Andrew let out a frustrated huff, his hand raking through his hair as he took a step closer. "This isn't about helping," he said, his voice rising slightly. "It's about you risking your health for no good reason. Fredrick could have done this perfectly well by himself."
Lavinia stood her ground, lifting her chin slightly. "I'm not a child, Andrew. I'm perfectly fine."
"You're not fine," he snapped, the harshness in his voice making her flinch. "You're reckless. What possessed you to come out here and do this? You should be inside, warming up, not—" He cut himself off with a frustrated exhale, gesturing toward the mess around them. "This is madness.
Before she could respond, Andrew reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a handkerchief. Without a word, he closed the gap between them and began brushing the dirt from her hands and sleeves with meticulous care. His touch was firm yet strangely gentle, his attention so focused that it left Lavinia momentarily speechless.
Her heart gave an unexpected flutter, a sensation that confused and unsettled her. She instinctively held her breath, unsure of how to react. Why was he doing this? Why now? His brow was furrowed in concentration, his lips pressed into a tight line. For a man who had kept his distance for days, his proximity now felt almost overwhelming.
"It is too cold for you to be outside," he said, almost in a whisper.
His words struck her in a way she couldn't quite explain. There was an undercurrent of something deeper in his voice that Lavinia had not heard before. Concern, frustration, perhaps even something else she didn't dare name. She swallowed hard, torn between frustration at his sudden interference and awarmth that spread through her chest despite her best efforts to suppress it.
Overwhelmed, she stepped away from him and cleared her throat. "I'll finish up quickly and retreat to my chambers."
"You're coming inside now, and that's final. Fredrick can take care of the garden."
Lavinia's chin tilted upward in defiance, a spark of determination lighting in her eyes. "I'm not finished yet, Andrew. This garden has been neglected for too long, and I intend to see it done properly."
He clenched his jaw, his frustration palpable. "You can't possibly think this is worth risking your health over. It's freezing, and you have been out here far too long already."
"I'm perfectly capable of deciding what I can handle," she replied sharply. "And I'm not risking anything. It's just a little cold."
"Let's go inside," he said calmly.
Lavinia stared at him, half expecting his frustration to turn toward her spending, the extravagant changes she had been making to the estate, the money she had so brazenly poured into renovations and frivolities. Surely, this would be the moment he called her out, accused her of recklessness not just with her health but with his coffers. Yet, to her surprise, he did not say anything in that regard.
"No," she answered plainly. "I'm not finished here. I don't think it is fair that you can interfere with my activities like this."
Andrew's gaze hardened. "You're impossible."
"And you're insufferable!" she shot back.
That was the breaking point. Without another word, Andrew strode forward, bent down, swept her off her feet and into his arms as if she weighed nothing. She first let out a gasp in protest, her hands instinctively reaching out to steady herself, and they landed against his chest...firm, solid, and radiating warmth even through the thick fabric of his coat. Her pulse quickened at the realization, and her breath hitched as her fingers briefly brushed against the hard planes of his chest.
"Andrew, put me down this instant!" she demanded, her voice betraying a tremor of disbelief rather than indignation. But he didn't respond, his jaw set and his grip unwavering as he carried her toward the house, the strength in his arms both alarming and...intoxicating.
Her cheeks flushed a deep crimson, her heart fluttering against her ribcage. It wasn't just the physical closeness that unsettled her, but the fact that no one—no man—had ever handled her with such a mix of authority and care. The sheer certainty in his movements, the ease with which he held her, left her momentarily speechless, torn between mortification and a strange, unfamiliar warmth that crept through her chest.
For the first time, she felt the stirrings of something she'd only ever associated with love. A fluttering vulnerability that left her entirely unprepared.
The warmth of Andrew's study hit Lavinia instantly the moment they passed through the door. The fire in the hearth crackled softly, its glow illuminating the richly paneled walls and casting flickering shadows across the room.
Without a word, he crossed the space and gently lowered her onto the plush leather couch near the fire. She opened her mouth to protest, but the resolute set of his jaw silenced her. He straightened and pulled off his coat in one swift motion, draping it over her shoulders before stepping back.
Lavinia shivered, not from cold, but from something she couldn't quite place. The scent of him clung to the fabric, stirring an inexplicable tightness in her chest. She gripped the edges of the coat, resisting the absurd urge to bury her face in it and breathe him in.
Andrew knelt in front of her, his large frame blocking out the firelight for a moment as he took her chilled hands into his. His touch was gentle, but warm enough to make her shiver again, not from cold, but from the confusing emotions swirling inside her. She was tempted to pull her hands away from his grasp, but she couldn't.
She didn't want to.
The room fell into silence, the only sound the occasional pop of the logs in the fireplace. Lavinia stared at their joined hands, her breath hitching at the sight of his fingers slowly rubbing warmth back into hers. She couldn't bring herself to meet his gaze, not when her heart was fluttering so wildly in her chest that she feared he might hear it.
Her cheeks burned, the sensation spreading down her neck and making her feel unbearably self-conscious. Why did this feel so different? Why did the simple act of his hands on hers stir something she didn't quite understand?
"You shouldn't push yourself like that," Andrew said softly, his voice low and almost...tender. "It's too cold for you to be outside like that."
Lavinia finally lifted her gaze, her eyes meeting his with an intensity that surprised even her. "You've been avoiding me, Andrew," she said to him, feeling so completely vulnerable in that moment that she couldn't help but bare her heart to him. "Ever since we married, you've barely looked at me. It is as if you regret marrying me, but what I don't understand is why you even did it in the first place if you didn't want to from the start."
