Free Snowbound With The Baronet by Deborah Hale Page A

thanks. “It’s a blessing that well is good and deep. I was half afraid you might find the water frozen. Now come sit by the fire and thaw yourself out.”
    “Has the snow eased at all?” asked Imogene, who was seated at the table eating bread and butter.
    His cousin’s hair was pinned in a simple but pretty style, as was Lady Cassandra’s. Brandon noted the latter with a faint qualm of regret. He preferred the loose braid she’d worn earlier. He wished he could once see her rich, dark hair entirely unbound.
    Blast! He was not supposed to think such things. He was not supposed to look at her.
    “Far from it,” he answered his cousin’s question. Frustration with himself and their situation sharpened his words. “The snow is coming down harder than ever. Heaven knows when the roads will be fit to travel.”
    “What about our luggage?” Imogene wailed.
    “What about it?” Brandon sank onto a chair in the corner nook beside the kitchen hearth. “We did not bring a great deal with us and what we did is stowed in the boot of the stagecoach.”
    “What if someone steals it?” his cousin demanded. “I heard the farmer and the coach-driver talking about highwaymen who rob coaches on this road.”
    Mrs. Martin laughed as she cooled steaming water from the kettle with some Brandon had fetched from the well. “That was thirty years ago, Miss. Even if they’d still been around, the Cherhill Gang would never have disturbed your carriage.”
    “Why not?” Somehow Imogene sounded disappointed that their luggage might be safe from theft.
    “Because, that lot only worked in warm weather.” Mrs. Martin grated a bit of soap into the washbasin. “They used to rob coaches stark naked. It shocked folks so bad they did not put up a fight and afterwards no one could give a proper description of the thieves.”
    Brandon could not contain a hoot of laughter at such comical audacity, but Imogene looked thoroughly shocked by the notion of naked highwaymen. Lady Cassandra tried to stifle a grin, but did not succeed.
    Too late Brandon remembered he was not supposed to be looking at her. His eyes seemed to have developed a will of their own.
    “But I cannot wear the same dress day after day,” Imogene protested. “I need proper nightclothes and my own comb. Can’t someone go and fetch them?”
    Brandon could think of a dozen reasons why such an expedition should be out of the question. But it would take him away from Lady Cassandra and provide him with a task difficult and dangerous enough to keep his thoughts from straying in undesirable directions.
    Not undesirable, he reflected as he watched her drying dishes for Mrs. Martin. If anything, far too desirable. “Once I have warmed up a little, I will see what I can do.”
    Imogene clapped her hands but Lady Cassandra cried, “No, you must not! Remember what it was like last night? It has snowed a great deal more since then.”
    Did she think he was not capable of the task? He would show her. “That was different. The light was fading. We had no idea where we were going or how long it would take to get there,”
    “What if you lose your way?” she challenged him. “I would wear the same dress for a year rather than risk your safety!”
    She was worried about him? Brandon’s heart bounded. That did not mean she cared for him in any particular way, reason insisted. She might have said the same about the coach guard or his footman.
    “That is kind of you,” he replied. “But I do not expect to be in any danger. It will be light for hours yet and we can retrace our steps through the snow on our return journey.”
    “Of course you can!” Imogene sprang from her seat and flew to offer Brandon a grateful embrace.
    He glanced up to find Lady Cassandra watching them. In spite of her fierce scowl, the slant of her brows somehow suggested that she wished she could change places with his cousin.
    Or was he only imagining it because that was what he wished? All the more reason