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about that wolf at the moment—the wolf in sheep’s skin she would now only refer to as Wicke. Or wolf. Or beast. Or all three combined.

“Are you attending the Masquerade Ball this year?” Langley asked. Like her, he had been up before dawn and had announced his decision to join her in making the snowman when they crossed paths in the dining room.

“I never attend,” Rebecca answered.

“You should change your mind.” She thought she heard a smile in his voice.

“Why?” Rebecca asked, patting at the neckline of her snowman. “Will there be acrobats?”

“Do you like acrobats?”

“Everyone loves acrobats.”

He chuckled. “No acrobats. Though if you did attend, you would be the novelty, my lady. The beautiful Lady Rebecca Flowerdy to make a rare appearance at the Stapleton Masquerade Ball. What mask might she be wearing? Who might she be?”

Rebecca laughed. “A rare silly notion.” She stepped back from the snowman. “What color eyes shall we give him?”

Langley rose from behind the snowman and nodded. “I’ll go hunt down a pair of stones if you agree to join us for at least one activity this year.”

“You are relentless.” Inside, her heart gave a nervous flutter. Could he perhaps be considering . . . An image of Wicke set upon her mind. Her lungs seized at the memory of his lips assaulting hers. Lawd, what had he done to her? She shook off the thought, and said, “I shall consider attending.”

Langley grinned, and the volume of his smile caught her off guard. She glimpsed a wealth of mischief in those brown eyes. Gazing upon him in that moment, Rebecca could not imagine kissing him now. Damn that wretched wolf-beast. He had done this.

“I believe you will, Lady Rebecca. Join, that is.” He winked.

Rebecca watched his long legs stride away with amusement. Had all the men lost their heads? There was no denying Langley was a handsome man. There was also no denying Wolfstan’s words. And his kiss. Times two. She would rather not think of the last one, which had disturbed Rebecca the most. The first had been shocking, but the second . . . that kiss had wreaked havoc with her dreams.

Luckily, she need only recall the beast’s rude remarks to blast away any foreign sentiments his kisses had provoked.

Rebecca scoffed.

She might not be as experienced as Wolfstan but neither was she a fool. Rebecca had always known Langley had in all likelihood not meant his words in a literal sense. It had been her decision to give Langley her first kiss. She had never, not once, expected more or looked beyond what would happen after that moment. After all, she’d known the moment she bought Knightley’s that she’d chosen a different life for herself.

And Rebecca quite liked that life.

Which made it all the more mortifying Wicke had seen Rebecca’s sketches. He believed her infatuated with Langley. Well, let him believe what he would.

“You are doing it all wrong.”

That voice. Even the throaty timbre that had been so familiar to her over the years did not sound the same. Rebecca whipped around. He stood two feet away from her, arms folded at his back, staring at her. How odd. There was a quality she’d always found peaceful in Wicke, and now, that same quality set her blood on fire.

“I beg your pardon?”

He pointed at the snowman. “That is not the right way to do it.”

“There is no right or wrong way to build a snowman,” she snapped. Lawd, this man.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I am sure.” She narrowed her eyes on him. “What’s wrong with my snowman?”

He gave her a look she could not interpret and strode over to her creation, hunching down on his knees. To her horror, he reached out and smoothed the lines of the cravat she had carved, and began patting and shaping lines of his own.

“What are you doing?” Rebecca cried out as he ruined all her efforts.

“Minor adjustments.”

“Those are not minor adjustments!” She cocked her head. Were those the swell of a woman’s breasts?

What utter madness! She watched in astonishment as he moved on to the face, which had been blank until he started to mold a small button nose and a pair of rather full lips.

Rebecca blinked.

Before she could react, he fished two pebbles out of his pocket and added them as eyes.

“Where did you get those?”

He nodded to the steps of the house.

“I cannot believe you ruined my snowman.”

“Ruined?” He stood and tilted back his head. “How about improved?”

How about she boxed his ears! All her effort had been reduced to a—she glared at the snowwoman.

Rebecca drew out an infuriated breath as Langley approached. He paused when his gaze fell on Wicke and his butchery.

Langley nodded thoughtfully. “A woman. Ingenious.”

“Not any woman,” Wolfstan declared with a shrug. “Rebecca.”

Rebecca blushed.

Her gaze traveled over the features Wicke had carved. He had not only turned her snowman into her, he’d given her the most puckish of lips. He had carved out the swell of her breasts, for Saint’s sake! What was wrong with the man?

“It was fine before,” Rebecca snapped and instantly regretted her tone when Langley’s gaze fell on her. Tell-tale warmth gathered at the tips of her ears.

“Cousin, give us a moment if you will?” Wicke spoke up.

Langley paused, then nodded. “I am off to Willoughby Castle in any event. Should I wait for you?”

Rebecca wanted to stick her head in the snow. She felt the heat of blotches stain her collarbone and creep up to her cheeks. She could not look at Langley. Dared not look at him.

“No,” Wicke answered. “Go ahead. I will follow soon as I am able.”

He was able now, Rebecca thought darkly. She was going to box Wicke’s ears.

“What is the matter with you?” she demanded as soon as Langley moved out of earshot. “We spent hours on that snowman! And your behavior is drawing unnecessary attention to us.”

“We need to talk, Rebecca.”

“We have nothing to discuss.” Not a possible thing that he could say that could shock her more

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