Winter's Whispers (The Wicked Winters #10) - Scarlett Scott Page 0,30

her feel.

Aflame.

She banished the thought.

“Why do not they marry well themselves?” he suggested. “Your sisters. Why should you be the sacrifice so they may live happy lives?”

Felicity stared at him, at a loss.

“No quick answer for that one, have you?”

“It is my duty,” she snapped, readying herself to sweep past him.

“Ah.” He nodded, drawing out the lone syllable in excruciating—and nettling—fashion. “Duty.”

She bristled. “And what is wrong with duty, Mr. Winter? I should not imagine you can find shame in it.”

“Nay. But I can find shame in a beautiful, passionate lady such as yourself throwing herself on the sword for the sake of her sisters. Let them make matches as they will. Why suffer to make their lives better if it only makes yours worse?”

He thought she was beautiful?

She did her utmost to strike the warmth flooding her away. To tamp it down. To ignore it. But Blade Winter was a force. A force she could neither deny nor resist. And to her dismay, he was making sense.

When he questioned her, she had to wonder herself why all the responsibility fell upon her shoulders.

“I am the eldest of my siblings,” she countered.

Yes, there was that. As the oldest daughter, there were expectations in place for her, regardless of her father’s mounting gambling debts.

“And?” Mr. Winter asked, shrugging his shoulders. “Dom is the eldest of my siblings, but I never asked him to marry his wife, Lady Adele. Indeed, I argued against it. Thought it would make him miserable. As it happens, I was wrong. I can admit my faults. However, I do not think I am wrong about this. You deserve to find your own happiness. To the devil with anyone else.”

If only she could feel the same.

But she could not. She did not have the luxury.

“I love Esme and Cassandra. I want what is best for them, and if I must sacrifice my future for them to gain theirs, then I shall.”

“And who will thank you for it?” he asked grimly.

Who indeed?

Still, it did not matter. Every moment she lingered was one of heightened danger.

She shook her head. “I do not require thanks. The interruption was most fortuitous, and I dare not remain here alone with you a minute longer.”

Stricken, she turned away from him and fled.

Blade Winter did not follow, and as she plunged back into the wintry chill, she told herself it was for the best.

“You and your sisters are up to something.”

Pru cast a glance in the direction of her handsome husband as they walked through the maze in the gardens of Abingdon Hall. Lord Ashley Rawdon cut a debonair figure, and though they had been married for nearly a year, she still looked at him—her beautiful, golden god—and could not believe he was hers.

“Why would you say such a thing?” she asked, trying not to smile.

“You do not think gentlemen notice when their wives are plotting?” he teased, his voice lighthearted.

“Hmm.” She clutched his arm, enjoying the brightness of the sun, reflecting off the snow, the crisp cold of the day. “Mary and Jane are walking now. Can you believe it?”

Their twin daughters had begun their young lives in a foundling hospital, but Pru and Ash had taken them in shortly after they married. The girls were thriving, and Ash was a wonderful father.

“They are determined and brave, much like their mama,” Ash told her tenderly.

“Imagine what it shall be like when Edmond is walking too,” she said, smiling.

“All three of them.” Ash laughed, the sound low and deep, sending a trill down her spine. “I cannot wait to see it. But do cease your attempts to distract me from my course. You are plotting something, are you not?”

“Plotting is a strong word,” she hedged. “I prefer matchmaking.”

“Between Blade and Lady Felicity?”

“What if we are?”

Ash turned to her and caught her around the waist, pulling her against his lean frame. “You are utter lunatics, every last one of you.”

“I am insulted on behalf of my sisters.” She twined her arms around his neck, tipping her head back for his kiss.

“How can I soothe your indignation, my love?” He kissed her cheek, then one corner of her lips.

“I have a few ideas,” she said, breathless already.

He chuckled again. “I have no doubt you do, sweet.”

“You do not think Blade and Lady Felicity would make an excellent match?” she asked as he kissed her throat.

“He is a hardened fellow. Does not seem the sort to marry for love.” Ash sucked gently on her tender flesh.

“Mmm,” she said.