of the ghastly ways this plan could go horribly awry.”
She grinned at him. “I’ll let you kiss me at the bottom.”
Before he could reply, she pushed with her poles and sailed down the side of the mountain.
It was glorious.
The sun dazzled her eyes and the wind whipped tendrils of hair from her chignon. Her skis were fast and smooth. Cynthia had waxed them that morning,