Page 50 of An Icy Christmas Engagement
“You can hardly walk on your own.”
“I can walk just fine. See?” She turned and made a show of taking large, exaggerated steps back and forth. “Without stumbling at all.”
Cedric was not amused. He crossed his arms. “This is not a battle your stubbornness will win, Lady Winterbourne. You’re either coming inside willingly or I’m taking you by force.”
He half expected her to squeak in alarm at the threat. Instead, she looked at him with skepticism. “By f-force? Right here in the middle of the street?”
“It will take very little to throw you over my shoulder.”
She only stared at him, a slow frown sinking her brows. Cedric waited without a word.
Then she turned to walk away. Cedric caught her by the elbow and she squealed.
“All right!” she cried. “Do not throw me over your shoulder like I am a sack of wheat!”
He released her and she marched by him, hugging the coat tightly and grumbling under her breath. Cedric fought his smile and followed suit.
Her steps slowed the moment she made it through the small foyer and to the door on the other end. A dozen faces turned to look at them. Cedric ignored the curious looks of his employees, taking Lady Winterbourne’s hand since she’d stopped dead in her tracks. He led the way and was happy that she at least had the good sense not to attempt another scene.
Silence stretched on as he made his way through the large room to his office door on the other end. He ushered her inside and was tempted to lock the door behind him—and would have if he didn’t think it would make her uncomfortable.
“Where am I?” she asked, looking around the room.
“The office of my business,” he explained. “You should sit by the fire.”
“I can do as I wish,” she countered.
Cedric watched her for a moment. She stared back, an unusual defiance in her eyes. But then she sighed and made her way to the crackling fire, pulling the armchair far closer than he would have liked. She even leaned in.
“Being stubborn gets me nowhere,” she said, closing her eyes against the warmth of the fire. “But when I do not stand up for myself, I am coerced down a path I do not want to go. There is no winning, is there?”
She looked so beautiful. Hair cascading around the massive shoulder pads of his coat, face glowing under the fire. For a moment, Cedric’s mind raced back to that insane moment when he’d nearly leaned in to kiss her on their way to the milliner. The temptation had been too much for him to fight.
Why in God’s name had he brought here? Alone?
He tore his eyes away, making his way over to the sideboard. He reminded himself of who he was, of his position, of the fact that he had more important things on his plate to focus any of his attention on a beautiful widower. As he poured a glass of whiskey and brought it over to where she sat, Cedric reminded himself thathe was a sentient being who had control over his thoughts and emotions.
Then she twisted to look up at him and all those reminders flew out of his head.
She looked down at the drink in his hand. “What’s that?”
“Whiskey,” he managed to say, holding it out to her. “Drink it.”
She frowned, seemingly bemused. Every expression on her face felt like he was deciphering an interesting piece of art. “Why would you offer me a glass of whiskey?”
“It will help warm you up,” he explained. “I assume you would like to get out of here quickly.”
She looked back at the glass. Then she took it, taking a gingerly sip. She grimaced as she swallowed. “This is absolutely horrid.”
“I’ll have you know that that is one of the finest spirits you can find in England.”
“It tastes like bitter ashes,” she explained. But then she took another sip. “And it is even worse the second time around. Don’t you have any wine?”
“I do. But I think the whiskey would be better for you.”
Her eyes narrowed as if she was studying him. “I suppose it should not surprise me that you are so controlling.”
“And I suppose it does not surprise me that you are so stubborn,” he countered as he took the chair next to her.
