“Is he? Isn’t that what we’re trying to prove right now?”
The woman walked toward Andrew, stood next to his shoulder and called out, “Dodger, come.”
Judas didn’t even need the thirty silver coins, he just leaped right on over to the woman.
“That’s a good boy!” At the same time the woman bent over to pet him, Dodger jumped up, throwing her off balance and into Andrew’s sturdy frame.
Before she could fall into the snow, Andrew reacted by grabbing her waist with his hands. And what an invitingly trim waist it was. Her arms landed around his neck.
When she looked up to meet his gaze, he was shocked to see the mirth and merriment dancing in her eyes.
With a mind of its own, his hand gravitated to her jawline and cupped her cheek. A lightning jolt flew through his system, locking him into place. He should avoid her eyes if he wanted to maintain any hope of staying above water. But instead he looked directly into their blinding light. It was worth the risk. This woman with the voice of an angel, but the wiles of a she-devil. What magic had she wrought with Dodger? The dog was bewitched. The same thing was happening to Andrew. He would answer her call. And his hand did answer a call, that of her cheek.
His fingertips barely grazed the silken strands at the nap of her neck. The skin to skin touch tethered an unknown part of him to her. A small snowflake landed just beneath her eye, and before he could wipe it away with his thumb, it melted against the warmth of her cheek, absorbed into her. If he could put his thoughts into words, he would have realized that he was that snowflake, and just one touch was melting his heart to her and absorbing him into her.
But he was a duke and didn’t give the snowflake that much thought. Instead, he had only a blustering sense more sentimental in nature: How the deuce could one touch, one moment impact him so much?
Seraphic sounds interrupted his cerebration. “Are you alright?”
The possible answers to the question were infinite. But at the moment, Andrew could think of nothing more important than calling out the mischievous glint he had seen in her eyes.
“You knew it was my dog?”
She nodded. With a whisper, she peered up at him through long dark lashes, “I saw you earlier, but I was avoiding people, so I walked in the other direction. Or so I thought.”
“Mmm,” was the most intelligent reply Andrew could come up with as he lost himself in her waters.
“You’re still holding me.”
Realizing he was still leaning over slightly in a half lunge position, Andrew straightened, but kept his hands in place. Something about her waist was calling to him.
Snowflakes continued to drip down from the sky, softly floating, aimlessly landing. The snow almost never fell like rain. Rain was purposeful, driven, seeking a destination; while snow ambled about sometimes moving up, down, and across the air. Andrew was always like the rain, but here, holding this waist, gazing into these eyes, he felt like snow.
“If you want to dance, you need only step out of your little box and ask.”
Box? He followed the angel’s eyes down to study the ground between them. He hadn’t realized that he had smoothed another square for himself in the snow. But a dance? That was not his first thought. Here, with the heat of her body seeping into his hands, and her face within inches, he could sense her joie de vivre, and something clicked.
It could be the Christmas season. It could be the serenity and solitude that the snow provided. It could be her indescribable verve. Whatever it was, the next words out of Andrew’s mouth surprised him by sending a jolt of lightning down his leg.
“May I have this dance?”
A flicker of something waltzed across her face but left no time to decipher it, for her reply was, “I thought you’d never ask.”
While hands migrated to the appropriate positions for a waltz, Andrew had no idea what the deuce he was doing. Waltzing in the snow with an unnamed woman and no music.
And then she started to hum. And her voice melted away any icicles of doubt that were starting to bud.
“You have the voice of an angel.” Had he really just said something as sappy as that?
The woman dipped her head. The heavenly notes broke for a brief moment as she breathed a quick, “Thank you,” and then continued humming.
Andrew was torn. His ears and heart didn’t want the song to cease, but his brain was growing desperate to know more about this dancing angel.
“What’s your name?”
“Rose.”
“Just Rose?”
