Free Snowbound With The Baronet by Deborah Hale

from voicing that thought. But he could not prevent his gaze from lingering upon her.
    There was nothing wrong with Mrs. Martin’s vision. Nor could the candlelight take all the credit for Cassandra’s winsome appearance. It did bring out the warm chestnut highlights in her dark hair and lent her complexion a rosy glow that made her look younger than her years. But was it also responsible for the sparkle in her deep brown eyes and the becoming air of softness about her features?
    His hand still tingled from its recent contact with hers. But now it began to ache with the urge to cup her chin or trail the back of his fingers over her cheek. He clutched the handle of his cup tight to keep such dangerous impulses in check.
    Meanwhile their hostess continued to smile at them as if she knew some amusing secret of which they were unaware. If he had not been so grateful to her and her husband, Brandon might have found her behavior rather vexing.
    “You must tell us what we can do to assist you today.” Lady Cassandra changed the subject, much to Brandon’s relief. “It is no easy task to look after a houseful of people at the best of times.”
    Brandon nodded. “There are chores that must be done no matter what the weather.”
    His years in the army had taught him that. But where had a duke’s daughter learned how much effort was required to tend so many guests?
    Their hostess considered for a moment. Her broad smile faded a little and her brow furrowed. “I will need a path made to the well and water fetched. The stock will need feeding and mucking out and the cows must be milked even if it was raining fire and brimstone. I reckon the eggs will need to be gathered. Then there’s always the fires to be tended and the cooking... and the washing up, of course.”
    “I can help with those at least and fetching the eggs,” Cassandra volunteered.
    “I will beat a path to your well and draw water,” Brandon offered, not to be outdone. “I am certain the others will be anxious to help out in any way they can.”
    With the exception of Imogene. Brandon could not picture his cousin turning her hand to household tasks. He feared what a mess she might make of them if she tried.
    All too soon the rest of the company began to wake and wander out to the kitchen. Brandon knew he ought to be grateful for the buffer their presence created between him and Cassandra. After all, he did not want to risk revealing more about his family or face whatever questions his earlier comments might provoke from her. Yet when he recalled those moments of murmured confidences in the shadowy farmhouse kitchen, he yearned to bundle everyone else out into the snow so he might have Cassandra all to himself again.
    He should not think such things! Brandon tried to blame his wayward inclinations on a lack of sleep. Nothing must stand in the way of his plan to marry Miss Reynolds—especially not a hopeless infatuation with a woman who had made her unwillingness to wed him quite clear.
    His effort to forget the past and treat her like a newly-met acquaintance had failed. His hopes for the storm to subside had come to nothing. Trying to ignore her had proven impossible as long as he could see or hear her. Clearly he needed to put some distance between them by any means necessary.
    With that aim in mind, he bundled up and ventured outside to make a path to the well. He threw himself into the task, dragging a large square board weighted with rocks until his hands blistered and his arms threatened to wrench out of their sockets. Yet he quickly discovered that repetitive manual labor left his mind free to wander wherever it chose. That was inevitably in the direction of Lady Cassandra Whitney. The unrelieved whiteness of his surroundings and the air full of wafting snowflakes provided no distraction when he most needed one. He must find a more challenging activity to occupy his thoughts!
    The cold finally drove him back inside where Mrs. Martin was effusive in her