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Maggie had fallen into a troubled doze in front of the fire when the door to the kitchens slammed open, letting a blast of freezing air inside.

Groggy and stiff with sitting still so long, she stumbled to her feet. Her sudden movement dislodged Smith, who jumped down from her lap and stalked off with her tail waving in displeasure.

“Joss…” she said, wondering if she was dreaming.

She hadn’t really been asleep. Or at least she’d thought she wasn’t.

Forbidden joy overwhelmed her. Then she looked at him more closely, and concern overcame every response but the need to help. “You look terrible.”

He was utterly exhausted, with his eyes sunk back in his white face. Those deep lines between nose and mouth were like chasms.

Joss took a dragging step across the threshold, dropped his hat and saddlebags to the floor, and turned to fumble with the heavy old door. She rushed forward and slid her shoulder under his arm. He was freezing, shivering so violently that she had trouble holding onto him.

“I couldn’t get through the pass.” His voice was hoarse.

“Oh, my dear,” she said, before she could think to censor herself.

He wasn’t getting far with closing the door. She gave the heavy door a kick to shut it and helped him across the short distance to the hearth. Thank goodness the roaring fire kept the kitchens so warm.

Frantic, she tugged off his wet outdoor clothes and threw them to the floor. Her anxiety grew as he stood passively under her attentions. Joss Hale was many things, but passive wasn’t one of them.

“God knows I tried,” he said through chattering teeth. As the heat worked on him, he began to steam gently.

“I know you did,” she said softly, pushing him onto the settle and going on her knees to tug off his icy boots.

And she did know. She suspected he’d tried far past the point where most men would have given up and turned back.

He was staring at her the way he’d stared at her when he first arrived. “You’ve been crying.”

She must look a complete fright, but when he reached out and touched her cheek, she almost didn’t mind. “Yes.”

“I’m sorry, Maggie.”

Sorry he’d left her and made her cry? Or sorry he came back? He looked too tired to meet emotional demands, although tomorrow they’d have to talk about what happened now. “How’s Emilia?”

“I soon realized she wasn’t likely to make it. If she was in a better state, I’d have done my best to go on.”

Maggie’s lips turned down in disapproval as she stood up. “Then you’d be a fool. This…feeling between us isn’t worth dying for.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No,” she snapped. She’d nearly lost him. To hide the queasy terror that thought aroused, she headed into the pantry to fetch some brandy. “Here. It will help.”

As he accepted the bottle, he turned his face up toward her. Already some of the life came back into his features, but the hand that pulled out the cork was shaking. While he drank from the bottle, she went into the linen store.

When she emerged, carrying towels and blankets, he was slumped in the chair. The sag of his body expressed deathly weariness, and his long legs stretched toward the fire.

“Do you want me to dry your hair?” She might still sound angry, but the rusty taste of fear was sharp in her mouth. And guilt. How could she have let him go? She knew the dangers.

He raised his head to observe her brandishing a towel like a weapon. “No, thank you. I can manage.”

The brandy and the fire had started to work their magic. That deep rumble of a voice almost sounded like usual. He reached out for the towel and began to wipe his neck and shoulders.

She didn’t turn her eyes away when he stood to remove his coat. “Do you want to take off your breeches, too?”

“Why, Miss Carr, you make me blush,” he said with an attempt at his usual humor.

“Don’t make a joke of this, Joss.” She whirled on him, wanting to fling herself into his arms and hold him forever. Wanting to punch him hard for putting himself in danger for something as insubstantial as honor. “You could have died.”

“I’m sorry.” With clumsy movements, he tugged off his shirt and let it fall to the floor. All urge to clout him evaporated, as did every drop of moisture in her mouth.

In the firelight, his chest was magnificent. Golden and powerful. Crisp black curls outlined his pectoral muscles and trailed down his flat belly to disappear beneath his leather breeches.

She bit her lip and stared at him wide-eyed. He limped close enough for her to smell the outdoors on his skin, and beneath that, the unforgettable essence of Joss himself.

“Don’t be angry, sweetheart.” His hand curled behind her neck, and he cupped the back of her head. “I’m safe.”

She wasn’t, and she knew it. But when he called her sweetheart, nothing could stop her sliding her arms around him. His skin was chilled, and she cuddled closer to share her warmth.

The intimacy of the embrace was extraordinary. She felt each breath he took and the subtle shift of muscles across his back, as he moved his hands up and down her spine in wordless comfort.

“You’re a wild and reckless fool,” she muttered into his chest.

He twined his arms around her. “I’m sorry I frightened you,” he whispered, leaning his chin on her head. “I won’t do it again.”

“You’d better not,” she said indistinctly, pressing her nose into his skin. As he warmed up, the glorious scent of Joss overpowered the scent of snow and wind.

“I promise.”

The tenderness in that bass voice banished the last of her anger. Anger that was purely a reaction to overwhelming dread. If he’d died out there…

If ever she’d doubted how deeply her feelings for Joss Hale went, her quaking, unreasoning panic at the thought of losing him told her that she was in real trouble. When he’d left her, her world had turned cold and unwelcoming. But the idea of a world without him in it somewhere, even if far away, had been more than she could endure.

Inexplicable, illogical, unlikely, but she’d fallen desperately in love, and she had a grim premonition it was a lifelong affliction.

Still, she hadn’t completely lost all connection with the mundane world. She stirred in Joss’s arms and prepared to step away.

Joss tightened his hold to keep her close. “Where in blazes do you think you’re going?”

“To put Emilia in the stables.”

He didn’t release her. “She’s safely in her stall. I fed and watered her, and put a poultice on her leg before I came inside.”

Maggie couldn’t believe what she heard. “You looked after her when you were so close to collapsing?”

“My father taught me—care for yourself only after you’ve cared for your horse.”

Her heart took a dizzying swoop, and she closed her eyes against a hot rush of tears. Curse him. What chance did she have against him?

She knew what state he was in, yet he’d seen his mount settled before he sought shelter and warmth for himself. “You’re a good man, Josiah Hale.”

He gave a grunt of self-derisive laughter. “No, by God, I’m not.”

She knew he meant the words as a warning, but in her ears, they were a promise of sensual expertise. Maggie met those deep-set eyes, and a quiver of need set up low in her stomach, until her whole body was shaking. Tonight, tomorrow, perhaps the day after, but soon, she’d give herself to this man. And words like sin and virtue, and right and wrong would have no power to stop her.

Because her fate opened up before her, for good or ill, she was content to postpone the difficult decisions that lay ahead. “What about your breeches?”

He was wise enough not to tease her this time. “The leather keeps the water out.”

His arms tightened, before abruptly he staggered away. She wasn’t feeling too solid either. Standing on her own two feet had her struggling to lock rubbery knees. The rush of blood to her head left her giddy and disconcerted.

Because touching his naked skin hadn’t been entirely about comfort and shared warmth. How could it be? Maggie wanted this man, and she knew he wanted her. As the effects of his ordeal wore off, she’d noticed how he responded to her nearness.

She touched him because she wanted to. She touched him for desire. For pleasure.

For…love.

But her first priority now was to look after him. While it was a pity to cover up that superb torso, she passed him a blanket. “I should never have sent you away.”

“You didn’t send me away. I went.” The straight look he shot her threatened to upset her wanton plans. When he wrapped the blanket around his shoulders, he looked like a dashing Roman. “We need to talk.”

“Not now.” Avoiding that searching green gaze, she hooked up the wet shirt he’d discarded and bundled it near the fire. If she washed it after supper and hung it before the hearth, it would dry overnight. “Warm up. Eat. Rest. We’ll talk later.”

And perhaps they wouldn’t.

Another shiver rippled through her. This time alive with anticipation.

“Maggie—”

“Sit near the fire while I heat up some of yesterday’s soup.” She gestured to the stove. “You’ll be hungry.”

She was hungry, too. Odd to think that not long ago, she’d felt like she never wanted to eat again. What a range of emotions the day had brought. Joy. Passion. Guilt. Sorrow. Despair. Fear.

To her surprise, he obeyed her without an argument. Sign enough that he was still in a bad way. She beat back her fear and concentrated on her cooking. When she glanced across at him slouched on the settle, she was glad to see his eyes closed. Sleep was what he needed after what he’d been through.

When the meal was ready, she crossed to shake his shoulder. “Joss, wake up.”

The smile he gave her was so sweet, she almost took him in her arms. But right now, he needed food more than he needed her embrace. “Sorry. I dozed off.”

“Have something to eat, then go to bed.” When she took his hand, it was no longer icy cold. She blinked away hot tears of relief.

Maggie helped him across to the table she’d set, watching his halting progress with a frown. He was still moving with arthritic stiffness. With a groan, he collapsed into the chair.

Knowing he wasn’t yet up to much conversation, she didn’t try to talk to him as they started eating. Only once he’d made short work of his soup and she saw some color return to his face, did she speak. “Tell me what happened,” she said, putting down her spoon. 

“You were right. I left my departure too late.” He hitched up his blanket and leaned back in his chair, half-full wineglass in one hand. “It started snowing as soon as I got to the end of the drive.”

“You should have turned back at that point.”

He still sounded mortally tired. “You know why I didn’t.”

Maggie did. She cut him a huge wedge of the beef pie she’d warmed in the oven and slid it onto his plate. She’d looked after his meals since he’d arrived. Tonight why did this basic act of hospitality seem particularly…wifely? “Had Emilia started limping by then?”

“No. And I only had a few miles to go.”

“It must have been so frightening. I’ve been caught in a snowstorm a couple of times. I completely lost my sense of direction.”

“I could still make out the shape of the hills. And the prevailing wind has been from the north since I arrived. I wasn’t likely to get lost.”

She was overjoyed to hear him sounding much more like himself. “You noticed that?”

He shrugged and began to eat once more. “An architect notes a house’s cold and warm spots. Whoever built Thorncroft knew what they were doing. A small difference in the windows and the doors, and the place would be freezing.”

“It’s usually a warm house,” she said, serving herself a smaller piece of pie. “Especially with all the fires lit.”

Yet how cold and forbidding it had felt after Joss left. Now, it was the Garden of Eden. Such a difference love could make.

 “We got to the pass, but it was blocked. I tried to go over the hills and around, but that proved impossible, too.”

Maggie could imagine how he’d struggled on. When he left her, she’d seen his determination. And regret. She began to eat her pie. “I’m glad you had the good sense to come back.”

He sent her a hard look. “Are you?”

Joss had demolished his pie, too, so she served him the rest. “I don’t want you lying dead and frozen on a hillside.”

“That’s nice to know,” he said, with a hint of his familiar dryness. He looked much better already. Remarkable, really, how quickly he recovered. It gave her hope that he mightn’t suffer any long-term effects from his trials.

She matched his tone. “Once the spring thaws start, the shepherds get upset if they find travelers who didn’t make it over winter.”

Her heart cramped with love when humor lightened Joss’s features. “By all means, let’s keep the shepherds happy.”

Joss took Maggie’s advice and retired to his room early. He’d done his best to hide quite how battered he felt after fighting the elements, but his body ached like the devil after that long tramp hauling a lame horse. He’d been in a damned bad way when he’d staggered back to Thorncroft Hall. He’d thought winters in Sussex could be grim. He’d had no idea how bitter cold weather could be until he struck these wild northern uplands.

Now he lay in his big, warm bed, and he couldn’t entirely blame his restlessness on the aftereffects of his ordeal. Unsatisfied desire proved more agonizing by far than mere aches and pains.

 Since he’d arrived, he’d spent hours lying awake in his room, hungering for Maggie. But tonight the yearning was sharper, more focused. Now he knew how her kisses tasted, and how perfectly she fitted in his arms, and the sounds she made when she enjoyed a man’s attentions.

Tonight he knew she wanted him, too.

Nothing had changed since he’d headed out on his futile quest to reach Little Flitwick. It was still wrong to seduce Maggie. Of course it was. Otherwise he wouldn’t have embarked on a journey that brought him to the brink of disaster.

But wrong or not, dear God, how he longed to have her here beside him. How he burned to see her all warm and rosy and responsive, the way she’d been after his kisses beside the pond.

The girl he’d first met had had sad eyes. But she hadn’t been sad when they’d skated, and when they’d kissed, and tonight when she’d welcomed him back. She’d been incandescent with joy.

And he’d recognized then that their coming together was inevitable. From the first moment, she’d caught him in her spell. Was that only four days ago?

He felt like he’d lived through a lifetime since.

Joss closed his eyes and surrendered to exhaustion, dreaming of Maggie becoming his at last.

The sound of the door opening pierced Joss’s dreams of fighting through snow as sticky as melted wax to reach Maggie. Instantly alert, he opened his eyes. He felt no disorientation. He knew where he was. He knew who had come in, even before he rolled over to face the doorway.

Elation surged so powerfully, it was painful. His heart began to race, and his mouth went dry with anticipation. He must have been asleep a couple of hours. The fire burned low and painted the chamber dull gold.

“Maggie?”

The woman who was his delight and his torment hovered on the threshold. Her hand shook so badly that her candle sent shadows jumping against the walls. She wore the white flannel nightdress, familiar from his first night.

Joss knew better than to take her presence for granted. Her arrival mightn’t mean what he so desperately hoped it did. “Are you in trouble?”

“Yes…” Her voice was a frail thread.

He was out of bed before he recalled he was naked and that if she’d come to ask for help, a huge lummox wearing nothing but his skin was likely to scare her silly. “What’s wrong?”

Her eyes, dark and mysterious, widened as she stared at his body. The candlelight performed a slow waltz. Joss saw her delicate throat move as she swallowed.

“I’m sorry,” he said gruffly, fumbling to find his dressing gown. Until he remembered it was in his pack. He’d been so bloody tired and sore when he came upstairs, he’d toppled straight into bed.

Her attention fell to where his cock rose hard and insistent against his belly. Through the uncertain light, he saw a delicious wash of pink color her cheeks. The dangers of sharing this house with her had never been so stark as they were right now.

When she lifted her eyes, he couldn’t mistake the desire he saw in her face. She licked her lips as if she wanted to taste him, the way a hungry man wanted to dive into eating an extravagant meal. Even through his astonishment, his body reacted predictably.

“Don’t be sorry.” That whisper played havoc with his control. With difficulty, he resisted the urge to cover himself like a bashful schoolboy. Instead he turned away and walked across to where his saddlebags rested against the wall.

She’d get an eyeful of his bare arse, but damn it, what choice did he have? His hands weren’t much steadier than hers when he opened his bag and rooted out his dressing gown. He shrugged it on, worried that Maggie remained so deathly quiet.

Even though he could no longer see her, her image burned in his brain. Slender. Graceful body wreathed in white, as incendiary a sight as a blatantly naked courtesan. Her auburn plait curled across her breast, following the path that his hands itched to trace.

Battling for control, he turned as he tied the sash. She was staring at him as if she beheld the wonder of the ages. That did nothing to cool his arousal. The beat of blood in his head was so loud, he had trouble hearing her.

“I forget how…big you are. And then…”

Then he started prancing around with his tackle waving in the breeze. Maggie Carr was the one woman in creation who could make him blush. How his louche chums in London would cackle to see libertine Joss Hale turn as awkward as a boy with his first lass.

And all because that lass was so breathtakingly beautiful.

And fragile.

And strong.

All his tried and true strategies with a pretty girl seemed tired and outmoded. Because never before had his heart been involved in a seduction.

He wasn’t a fool. Nor was he in the habit of deceiving himself. From the first, Maggie had stirred something more profound than a young man’s natural yen to bed a comely wench.

But only now did he realize how close he came to loving her. Whatever happened tonight—whatever happened after tonight—this affair would change him forever.

“Then I see how huge you are.”

He knew she described his size as a whole, but all this talk about dimensions made his dick swell with excitement. Yet the possibility remained that he was getting all worked up about nothing. “You said you need my help.”

 She squared her shoulders as if facing some great task. “I do.”

His stomach dropped. Disappointment made his voice crack. Disappointment he had no right to feel, damn it. “Are you ill?”

To his surprise, Maggie took a faltering step into the room. Even as he counseled caution, his heart turned a somersault. She must realize that entering his territory was dangerous.

“No, I’m not ill.” Maggie shifted from one bare foot to the other. She had to be freezing. But unlike their first night, he didn’t trust himself to lay his hands on her.

“Then what is it?” He cursed the impatience in his voice, but having her so near in this silent house asked too much of a mere mortal. The stillness somehow worsened his torture. When he’d gone to bed, the wind had been howling like the hounds of hell, but it had since dropped. He felt like the world held its breath to see what happened next, and every word carried the weight of destiny.

Maggie bit her lip, and he closed his eyes against the sight of small white teeth sinking into cushiony pink flesh. He rapidly reached a point where if she didn’t leave, he wouldn’t be responsible for the consequences. He wanted her so badly, each breath hurt.

“I…I could have lost you today.” Her voice was low and husky. “You tried to make light of it, but you forget I live here, and I know the risks you took by going.”

“I know the risks if I stay here.” His voice rasped. “You’re a chaste woman.”

“Yes, I am.” She grimaced. “But what use is that chastity to me?”

This time, the silence crashed down as hard as an avalanche. Before he could stop himself, Joss stepped closer. He spoke through a tight throat. “You’re not thinking clearly. You’re upset because I got caught in the snow. In the morning, you’ll regret a rash decision.”

Why in Hades did he try to talk her out of yielding, when it was so bloody obvious that was what they both wanted? But for the first time in what he recognized as a selfish life, his pleasure wasn’t of paramount importance.

“I am thinking clearly.” A stubborn expression settled on her face, banished her nervousness. “Until you came, my life was flat and meaningless. Each day was exactly the same as the last. Once you leave, that’s what my life will go back to.”

The bleak picture she painted made his gut knot with pity. A pity he knew she’d despise. “Sweetheart—”

Her voice hardened as she ventured closer, until only a few feet separated them. “In the years to come, when the nights are cold and the bed is too big for one person, I want something glorious to remember. Don’t make me beg, Joss.”

For pity’s sake, what could he do, when she said that? He knew what was right, but he needed her so desperately. “Come here, Maggie.”

The tension drained from her expression, and she launched forward. The sudden movement did for the candle, and it flickered out as Joss’s arms closed hard around soft flannel and softer woman.