The Ice Queen

by Sasha Cottman

  He was about to host a week-long party with a house full of strangers which would normally have filled him with dread. Yet as the hours passed and no other guests arrived, he found himself privately fretting.

  “The invitations were clear about the party kicking off today? Excuse my questioning but I just want to check my understanding,” he said.

  Julian was standing in the upstairs drawing room, a space he and Lady Margaret had reserved as off limits to their guests for the duration of the house party. It was somewhere for them to gather at the end of each day and decide how well things were going, and what, if any, changes were required for the following day’s entertainments.

  Lady Margaret held open her diary. The date was clearly marked as being the start of the house party. He knew she would not make such a simple mistake, but he could not help his rising anxiety.

  “And you and the countess were clear on when the party was to take place?” he added.

  She nodded. “Very clear. In fact, I was with her when she wrote the last of the invitations. Since I don’t particularly trust your mother, I made a point of checking all her notes.”

  Julian strode over to the window and looked outside. Caroline, her brother, and cousin were walking the snow-covered grounds. He smiled as he saw James fashion a large snowball and toss it in the direction of Francis.

  It hit Francis square in the back. He turned, and Julian caught the look of indignation on his face.

  Francis took off his hat and handed it to Caroline. She pointed a finger at James. Julian couldn’t hear what they were saying but it was clear the challenge had been accepted. A snowball fight was looming.

  Lady Margaret came to his side and looked out the window. “Why don’t you go outside and spend time with the guests who are here? I am sure the rest of them will start to arrive shortly.”

  Julian hurried downstairs and put on his long winter coat, a hat, and warm leather gloves. Midas followed him out of the house.

  Outside, he stopped and paused for a moment. While he was eager to join the frivolities, he wasn’t sure how he should step into the game. He was an outsider in his own home.

  Midas had no such reservations and bounded over to Caroline, barking loudly in welcome.

  Stepping onto the snow-covered grass, Julian headed toward where Caroline stood, still holding Francis’s hat. She was in neutral territory from what he could ascertain. Beside her, Midas was watching the fight with wide eyes.

  “Ah, Julian. Welcome to the box seat for the next round in the never-ending snowball fight between Francis and James,” she said.

  “Never-ending?” he replied.

  A large snowball landed in the middle of James’s chest, and he staggered back as if he had been shot. Francis bellowed with laughter. Midas barked.

  “Yes. This started in Scotland many years ago. Neither has ever called time on the battle. It’s not quite the Hundred Years War, but I think they intend it to get close,” she said.

  “Oh!”

  The sickening sound of Francis taking a snowball to the side of his face had them both wincing. Even James paused for a moment, but within seconds was back hurriedly scooping up snow in his hands and making the next of his deadly missiles.

  “It must be nice to have such a close family,” said Julian. He was about to add a further remark about how much fun they must have when his vision was suddenly blacked-out. A snowball had hit him square in the face. Midas growled, but stayed by Caroline’s side.

  “No! You can’t attack our host!” cried Caroline.

  The evil laughter that emanated from both Francis and James told Julian they thought otherwise.

  “Righto. If the two of you wish to play that way, you shall reap what you sow,” she said.

  Julian had just finished wiping the snow from his face when, to his surprise and secret delight, he saw Caroline unceremoniously drop Francis’s hat to the ground before bending down and scooping up a sizeable handful of snow. With her one good hand, she tossed it into the air several times, crushing it into a snowball as she caught it.

  Francis took the first blow from his sister, and it nearly knocked him off his feet. Julian nodded his approval of Caroline’s deadly throwing arm.

  James and Francis moved to line up alongside one another. With Julian and Caroline facing them, the battle began in earnest.

  For someone with a badly damaged hand, Caroline was more than able to hold her ground. She and Julian quickly settled into a well-oiled snowball-making and throwing machine. As fast as Julian could gather up the soft snow in his hands and form a decent-sized ball, Caroline was throwing it with her highly accurate aim. She never missed.

  “Traitor!” cried Francis, as he took yet another snowball to the head.

  Julian and Caroline exchanged feigned outrage, then laughed.

  “How much do you love your brother?” asked Julian.

  Caroline chuckled. “With all my heart. But then again, I do have William, and he is the older of them. I am sure my parents won’t be too heartbroken if we injure this one.”

  “Good. Because at the rate he is taking blows to the head, you may actually kill him. I just thought I should mention it,” replied Julian, with a grin.

  A roar of protest went up from Francis as James dropped the last of his snowballs and held up his hands.

  “I surrender!” cried James. He raced across the yard and dropped to his knees before Caroline. Julian laughed as James put his hands together and begged for mercy. Midas took the opportunity to bury his wet nose into the side of James’s face.

  Caroline turned to her ally. “I am not sure what our official war policy is here. I am all in favor of shooting prisoners, but as you are the diplomat, I shall leave it to you to decide this man’s fate.”

  James hurriedly crawled over to kneel before Julian. Francis tossed the last of his snowballs at the back of his cousin’s head, and strolled over.

  “I would shoot the turncoat if it was me,” said Francis. He held out his hand and helped James to his feet.

  “Swine,” James muttered.

  “Julian and I are prepared to be merciful in this case,” said Caroline.

  She was smiling as she spoke, but Julian did not fail to see the odd look which passed between James and Francis. He took it as a good sign. They were protective of her.

  Only a minute or so ago she had been trying to kill them, but Caroline’s male relatives wasted no time in making sure Julian knew where he stood. While Francis took hold of Caroline’s arm, James placed himself in the space between her and Julian.

  “No one else has arrived?” asked James.

  Julian frowned. “No, and the road is clear through to Midway at the moment. Though I am not so sure what the later hours will bring.”

  A collective gaze to the heavens had them all shaking their heads. The clear morning skies had been replaced with low, dark snow clouds. If the other guests did not make it through to Newhall Castle within the next few hours, they would not make it for supper.

  “Well let’s hope for more arrivals before nightfall. If not, James and I will ride out with you at first light to check the roads,” said Francis.

  When Caroline smiled up at her tall brother, Julian sensed she was thanking him for offering to help.

  “Let’s head inside and find some hot food. Our cook has been baking all morning, and I have been waiting to test the latest batch of her famous chicken pies,” said Julian.

  Caroline gave Midas a friendly pat. “And who are you, apart from a brave battle dog?”

  “His name is Midas. My father gave him to me just before I went to war,” replied Julian.

  As they continued back toward the front door, Midas fell in beside Caroline. She happily chatted away to the dog, who in turn wagged his tail.

  James and Francis wasted no time in taking the lead. As Julian followed, he quietly indulged in a gentleman’s study of Caroline’s curves. The soft swing of her hips was sweet enough to have him gritting his teet
h.

  The sensible Julian Palmer, who knew only too well the heartache that came from loving a beautiful woman, now found himself battling against a new opponent—the Julian who longed to hold Caroline in his arms.

  Chapter Twenty

  Caroline unwound the bandage that protected her stitches. She looked away as Julian gently held her hand and examined his handiwork.

  “You are not going to faint again?” he asked.

  “No. As long as I don’t look at my hand, I shall be fine,” she replied.

  “How is it?” asked Francis.

  Her brother stood close to the low couch where Caroline was seated next to Julian. Much as she had reassured Francis that she was capable of receiving medical attention from their host without there being any hint of impropriety, he had insisted on being present while her injury underwent inspection.

  Julian ran the tip of his finger along her palm, carefully avoiding the stitches. Caroline shivered at his touch.

  “That’s a good sign. It means you haven’t damaged the nerves,” he said, as he raised his head and smiled at her.

  “Shall I be able to play the pianoforte properly once this wound heals?” she asked.

  Julian nodded. “Yes, I hope so.”

  “Excellent. So, something good will come from your injury Caroline. You shall finally be able to play the pianoforte. Who would have thought that all those years of suffering from your terrible playing could have been avoided by merely stabbing you in the hand,” said Francis.

  A tart response was almost on her lips, but the look of surprise on Julian’s face at Francis’s remark stopped her short.

  “I’m sorry, Julian. You must forgive the way we tease one another. It is what we do. When my hand is fully recovered, I promise to play for you. Then you can be the judge of whether I am accomplished or not.” Caroline cast an evil glare at Francis, who raised an eyebrow in return. She prayed he would soon grow bored of watching Julian tend to her wound and decide to take his leave. Had he never heard of three being a crowd? She most certainly did not need him to chaperone her in a sitting room in the middle of the day. His brotherly quips were fast becoming embarrassing.

  “I shall change the bandage and wrap it again. If you could keep it dry, and try not to use the hand too much over the next few days, the stitches will allow the wound to begin to heal,” said Julian.

  Disappointment flared at his words. Her injured hand would restrict her from much of the dancing. Also, now in jeopardy would be the opportunity for her to join the hunting party. The more she thought about it, the more she realized that for the first time in her life, she would be relegated to the role of wallflower for much of the house party.

  Caroline was not used to the idea of sitting in the wings. She was the star. Front and center stage, where everyone could see her. Her stay at Newhall Castle was throwing up a whole new set of unexpected challenges.

  Julian unrolled a clean bandage and began to wrap it around her hand. He hummed softly to himself as he worked. Caroline watched him. The deep tone of his voice was a warm lullaby. She leaned closer. Their faces were mere inches apart.

  When he glanced up at her, she felt her heart flutter. A flush of heat raced to her cheeks. She lowered her head, hoping that Francis had not seen.

  She sent a silent prayer to the heavens as Francis made several steps toward the door. “I won’t be long. I shall retrieve a book from my room and come back to join you both shortly,” he said.

  To her surprise, Julian softly chuckled as Francis left the room. “Is he always as protective of you as he has been since you got here? Because if not, a chap might get the impression that Francis did not trust him,” he said. He finished wrapping the bandage and tied it off with a clever little knot which he then tucked back under the bandage. It was a neat job. Caroline was impressed.

  “I have had a trying time of late. He is simply doing everything he can to make sure I enjoy myself while at the house party. Speaking of which, it looks more than likely that there shall only be our small gathering for supper,” she replied. She was oddly conflicted over the lack of other guests. She was sad for Julian because his party was not starting off according to plan. A great deal of preparation had obviously gone into having Newhall Castle ready for some thirty-odd guests. Her heart went out to him as she sensed his growing unease.

  On the other hand, a small spark of something she thought might possibly be joy lit in her heart. As he put the scissors and spare bandages back into the small leather bag, she watched him with an interested eye.

  Julian picked up the bag and rose from the couch. “Yes, I believe you might be right. Anyone still on the road through from Leicester at this hour is likely to stop at Ashby-de-la-Zouch and stay at the Queen’s Head. I will of course have the stable hands and grooms ready for any late arrivals. In the meantime, I had better go and speak with Lady Margaret and see what can be done with the mountain of pies that were baked this morning.”

  After Julian left, Caroline wandered over to the window. The light was fading fast.

  Francis returned shortly after, carrying the book he had promised to retrieve. “Bit of an awkward situation with no one else arriving,” he noted.

  Caroline nodded. “Yes, well fortunately, Julian has a castle full of servants who no doubt will find a good use for all that extra food. I feel embarrassed for him. The first time he holds a house party and nothing seems to have gone right.”

  Her brother knitted his eyebrows. He came to Caroline’s side. “Since when did Newhall become Julian?”

  She knew he wasn’t trying to tell her what to do, the Saunders males were not that foolish, but still, she resented his tone. The warm, but slightly patronizing one that he used when trying to win her over to his way of thinking.

  “Since we all agreed in the coach on the way up from London that I would attempt to be more amenable and pleasant,” she replied.

  “Don’t you think you are being a little too familiar with him?” asked Francis.

  “So, you don’t want me to call him by the name he has offered to me as part of our attempt to be friends. Why not?” she added.

  “I am not saying you shouldn’t be friends with Newhall; I am simply saying you may want to be careful about being overfamiliar with him. By using his first name, you will make others think you have already laid a claim to our host. Considering you have declared no interest in becoming his countess, I would suggest that it is not such a good idea.”

  She had come to Derbyshire to get away from London. To be free of the constant unwelcome attention from her devoted but delusional suitors. She had no business in muddying the waters of Julian Palmer’s marriage pool.

  “Alright, as soon as everyone else arrives tomorrow, I shall go back to calling him Newhall. If he asks me why, I shall explain it is to keep a level playing field for all the potential candidates. I am sure he will find that somewhat amusing,” she replied.

  Francis was right; she had no intention whatsoever in marrying Julian. They were friends, nothing more. She had to take a well-considered large step away from him.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  It began to snow again in the early evening. By the time the small house party came down for supper, there were a good four inches on the ground outside.

  Caroline stopped on the stairs and looked out the window. She clenched her right hand into a fist and punched the air with glee. Caroline loved snow. For all the inconvenience and mess, it brought, she liked nothing better than to stand out in the freezing air while snowflakes swirled around her.

  She raced back to her room and grabbed her coat and gloves. She managed to get her right hand inside its glove, leaving her left hand only protected by the bandaging.

  Heading back downstairs, she opened the front door and stepped out into a white winter wonderland. She checked the driveway to ensure no one was coming, then with arms held out wide, she began to slowly spin.

  “She is doing it,” muttered James.

 
Francis looked over to where his cousin was pointing and smiled. For as long as anyone in the family could remember, every Christmas at Strathmore Castle, Caroline would stand outside in the snow and slowly spin. For hours she would silently worship the sky as it poured white heaven over her.

  “What is she doing?” asked Julian, coming up the stairs.

  “Caroline’s snow dance. Few people outside the family have ever seen it. You should feel privileged,” replied James.

  “She loves the winter. Some unkind people have given her the name of the Ice Queen, but they don’t realize just how close to the truth it is,” added Francis.

  At that moment, Caroline stopped spinning. She tilted her head back and opened her mouth. In the golden glow from the torches lighting the drive, Julian caught the incredible sight of a young woman in rapture. Snow fell on her face and at times into her open mouth, all the while Caroline stood with her eyes closed and arms held out.

  “I have never seen anything like it in my entire life,” murmured Julian, thoroughly entranced.

  As he stepped away, he caught sight of a movement in the shadows near Caroline. Midas was keeping a close guard on their guest.

  Caroline slipped off her snow-soaked coat and single glove and handed them to a footman.

  He pointed in the direction of the downstairs sitting room. “Lord Newhall said to tell you that he and the other gentlemen are waiting for you.”

  “Don’t tell me it has stopped snowing,” teased James as she entered the room.

  She laughed, full of the joy of winter. “No, but it was beginning to seep through my coat, and Midas made his protests known. Besides, I heard there would be hot food and you know me after I have been outside in the snow. I need pies.”

  Julian stepped forward and bowed low. The blush that unexpectedly raced to her cheeks brought some sense of feeling back to them.

  “Then you shall have pies, as many as you can eat. I understand it is part of the tradition that when one has finished worshipping the snow god, one indulges in pies,” he said.