Amelia turned slowly toward him, lifting eyes as dark and soft as crushed velvet to him. “Is it working?”
The question, asked with utter innocence, caught Blair so off-guard that a puff of stunned laughter burst past his lips. The breath made a frosty cloud before him.
“I cannot be certain yet,” he said before thinking.
Her dark brows winged, but then a pleased smile tugged at the corners of her petal-pink lips.
“Then we had better keep trying, shouldn’t we? Just for clarity’s sake?”
Try as he might, he didn’t quite manage to suppress the heat that swelled within him at her gently teasing response. It would certainly be no trial to endure more of her “efforts” to remind him of the joys and pleasures of this magical season in the Highlands.
“Aye, that sounds—”
Before he could finish, something heavy hit him like a fist between his shoulder blades. Snow dust exploded around them as the projectile—a snowball, Blair realized—disintegrated on impact.
Blair grunted and Amelia squeaked in surprise. Glowering over his shoulder, he caught sight of Livie’s cloak as she disappeared behind a wide tree trunk.
“I believe we are under attack, Miss Harlow,” Blair said loudly.
“Nay,” came the girl’s voice from behind the tree. “She is no’ Miss Harlow, she is Princess Anastasia of the Kingdom of Anglovia.”
Blair pivoted slowly on his heels, canting an eyebrow at Amelia. Her eyes danced with so much merriment that he couldn’t resist playing along.
“Och, of course. Forgive me, yer Highness,” he said, executing an elegant bow.
Another snowball whizzed past Blair’s head.
“Do not fear, Princess,” Blair shouted, lurching in front of her. “I will protect ye from this siege.”
“Nay,” Livie said from the other side of the trunk, more exasperated now. “Ye are no’ Princess Anastasia’s gallant knight. Ye are the dragon who has kept her prisoner all these years. I willnae rest until I have slayed ye, foul beast!”
Blair exchanged a blank-faced look with Amelia, who only shrugged.
“It seems Livie and I are united in our quest to bring you down, Lord Dragon,” she said, barely checked mirth playing across her delicate features. Blair did not miss the pointed note in her voice, however—aye, they meant to best him in more ways than one.
He opened his mouth on a rejoinder, but before he could speak, Amelia darted around him and scrambled toward the trees where Livie had taken cover.
“I will not yield without a fight,” Blair declared, bending to gather snow for a massive snowball. Even as he packed the snow between his hands, Livie pelted him in the chest. He grunted and rocked back on his heels as if shot with an arrow, but he quickly recovered and lobbed his own projectile.
It exploded against the trunk where Livie hid. Amelia shrieked and ducked for cover nearby. Once she recovered and joined the battle, Blair had to fend off attacks from two directions. He slogged forward, an arm lifted overhead against the hail of snowballs.
“The Dragon King will cut out my heart if I allow the Princess to escape,” Blair growled, much to Livie’s delight.
“Come, Princess, I’ll save ye!” the girl cried.
With Livie providing a steady barrage of snowballs, Amelia attempted to dart closer. But as she clambered through the deep snow between the trees, her legs tangled in her skirts and cloak.
She jerked, then teetered off-balance, her arms windmilling for purchase in the thin air.
Without thinking, Blair lurched forward. As Amelia canted sideways, he dove the rest of the distance separating them. He wrapped her in his arms and turned his shoulder downward to take the brunt of the impact.
He needn’t have. The thick snow was so downy-soft that it was like sinking into a pillow. Still, he would never regret his foolish gallantry, for now she lay in his arms, nestled safe and secure against his chest. The slight weight of her fit perfectly on top of him.
Amelia gasped, then burst out laughing. Somehow, the chime of her happiness made the entire scene even more perfect. Blair’s hands tightened on her cloak, silently wishing this moment would never end.
Yet all too soon, it did. Livie peered down at them, her eyes wide.
“Are ye hurt?”
“No, not at all,” Amelia replied, sitting up.
Blair hastily shot to his feet and extended his hand to her, helping her rise. They both dusted the fine snow from their clothes, carefully avoiding eye contact.
“It seems the dragon has won this day,” Livie said on a sigh.
“Yes, but he acted most nobly,” Amelia said gently. “Perhaps he isn’t the villain we assumed.”
Livie pursed her lips, but in a show of uncharacteristic restraint, she refrained from commenting on that.
“Let us return to Glenrose,” Blair said, sounding rather too brusque even to his own ears.
As they returned to the sledge and made their way back to the manor, Amelia’s words rang through his mind like a struck bell.
Nay, he wasn’t noble. Nor was this some make-believe reverie where the hero always won, the villain was vanquished, and they all lived happily ever after.
Now he knew Amelia and Livie’s aim in all this cheer and merry-making. But he couldn’t succumb to it.
No matter how right it felt.
Chapter Thirteen
Amelia stared into the undulating flames that filled the enormous hearth, a cup of warm, spiced wine nestled between her palms. The drawing room was dim except for the orange glow from the fire. Beside her, Blair sat in one of the high-backed, well-worn chairs, slowly swirling a glass of deep amber whisky.
She was full, she was warm, and a drowsy quiet hung over the manor. It was a perfectly idyllic, cozy scene.
And yet, her stomach was knotted like a fisherman’s net, her throat was tight, and her breath stuck
