Christmas At His Chateau. Rebecca Winters

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       CHAPTER FIVE

      ONCE again Faith was following Marcus across the castle lawn and off the island. This time, however, their footsteps left six-inch deep impressions in the flawless snow. Here, near the lake, it wasn’t that deep, but Marcus had told her it had drifted quite high in some of the dips and dells on the estate.

      Out on the road to the main gate a tractor was spreading grit, and up near the old stables a team of men with snow shovels were clearing the paths.

      Faith peeked from under the brim of her knitted hat and cast her eyes upwards as her breath made little icy clouds. The sky was the most amazing blend of the palest pastels, from rose-petal pink at the horizon through lilac and lavender to crisp blue high above.

      As she walked along a wide path that led away from the castle she could see that the water from the lake flowed underneath their feet and filled a second lake, longer and thinner. On the far side were fields and pockets of woodland, but she couldn’t see the nearest bank as it curved round the low hill where the stable block was situated.

      In front of the stables the path forked. Faith prepared to leave Marcus, who was on his way to the estate office, and continue her journey to the chapel, but he stopped where the paths divided. ‘I’d like to show you something.’

      Not exactly a request, but it wasn’t an order either. Yesterday she would have said no way, suspecting he had a pair of stocks waiting for the interloper, but she couldn’t quite wipe the memory of his unguarded laughter from the evening before, so she nodded and followed him under the arch of the redbrick building and into the yard beyond. Single-storey buildings framed the edges of a large cobbled square. Marcus led her to one on the right, unlocked the door and ushered her inside into a large bright space.

      ‘My mother had a fixation with watercolour painting for a while,’ he said. ‘We had this converted for her.’

      Faith took a few steps into the airy studio and stopped.

      Wow. What a view.

      The wall opposite the door was all glass, with a stupendous view of the lake. Just outside was a small decked area, and then the land fell away. Beautifully kept terraced gardens, the shape now muffled with great dollops of snow, had been cut into the side of the hill as it dipped towards the lake. Geese floated aimlessly on the water and she watched silently as a low-flying swan made a rather inelegant landing, carving a wake on the lake’s surface and causing the other birds to flutter and scurry.

      ‘Will this do for a workspace?’

      She looked back at him. Some people would have described his face as blank, but Faith knew better. She could see a difference in his eyes, in the set of his mouth. She knew instantly what this meant. This was his way of calling a truce.

      Nothing as simple as a laying down of arms, though. Marcus was like those medieval castles that had rings and rings of walls and defences, and she understood that all he’d done was let her inside the first gate.

      And she was quite happy to camp for the remainder of her time at Hadsborough. One notch down from frosty resentment suited her just fine. She’d be safe from those sizzling glares, but not close enough to be tempted by what she saw inside. This would be good. She could handle cordial but distant Marcus.

      ‘So this space will work for you?’ he said.

      ‘Yes, thank you,’ she replied, giving her best impression of calm and professional. Fake it, she told herself. Pretty soon the rest of you will catch up and it’ll become real.

      If only she’d known just how wrong she was—just how the glimmer of humour in his eyes would be her undoing.

      ‘I’m sure you’d tell me if it didn’t,’ he said.

      Faith blinked. Was Marcus—was the Earl—teasing her?

      The jittery feeling she’d been fighting fairly successfully since the night before returned, but she lifted her chin and looked at him while she locked everything down. Made sure not a hint of a tremor showed on the outside.

      ‘You got that right,’ she said, and then she turned and headed back towards the door—away from the beautiful view, away from the beautiful man. Sensible gal.

      ‘Now, I’m off to see that window before we both freeze our butts off.’

      She ignored the huff of dry laughter behind her and headed back out into the cold, hoping the chilly air would rob her cheeks of some of their colour.