For a moment, one single, solitary moment, Mr Ambrose didn't move. Then he disappeared from the window, and a moment later, the door was torn open – literally. The flimsy thing flew right off its mouldy hinges and clattered to the floor somewhere inside. Mr Ambrose didn't seem to care. He was striding across the snow-covered yard with singular purpose, all his focus, all his icy energy, all his power concentrated on one thing – me.

He stopped a few paces away.

'Miss Linton.'

Just those two words. Nothing more. But the meaning vibrating in every syllable...

I swallowed.

'You took your time, Sir.'

His eyes met mine, delving, devouring, claiming.

'You seem to have managed well enough on your own.'

'Yes, I did, didn't I? Maybe I should just ride away and leave you here. It wasn't a particularly good rescue, you know.'

'Miss Linton?'

'Yes, Mr Ambrose, Sir?'

'Get off my horse.'

I smiled. 'I don't think so. I think I'll–'

But that was as far as I got. Because in the very next moment, Mr Rikkard Ambrose crossed the remaining distance between us. His arms lunged up. His foot found the stirrup. And the next thing I knew, he was half dragging himself up, half dragging me down. He didn't wait for either of us to make it the whole way before his lips claimed mine.

'Silence!' he growled against my mouth.

I didn't usually hold with men telling me to shut up – or telling me anything, for that matter. But with him kissing me like that...I might just make an exception. His mouth was a searing brand on mine. Waves of heat coursed through me, interlaced with shivers all over my body. How a man this cold could ignite such a fire inside of me was a mystery to me – but he did. Oh, how he did.

'My little ifrit,' he breathed against my lips.

'You should take your own good advice,' I shot back. 'Shut up and kiss me!'

I would never have thought Mr Rikkard Ambrose was one for taking orders. But this one he obeyed, fast, hard, and fierce. Strong arms encircled me, pulling me against a chest so hard you could break a chisel on it, nearly squeezing all the air out of me. In his kiss, his embrace, and every hard line of his body, I could feel the tension, screaming to be released. The realisation hit me like a boulder in the face: he had been scared. Scared for me.

I hugged him close and pressed my face into his chest before he could read the knowledge in my eyes.

'Thank you,' I murmured. 'Thank you for coming for me.'

In response, his grip tightened even more. 'I had no intentions of finding a new secretary. Do you know what vacancy advertisements cost these days?'

Glancing over his shoulder at the small army of riders approaching from every direction, I privately thought to myself that it would probably cost less than an escort of three dozen heavily armed men. However, I didn't voice this thought aloud. There were more important things to take care of right now.

Like continuing to kiss him?

Well, yes, that too. But first...

Lifting my face from his chest, I looked straight into his eyes. Our faces were so close that our foreheads touched. It felt...right.

'Let's get out of here!' I suggested.

'Agreed.'

Letting go of me, he took hold of the saddle, vaulting up onto the horse behind me. A short gasp escaped me as I felt him settling in so close, his chest pressing into my back. I had never felt anything like it. Even after all we had already done, this felt strangely intimate. A hundred times more so when his arms came around me, clutching me close.

My ears burning with embarrassment, I looked around. All the riders had returned by now and were gazing at me and Mr Ambrose with big, big eyes. It was clear that they knew Mr Rikkard Ambrose. It was also clear that they weren't used to seeing him sitting on horseback with his arms wrapped around a woman.

'Miss Linton,' my dear employer informed them in a tone cold enough to give frostbite, 'is a gently bred lady of good family and impeccable reputation. She would never do anything so rash as to kiss a man in public. If anyone were to suggest differently, I would be...displeased. Do we understand each other?'

Mesmerised, the men nodded.

'Adequate. Well, gentlemen? What are you waiting for? Ride!'

And before I could point out that I had been first on the horse and as such should be in charge, thank you very much, his hands grasped the reins.

'Gee-up!'

We raced off across the plain, snow spewing up right and left, a storm of crystals sparkling in the cold air. Around us, the riders followed suit, slowly forming a protective circle as we approached the woods. Leaning back, I relaxed into Mr Ambrose's hard chest. It felt nice, having someone to lean on. With a twinge of pain I realised that I had never had this before. Oh, I'd had my friends, and my little sister, but nothing like this. This felt different.

His arms around me tightened in silent agreement.

'How did you find me?' I whispered.

Somehow he understood me, even over the thunder of the hooves.

'I had sent one of my mother's servants with a letter to Newcastle requesting reinforcements from my agents and additional hired personnel as soon as Dalgliesh arrived,' he explained, his voice clipped. 'They arrived shortly after...after you...'

'After I disappeared,' I finished the sentence quietly.

He nodded. 'The room didn't look as if there had been a struggle. I surmised that the maid had been in league with Dalgliesh, and that she would be aiming to make a quick getaway after getting paid. So I sent three of my men to lay in wait on the road to the closest port city, and another three on the road south to London.' Even though I couldn't see his face, I could almost feel the cold glitter in his eyes. 'It wasn't long before she appeared.'

A smile tugged at one corner of my mouth. 'You have her?'

'Karim does. He's explaining the errors of her ways to her.'

'Oh.' That corner of my mouth curved up another inch or so. 'Oh dear.'

'Indeed.'

We fell silent then. But that wasn't a problem. Silence wasn't bad. In fact, cantering across the snowy expanse of the plain with Mr Ambrose's arms wrapped around me, snow swirling around us like miniature diamonds, it was bloody wonderful. I nearly made me forget that my wet feet were about to freeze.

'Bridge ahead, Sir!' the silence was broken by one of the riders. The man pointed ahead and, following the direction of his arm with my gaze, I saw a small bridge spanning a half-frozen river. The little thing had clearly seen better days – in the Middle Ages. Its weathered stones were covered by ivy and moss, and the arch seemed to sweep towards the sky with a sort of rheumatic charm: Look here! I may be seven hundred years old, but I'm still in as good a shape as ever!

'Developed an interest in medieval architecture, have you, Mr Ambrose?' I enquired.

'No. This is where we are meeting up with Karim and the other men.'

'The other men?'

'The maid could not provide any information on whether Dalgliesh had already removed you from the hut she saw you in. So I sent some men to Dalgliesh's closest holding, just in case.'

Dear me. He really had gone all out with this rescue. Carefully, out of the corner of my eye, I glanced up at the stern face of Mr Rikkard Ambrose. It was impassive and cold, just as immovable as ever, and yet, and yet...there was something in his eyes. Something that hadn't been there before. And I didn't mean a stye.

'Halt!'

Mr Ambrose raised a hand. Only a few yards away from the bridge, our cavalcade came to a stop. In an effortless move, Mr Ambrose slid out of the saddle, taking me with him. If I'd imagined him doing something silly and romantic like catching me in his arms, however, I was disappointed. I landed solidly on my own two feet.

How fabulous that I was a feminist and would never, ever expect such a thing!

'Spread out!' Mr Ambrose commanded. 'Dalgliesh's men may follow our trail and decide to attack. If they do, I want ample warning. Form a perimeter. Keep your guns handy, and be ready to fight.'

'Yes, Sir! You heard him, men. Go!'

The riders scattered, leaving Mr Ambrose and me alone at one end of the bridge.

'Come.' Jerking his head towards the moss-covered stone arc, Mr Ambrose strode forward. He stopped only when he was standing at the apex of the bridge. Resting his hands on the stone railing, he gazed out over the ice of the river. I stepped up beside him, hands under my armpits to protect them against the biting cold. A stiff breeze bit into my face, and a shiver ran down my spine.

'Bloody hell! You couldn't have found a warm spot to wait, could you?'

'At the time, Miss Linton, I had slightly more pressing matters on my mind.'

Like whether or not you would survive. He didn't say it, but he didn't need to. I heard the words as clear as a bell.

Silently, he lifted one arm, extending it towards me. Without even thinking about it, I scuttled closer, snuggling against him, his arm wrapped around my shoulder. Good God...! How could such a cold man feel so incredibly warm?

For a while we just stood there, gazing out across the icy river sparkling in the light of the sinking sun. The sunset was alive with fire, painting the entire expanse of ice and snow a glowing red-golden colour. It made the world look just like I felt: on fire in the grip of ice.

'Miss Linton?'

I resisted the temptation to glance up at Mr Ambrose's face. To judge by the sound of his voice, things might be visible there that he would not want anyone to see.

'Yes, Mr Ambrose, Sir?'

'While Dalgliesh had you in his power, did he...do anything? Hurt you in any way?'

The arm around my shoulders tightened to an almost painful degree. I didn't complain. Instead, I only pressed myself against him closer.

'No, he didn't harm me.' In order to keep him from starting a war in the middle of the English countryside, I decided it was probably better not to mention Dalgliesh's plans with regard to certain of my fingers. 'But he did talk quite a lot.'

'Whatever he told you was probably lies.'

I took a deep breath.

Here goes nothing...

'Oh? So you didn't run away from home as a boy because of an argument with your father, then?'

I felt him stiffen even more. Cold suddenly radiated from him in icy waves.

'It was somewhat more complicated than that, Miss Linton.'

Why? I screamed inside. Why and how? Explain! I'm here for you! You can trust me!

I wanted to ask all of that and more. But the tone of his voice made me think better of it. Whatever had happened – Dalgliesh had not told me the truth. Or at least not the whole truth. Half-truths could be so much more dangerous than lies, sometimes.

Later, Lilly. Later.

Reaching for his hand and giving it a squeeze, I leaned my head against him. 'I said it once already, I believe, but...thank you. I might have got out of there by myself – but then again, I might not have. If Dalgliesh had come back with enough men and searched the woods...'

I let the sentence trail off into a shudder. I didn't really want to imagine what might have happened then.

He hesitated a moment – then squeezed my hand back. When I glanced up at his face out of the corner of my eye, it was rigid and harder than ever. So hard, in fact, it looked close to shattering.

'I...had to come.'

My heart rate picked up. 'Really?'

His arm around my shoulders tightened once more, as if wanting to make sure I was really there. 'Yes.'

There was a moment of silence. Then...

'I am not a man who often expresses his emotions, Miss Linton.'

'You don't say?'

'But I must admit I was...somewhat concerned for you.'

I had to work hard to keep a smile from my face.

'Somewhat concerned? Dear God, really?'

Abruptly, he turned towards me, his eyes blazing with cold fire. 'Dammit! Do not joke, Miss Linton!'

I looked up at him, the picture of innocence drawn by a five-year-old with absolutely no artistic talent. 'I wouldn't dare!'

Stepping towards me, he reached out, until one of his hands gently touched my cheek. 'I...' He swallowed, and tried again. 'I might be slightly...irrationally infatuated with you.'

Warmth spread deep inside me. And on my face, a grin did. 'Irrationally infatuated? Dear me!'

His jaw clenched. 'All right, all right! I may even have certain...impulses towards you that border on caring about you.'

'You don't say?' I raised an eyebrow at him. 'Well, I am so glad to hear that you feel a certain amount of friendship towards me.'

His dark gaze pierced me accusingly. But I was enjoying this far too much to stop. I wouldn't make it easy for him.

'Friendship is not quite the right word, Miss Linton,' he bit out between clenched teeth, every word like a shard of burning ice. 'My impulses towards you...they might go slightly beyond the platonic.'

'Oh, so they are Aristotelian?'

'Mr Lin–' He swallowed, hard. 'I mean Miss Linton, we are not discussing philosophy here!'

I batted my eyelashes at him. 'Indeed? Then pray tell, what are we discussing?'

'I...I...'

'You can say it, you know,' I told him. 'The word isn't poisonous.'

'I...have feelings towards you.'

'Clearly. I knew that from the first day from the way you shouted at me and pelted me with threats.'

'Not those kinds of feelings!'

'What kind, then?'

'I feel...affection towards you.'

'You're nearly there,' I encouraged him, my smile widening. 'Just four little letters. The word starts with L. Go on. You can do it.'

'You're enjoying this, Miss Linton, aren't you?'

'Very much so.'

'Oh, to hell with it!' Dropping his hand from my face, he grabbed both my shoulders roughly and dragged me towards him. His mouth took mine in a fast, fierce, bruising kiss. It went on and on until I thought my lungs would burst and my mind catch fire. Finally, he broke away, and with the remnants of his breath whispered: 'I love you!'