The Devil Who Tamed Her by Johanna Lindsey

not!” He laughed and got to his feet. “But you were pretty good at that. You must have had a lot of practice as a child.”
    She went very still. “No, there was never anyone willing to play with me in the snow.”
    The amusement left him as well. “I hope you’re lying, Phelia.”
    “Yes, of course,” she agreed just to get him off the subject.
    “You weren’t, were you?”
    “I warned you not to go there, so don’t!”
    She walked off. The interlude had ended on a bad note after all.

Chapter Fourteen
    H ER LAUGHTER HAD CARRIED ON the wind to him. Raphael had a feeling he’d never forget the sound of it, or that particular experience with Ophelia today.
    Throwing that first snowball at her had been a complete impulse on his part. He’d been finishing his breakfast when he saw her taking a walk and decided to go out and join her. What followed certainly hadn’t been premeditated.
    He’d barely recognized her today. Such an amazing difference between the woman who’d thrown snowballs back at him, and the woman that everyone hated. It hadn’t been contrived. He was absolutely sure her behavior had been nothing but spontaneous. She wasn’t trying to fool him into thinking that he’d miraculously “changed” her. She’d merely shown him yet another side to her that no one else ever saw—a playful side that had been delightful.
    While he didn’t regret his first impulse, he would probably regret the second one. Kissing her had been foolish. It had given her the wrong impression, while it had been no more than a natural inclination on his part. Her lips had been close, her laughter ringing in the air, and she was so damn beautiful. There was simply no way he could have resisted. But wanting to see if she tasted sour? What a whopper! He could at least have come up with a better excuse than that and would have if he hadn’t been so bemused by that kiss.
    He found her alone in the parlor, standing in front of the window that looked out on the side yard. Quite a mess they’d made out there during their snow fight. Their tracks were everywhere, and the deep indent where they’d slid across the snow when he tackled her—was she thinking about the fun they’d had, or about that kiss they’d shared? Actually, it was a bit conceited of him to imagine she was thinking of him now.
    What did she usually think about when she was alone? Bloody hell, he was getting much too curious about her and things that had nothing to do with the reason he’d brought her there.
    “Are you ready for those coals again?” he said lightly by her side.
    She wasn’t startled by his presence; she must have heard him approach. And she didn’t need to ask what he was talking about. “Being raked over coals” had been her own remark.
    But he did hear the sigh and her tone was rather forlorn as she said, “By all means.”
    Guilt! It rose up and nearly choked him as he watched her walk toward the sofa with drooped shoulders. What the devil? How could he possibly feel guilty for trying to help her? She was going to benefit from his efforts, not him—well, he’d win his bet with Duncan, but that was so minor in the scheme of things now, when he’d more recently come to realize that he simply wanted to help her. Something had made her the way she was and perhaps he ought to add finding out what it was to the agenda.
    He joined her on the same sofa, noting that she moved away from him as he sat down. “I don’t bite, you know,” he said with a degree of annoyance.
    “Actually, I believe you do.”
    “Was that in reference to kissing you, or raking you over hot coals?”
    “Both.” She poured herself a cup of tea from the tray on the table. A basket of sweets was there as well, but she didn’t even glance at it.
    “I’ll take a cup of that.”
    “Pour your own,” she retorted.
    Much better. A forlorn Ophelia was as bad as seeing her in tears. Quite out of his league.
    He did pour his own tea, and just to make sure she