Mistletoe & Michaelmas by Rose Gordon Page A

she froze. He looked like a bear—and that was no exaggeration. Either he was a brute of a man, of a gargantuan height and broad build or he was as skinny as a riding crop and was wearing four fur coats. She highly doubted that though. He wore a thick beaver felt hat and had a scarf wrapped around his neck and lower face, revealing only a set of sapphire eyes that were the same shade as the brook behind Holbrook Hall where she grew up, they shimmered the same way, too. Daphne shivered.
    “Decidedly not.”
    Jane arched a dark brow. “Decidedly?”
    “Yes,” Daphne confirmed. “That man looks as if he could eat me!”
    Jane’s laugher filled the carriage. Gareth allowed a small smile and a cough and then another smile and then shook his head. Daphne had never seen him act so odd.
    Before she could ponder what was wrong with him, the coachman wrenched open the door, Jane’s invalid chair already in place at the bottom of the steps. Daphne bit her lip. Jane had had an accident when she was a young girl, rendering both of her legs useless—an unfortunate circumstance that Jane would not allow to become a hindrance for anything she wanted to do: even spending a few weeks of the winter in a cold, icy place such as this.
    Gareth slid one arm under Jane’s legs and the other around her shoulders, then lifted her up and carried her down the three steps of the traveling coach to the safety of her chair, then turned around and reached a hand up for Daphne.
    “Thank you,” she murmured, taking her brother-in-law’s hand. She climbed down and fell in stride beside Gareth as he pushed Jane’s chair toward the front of the house.
    This was love.
    Not an auction. Not a perusal of the Marriage Mart. Not a coming together because if they married it’d be beneficial for their families or their finances. Love. Pure, plain and simple.
    Nearing the steps, the trio came to a halt as Dawson, the butler, called for the four footmen standing in the corner to come lower the boards they each held over the right side of the steps that led to the front of the house. Daphne glanced down to Jane who’d always acted a little uncomfortable when anyone did anything to accommodate her. Behind Jane, Gareth stood quiet, his chin inclined as if nothing was out of the ordinary. And it wasn’t—right down to the way he placed his hands on Jane’s shoulders, in a gesture Daphne had seen many times when Jane was uncomfortable and Gareth was trying to quietly reassure that everything would be all right. Daphne’s heart constricted. Again, just one more gesture of love.
    Or perhaps what made her heart constrict was the heavy hand she suddenly felt on her own shoulder.
    “Pardon me,” she said, jerking in surprise.
    “No need to beg my pardon,” a deep, masculine voice said behind Daphne, making her once constricted heart start pounding out of control. 
    Daphne whirled around to get a look at the forward man and froze. It was the man with the sparkling blue eyes and enough coats on to be confused for a bear. But now that he was closer to her, she could get a better look at his face—or at least what was revealed of it. His skin was pale, but clear and unblemished save for the handful of lines around his eyes. His eyes, which appeared dark at first, had even darker lines and golden flecks in his iris. How unusual...and yet, mesmerizing. She could hardly tear her eyes away and only did so when the lines around his deepened and he said, “Don’t get lost in them yet, we still have to walk up the icy steps.”
    Daphne swallowed audibly and flushed with embarrassment of being caught staring at the same time, but that only embarrassed her more.
    “Come now, I’ll escort you so you don’t fall.” His voice was calm and gentle, just as was the hand he placed on her arm just above the elbow.
    From her peripheral vision she caught a glimpse of a grinning Gareth and the wretched man had the audacity to wink at her once again.
    “Th-thank you for