Lord Barnes had taken another jacket from the closet and was now putting it on over his brown coat and trousers.
Fiona jumped up and down, clapping her gloved hands. “Hurry, Papa and Miss Quinn. I want to find Cymbeline.”
Josephine and Fiona wore matching thick red coats, white hats, and scarves.
“You two are pretty as a postcard,” I said.
They smiled. “You are too,” Josephine said.
“What’s a postcard?” Fiona asked.
“I’ll explain later,” Josephine said.
“Ah yes, one last thing.” Lord Barnes reached up to the top shelf of the closet and pulled down a scarf. “You’ll want this too, Miss Cooper.”
I reached for it, but he ignored me, wrapping it around my neck. His mouth turned upward in a slight smile as he looked down at me. “Now you’re ready.”
I had to tear my gaze from his beautiful eyes for fear I might fall into them and never escape their green pools. “Thank you,” I said. “And now we must go out before I roast.”
I squinted into the bright light. My eyes watered from the shock of the cold. Still, the fresh air invigorated me. A new layer of dry snow made the world quiet and without scars. The air crackled with energy. I had an urge to flop down and make an angel as I had as a child.
Josephine smiled up at me. “Do you see it? How perfect it is after new snow?”
“Yes, very much so.”
Fiona had hold of Lord Barnes’s hand. “Come see our swing, Miss Quinn.”
Josephine linked her arm in mine as we walked in the fallen snow, following behind Lord Barnes and Fiona. I bunched my skirt into one hand. Despite the awkwardness of my overly large boots and cumbersome dress, we moved easily through the powdery snow until we reached a large oak. A primitive wooden swing hung from a thick branch.
“Look up,” Josephine said.
I did so. A square wooden structure perched in the branches above. Snow covered its flat roof, and a rope ladder dangled from an open doorway.
“Papa built it,” Fiona said.
“Really?” I looked over at him.
He chuckled as he took a tobacco pipe from his jacket pocket. “Don’t look shocked, Miss Cooper. I’m not only a useless lord.”
“Would you like to swing?” Josephine asked.
“Oh no. I’m too big,” I said.
“Nonsense,” Lord Barnes said as he lit his pipe with a match. “This swing holds me.”
Before I could protest, Josephine dragged me over to the swing. Someone must have used it already this morning, because the wood had been cleared of snow and ice. However, the seat hung about six inches over the snow. I’d have to keep my legs straight if I were to move at all. “How will I pump my legs?” I asked.
“Papa will push you,” Fiona said.
“It’s the only way in the snow.” Josephine tilted her head, as if this were a most serious matter.
I sat gingerly and stretched my legs out into a straight position. Holding tightly to the handles, I waited as Lord Barnes, with his pipe in one corner of his mouth, walked around to the back of the swing. The scent of the pipe tobacco came with him.
His first push on the small of my back was no more than a nudge. I could feel the gentleness of his hands even through my layer of clothing. The second, however, was more powerful, lifting me high into the air. Skirts flying around me I swooped up and back, each time flying higher. I laughed like a child. Fiona squealed with delight, obviously thrilled that I was having such fun. Josephine’s expression, on the other hand, was one of longing. Did she miss her mother? Had Lord Barnes pushed her on the swing like this?
“All right, that’s quite enough swinging for one day,” I said.
Lord Barnes wrapped his arms around my waist to stop me. For a split second he held me tightly against his broad chest. I drew in a sharp breath and smelled his shaving cream mixed with tobacco smoke. His physical nearness evoked something carnal. A stirring of my blood. Heat and desire and the wish that I could know all of him. I longed to be swept into his arms and taken to his bed. Never in my