Snowbound at the Manor

‘Let you have it,’ he said, leaning back and letting his eyes close, starting to loosen the blankets and try to locate his arms. She was going to be desperate to get rid of him, he considered. Whatever plans she’d had for the house this weekend, he was sure that he didn’t feature in them. But with the snow still coming down outside, and no thaw predicted for days, she couldn’t see how she was going to manage that. He wondered if she’d realised yet that they were stuck with one another until the storm had passed.

‘So are you going to tell me what happened?’ she asked, addressing the elephant in the room.

‘Was in the woods. Got cold,’ Rufus said, attempting to shrug but hampered by the many layers of blankets. ‘The snow.’

‘Wow, you really are so forthcoming. If it’s some sort of state secret...’

‘I was coming to unlock the house,’ he told her, his tongue and his brain moving more easily now that the warmth of the fire was reaching deep into his chest, spreading through his body and thawing his brain. ‘Hit a deer. It ran off and I tried to find it—didn’t want it dying slowly. Snow came in fast. By the time I realised I was in trouble, I was closer to the house than the car.’

She looked at him for a moment, and he wondered whether she was revising her opinion of the man who had forced his way into her house. His house.

‘What were you going to do with the deer?’ she asked, her voice full of trepidation.

Or maybe she was thinking that he’d tracked an injured deer into the woods to get a kick out of putting it out of its misery. He dreaded to think what must be showing on his face to have given her that impression.

‘You the RSPCA?’

‘I’m the woman who found a random bloke on her doorstep and haven’t called the police. Yet. What were you going to do with the deer?’

‘My doorstep. I was going to ring the vet. Can’t say I had much more of a plan than that. What were you going to do with me?’

The corner of her lip lifted in a smile again. He felt another shot of warmth at that, the thought that he could make her smile, even when he was barely making sense. Her brown eyes shone beneath a heavy dark fringe.

She looked deliberately nonchalant. ‘Put you out of your misery with a handy rock and then use you to stock the freezer.’

He closed his eyes with just the barest hint of a smile on his lips. ‘Seems fair.’

CHAPTER THREE

GOD, BUT THAT SMILE. Not that she could even really call it that. It was ha

rdly dimples and sunshine. It was the deepening of the lines that bracketed his mouth from the corner of his nose into that dense beard on his chin. It was an extra crow’s foot by his eye, in that split second before the lid fell shut. It was...it was a hint of something soft hiding somewhere inside this big bloke. She was intrigued.

She prodded him gently in the ribs. ‘I’m meant to keep you awake.’

‘I am awake,’ he protested, unconvincingly.

‘The eyes-open kind. You need to warm up.’

He looked over at the fire.

‘I’m warm,’ he said.

She shook her head. ‘You’re sleepy at five in the afternoon. You’re staying awake until I say you can sleep.’

‘You always so bossy?’ he asked, and she prickled.

‘I’m not bossy. I should have left you out in the snow. Now, are you waking up or am I going to have to take drastic measures?’ This time, both eyes opened, just wide enough to assess her, like an unfriendly cat deciding whether she was worthy of its attention.

‘Be. More. Specific.’

His tone stopped her short, and all of a sudden the central heating must have kicked in, or the fire suddenly heated up—did they do that? Because her cheeks were aflame and she absolutely refused to believe it had anything to do with old grizzly here, and the way that his whole body seemed to hum with tension as he ground out those three little words through a clenched jaw.

‘I was thinking EastEnders,’ she said, scrambling to say anything other than what she was thinking. ‘Really loud. All those lovely cockney accents I’m sure you love.’ He forced both eyes properly open. ‘Or I could sing. I mean, I’m terrible, but I can probably manage some Christmas carols. Make it all festive in here.’

He dragged himself a little more upright, looking decidedly more scary than he had a moment ago.

‘No carols. No soaps. Nothing bloody festive. I beg you.’